Guillermo del Toro’s 2017 film has won an array of accolades across the globe, ranging from Best Film Music at the BAFTAs and Best Picture at the Oscars, to Best Director and Best Picture at the Academy Awards. As the director himself has stated, what makes his film so special is its “embrace of otherness” in a modern world tainted by “fear and hatred”. Revealing the beauty of eccentricity and the humanity of self-sacrifice, The Shape of Water is a must-watch and will remain one for many years to come.
Set in the United States during the Cold War, the story follows a mute young woman Elisa who works in a government laboratory and appears confined to its fringes, relying on her co-worker Zelda to translate her sign-language into English. However, from the moment that Elisa befriends the “Asset” brought to the government facility for experimentation, she plunges into the depths of a companionship much more immersive than any she had experienced in the human world before. A humanoid amphibian, the Asset (hereinafter creature) is able to respond non-verbally to Elisa, whether to show admiration of her dancing or appreciation for her gifts of boiled eggs. Over time, the two outsiders develop a romantic bond of mutual admiration and fascination, summarised by Elisa’s touching words to her roommate: “When he looks at me…He does not know what I lack, or how I am incomplete. He sees me for what I am…”. It is clear that Elisa and the creature appreciate and understand each other for who they are, which according to Del Toro is the sign of true love: “I don’t think love is about transformation and changing the person, but understanding the person”.
Depicting a romance that transcends the human boundary, the magical realism so inherent to The Shape of Water evokes inevitable parallels with del Toro’s 2006 production, Pan’s Labyrinth. In the 2017 film, however, we are at the height of the Space Race in the States rather than the Civil War in Spain, and the protagonist is not a young girl transitioning into adulthood but rather a mature woman fully aware of her autonomy – and her sexuality. Clever, deliberate unconventionality pervades del Toro’s portrayal of Elisa’s sexuality, ranging from scenes of routine bath-time masturbation to the director’s typical gendered motifs (such as eggs as a symbol of fertility and new life). For those who have seen Pan’s Labyrinth, there are motifs and tropes mirrored in The Shape of Water which, to a certain extent, bring about its predictability. Recalling the fascist Captain Vidal and the anti-Francoist Doctor Ferreiro, we watch laboratory Doctor Hoffstetler strive to save the creature from the wrath of the malevolent government agent Strickland. As the film progresses, Elisa, the “princess without voice”, hatches a plan to free the creature and take him to the safety of her home.
Fairytale tropes aside, The Shape of Water certainly deserves its flood of awards. Reviewers such as Geoffrey Macnab who compare the film to Beauty and the Beast and the creature to an unexpected Prince Charming, ultimately reduce the film’s multifaceted message to that of a fantastical romance. The Shape of Water is much more than that. Admittedly, the scene in which Elisa seduces the creature by filling the bathroom to the ceiling with water is stunning to watch. Yet there are also nauseating moments of barbarity, such as Strickland’s frenzied self-mutilation as he struggles to recapture the escaped creature. Moments of humour are coupled with incidences of tragedy – from Elisa’s sign-language “Fuck you!” directed at Strickland, to subplots of espionage, betrayal and even death…
Ultimately, The Shape of Water is an innately human film, not despite but due to its magical realism. Del Toro works to uncover the good and the evil inside us, and (most importantly in this case) to celebrate the timeless, boundary-defying sensation that is love. Elisa and the creature are two fishes out of water, who defy society and come together in an act of true love and self-sacrifice. The theme of rebellion pervades throughout The Shape of Water and many other films by del Toro, who believes that “You only find yourself when you disobey. Disobedience is the beginning of responsibility, I think”. And disobeying is exactly what the director does himself; he eschews Hollywood and cinematic conventions in favour of a unique, heart-warming tale about the need for humanity in a world submerged in fear – fear of the Other, fear of being different.