Antonio Salieri: The Patron Saint of Mediocrity.

Original Poster

Amadeus (1984)

Directed by Milos Forman
Written by Paul Shaffer
Cinematography by Miroslav Ondricek
Edited by Nena Danevic and Michael Chandler
Music conducted and supervised by Neville Marriner
Starring F. Murray Abraham, Tom Hulce and Elizabeth Berridge


Originally released September 19th, 1984.


     I remember being unenthused when my dad first pitched Amadeus to me as an option for an evening movie. I was around 8 or 9, so the prospect of sitting watching a bunch dudes in powdered wigs toss their arms around passionately in front of other dudes in powdered wigs for 3 hours was not particularly appealing. But I abandoned my reservations and my parents and the cats and I gathered around the soft glow of the flat screen to embark on this cinematic expedition. I of course had heard plenty of Mozart in my life. His work is some of most enduring and pervasive in the history of musical composition. But this film, from it's very first frame, invites the viewer to rethink what they originally assumed about the man and the music. It's a grand, sprawling story of love, betrayal, redemption and how to play a piano upside down at a party. It's important to mention that most of the story is fictional. And it's difficult to say with certainty what Mozart and his contemporaries were really like, but the key elements of truth are there. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was an artistic visionary who partied mighty hardy and had not a single fuck to give about what the world thought of him. Hell yeah. This film shows us that Mozart, and does it in an exceptional way.

uoyevolitub! That's Elizabeth Berridge lookin' like a snack.

     The film opens with an old man proclaiming his guilt of the murder of W.A.M. as he attempts to commit suicide. Thirty years after Mozart's death, this character is institutionalized in the wake of this attempt and claim. When visited by a priest in the asylum, we learn that the old man is Antonio Salieri, a prominent classical composer who spent a portion of his career as the official court composer for the Emperor of Austria Joseph II (who reigned from 1764-1790). This period overlapped with Mozart's move to Vienna, where the Emperor met him and commissioned several works from him. When the visiting priest asks Salieri for his confession, Salieri begins to tell him of his experience with Mozart and the film primarily depicts flashbacks spurred by narration from this point on. The story examines Mozart's life and work through the lens of a bitter, envious, obsessive and none the less adoring contemporary composer in the form of Salieri. While many details are historically accurate, as I said before, a lot of the story is fictionalized. So if you're setting out to watch this for the first time, keep that in mind.

Tom Hulce as Mozart, making a face that
 sums up this character pretty perfectly.

      I'm a really, really big fan of Mozart (I'm listening to Symphony No. 18 right now!), and while I know it isn't true, I like to believe that he was as hot (and American) as Tom Hulce is playing him. The W.A.M. depicted in this film is irreverent, childish, impossibly outgoing, immature, irresponsible and self-absorbed. He's also one sexy fucking bad boy, baby! Maybe it's Hulce's boyish charm, maybe it's the 80's inspired powdered wigs, maybe it's the image of a man in tights. I don't know. Maybe it's a combination. It's a mystery left for the universe. What I do know is that Hulce delivers one hell of a performance. The Oscar nomination for best actor was well deserved. He strikes just the right tone throughout the film. He fully embraces the outrageous nature of the character publicly, but doesn't deny him the opportunity to be vulnerable in private. He also slays the shift in Mozart's character after the death of his father. For the fist time we see him conducting a performance (specifically Don Giovanni) showing the physical and emotional effort it takes. In most previous performance scenes, he looks like a dog with two very talented tails. We are also treated to the delightful and similarly complex performance that F. Murray Abraham delivers as Antonio Salieri. In a rare occurrence, both Hulce and Abraham were nominated for an Oscar in the same category for the same film. And Abraham won. For good reason. He spends about a third of the film in makeup (which is also exceptional) portraying Salieri as an old man. Seeing his performance jump back and forth through a 30 year period emphasizes his range and dexterity. While the two depictions of the character have the same key features, the perspective of that old Salieri brings to the story he's sharing is beautifully portrayed. It's that gained perspective that makes makes his young self easier to empathize with. Old Salieri is funny, honest and introspective. Young Salieri is a prick, but one we can understand. And that complexity of character would not be possible without an outstanding performance from Abraham. Also a quick shout out to Elizabeth Berridge, who plays Mozart's wife Constanze. As the most consistently tread on victim in this story (one of the only female characters is a victim?!?!?! HowWwwW?), she manages to still appear resilient and self-possessed. Oh fuck! A very young Cynthia Nixon (Miranda on Sex and the City) is also excellent in a bit part. Everyone in this is outstanding and I don't have time to talk about all of them, ok?! Just watch the damn movie.


   

Milos Forman (right) showing Tom Hulce (left) how to do The Hustle.

     There is so much technical merit in this film that I could write a hundred reviews and not cover it all, so I'll just choose one of the more obvious, and frankly, impressive film making devices on display here. This movie absolutely crushes the transition. It redefines both narration and flashback as story telling tropes by depicting both in such a beautifully functional way. It is a perfect marriage between editor and screenwriter. I usually find myself in the camp that believes narration is to screenwriting what the Segway is to walking. It's often just lazy; an opportunity for exposition without having to rely on the audience to do any work at all. But used correctly, it can be an artful addition to storytelling. For instance, it offers so many 'edit answers the question' moments to an editor. A narrator makes a vague or misleading statement and the audience, who've been trained by a lifetime of movie watching, asks a question of the film that can be answered visually of audibly in the edit. This is especially effective if you have two connected yet separate narratives going at the same time. Now you've involved the viewer in the process and given them the satisfaction of finding answers. There are so many examples of this in Amadeus. Every narrative jump between Salieri's story and the flashbacks to what he's discussing are seamless, smart and elegant. In some cases, they're funny. In others, they're jarring. There's one transition where the sound of crumpling paper at the end of one scene carries over into a shot of a heard of deer being startled and dashing off, bringing us so gracefully into the next scene. They also play beautifully with the idea of diegetic and non diegetic sound. Generally, this refers to music or sound that originates from the physical world the film is taking place in (that being diegetic) or music or sound that is happening outside that world of the benefit of the viewer (non diegetic). In Amadeus, there are scenes where you think music is non diegetic, but it's revealed that the music we've been hearing is happening in a characters head, so is in fact diegetic. There's a scene where Mozart is composing late at night and we're hearing what he's writing. We're meant to assume that's happening for our benefit alone, but when Constanze interrupts him and he looks up from the page, the music stops. The music in this scene is used to illustrate just how ingenious Mozart is. The music simply springs from his mind fully formed. And what a subtle and smart way to tell the audience this without having to say it. This film truly uses every inch of cinema it could get it's hands on. 

F. Murray Abraham (right) and Christine Ebersole (left).

As my 8 or 9 year old self first amused upon hearing Amadeus described, it doesn't sound like it would be all that compelling. How do make a movie about a big nerd who writes classical music for a living seem compelling (just so you can see how the film makers wanted to persuade you, here is the original trailer)? It may seem like a tall order, but here is a thing I try to remember about film when a plot or topic is being described to me. Film is ultimately, above everything else, storytelling. And a good storyteller can make anything compelling. Anything. That's the task. And boy does this film deliver on that task. It is as riveting as any action movie and as heartbreaking as any romance. And the reasons for this go beyond just good storytelling. There is a natural kinship between film and music generally, but even more so between film and classical music. For film to be effective as North American audiences (and increasingly, global ones too) have come it expect, it must operate in a ridged structure. There's plenty of variations on that structure, and many films that deviate from it become widely known and popular. But for the most part, in order to be widely understood and subsequently successful, a movie needs to follow a fairly strict set of structural guidelines. The necessity of following a structure is even more true for traditional classical music. For every format that a piece is written in, there are hundreds of rules that differ from all other formats. And of course sometimes those rules are broken, but then it becomes something else. And that's how traditional European music began to evolve. But for our purposes, we're talking about someone who never broke the rules. Mozart took existing structures and improved upon them by working magically within them. He bent the rules, but never broke them. And I think that's what makes a really great film maker. Building upon a form your audience is already familiar with and changing how they think about that form is a greater and more difficult to achieve triumph than just breaking the mold entirely and doing whatever the fuck you want. In the end, it makes sense that this film is compelling. The structure it's depicting mirrors the structure it's depicted in.

This looks cool for sure, but it's a
damn inconvenient way to write...

     Amadeus is an exceptionally written serious, fun and meaningful film experience that is amazing to look at. The costumes and set design are perfect. The performances are career defining. And the music is nothing short of magic (obviously). For a story about a bunch of old, white, probably racist, definitely smelly rich dudes, I can not sing it's praises thoroughly enough. If I was to criticize it at all, it's maybe a little too long. But I think any movie that I can't watch without having to make several trips to the bathroom during is too long, so that's not saying much. This is truly one for the god damn books, baby.

Ok, just one more pic:

Look at that cute baby! He's so good at his job!

***


     Oh my god. I'm so sorry this was so late everyone. Christ. I'm not exaggerating when I say I could write a hundred reviews and never say all I want to about this fucking masterpiece. I  honestly didn't realize I'd have so much to agonize over. I chose this one this week because of the directors passing last week. Milos Forman was 89 and had some astounding credits to his name. This was just my favorite of the bunch. If you're going to go watch it for the first time now, or re-watch it for the first time in a long time, keep an eye of Salieri's thing for food and how consistently that's woven into the narrative. It's amazing. Fuck. What a good fucking movie. Please watch it!

That's all for now folks. Until next week. Check out Capella Istropolitana's album 'The Very Best of Mozart'. You won't regret it. Auf Wiedersehen!

Emma wastes $25: The Story Of A Pretty Alright Movie.

Original Poster

A Quiet Place (2018)

Directed by John Krasinski
Produced by Micheal Bay, Brad Fuller and
Andrew Form
Cinematography by Charlotte Bruus Christensen
Edited by Christopher Tellefsen
Starring Emily Blunt, John Krasinski, Millicent Simmonds and Noah Jupe



Originally released April 6th, 2018.



     Let me paint you a picture. It's a dark, chilly April day. The clouds hang low in the sky, heavy with impending rain. I roll out of bed determined to make it to the 12 pm screening of a movie I've heard only good things about. People are saying that it will redefine horror as a genre. As a frickin' GENRE. That's a lofty claim that I am skeptical of, but I'm very much looking forward to seeing for myself! I'm speeding down to the Cineplex at Young and Dundas as fast as my stinky little feet can carry me. As I motor onto Dundas, only a couple of blocks away from my destination, I am simultaneously confronted with a bird pooping on me and nearly running right in to a man shouting incoherently into the street wearing a jacket that can only be described as "crunchy". When I arrive at the theater, I discover that they're only showing the movie I'm there for in VIP. It's $25 a ticket. I sigh and figure, based on the reviews I've heard, it'll be worth it. Spoiler: it is not. It's Friday, April 13th, 2018.


**I'd like to take a quick moment here and warn you that there will be spoilers ahead. So if you've got $25 you were going to light on fire after reading this review, I suggest that you do neither of those things and instead head on down to your local Cineplex and give that cash to them. It'll have virtually the same result.**
 

Why is it that when the world goes to shit,
all the stop lights fall down? Is it a feature of their design?

     So it's the year 2020, and a plague of sightless aliens who hunt using exceptional hearing have ravaged the earth, killing almost everyone. The Abbott family - Lee and Evelyn Abbot and their children Regan, Marcus and Beau - live on a hobby farm in what looks like Maine? Vermont? I don't know. Anyway, their oldest child Regan is deaf, so the family is all accustomed to using ASL (American sign language). How lucky is that? They've become very accustomed to living in silence as to avoid detection from the creatures that lurk in the surrounding woods. Early on, we see their youngest child Beau killed by one of said creatures in a pretty intense scene, but the real horror gets going two years later. Evelyn is pregnant, and for reasons I can not fathom, everyone seems pretty pumped about it! When Evelyn goes into early labor while alone at the farm, all hell breaks loose. The features of  this set up make for some genuinely very scary moments in an otherwise unremarkable film.


   

Oh honey, I'm so glad you looted Pottery Barn
before everyone else got to it!

     If you watch this L.L. Bean commercial from this past holiday season without the sound on, you've pretty much watched the trailer for this movie. Obviously I'm exaggerating, but less than you may think. A Quiet Place looks like if the December 1991 issue of Country Living Magazine and a recent issue of Fangoria had a pretty unsettling, very quiet baby. I love it. I think it's beautiful. All these really attractive, clear-skinned, thin white people running around (or walking barefoot, slowly on trails of sawdust (?) if you want to be specific) in lovely wool knit sweaters and overalls. That's my shit. At one point, they eat a meal of fish cooked in the floor (for silence's sake I guess) that looks like fucking Antoni and Bobby from Queer Eye teamed up to make it. Their house, while definitely altered for the purpose of being less noisy (painted squares on the floor for where to walk, doors tethered open to prevent slamming, etc.) is very pretty. Lot's of wild flowers and lace curtains and nice quilts and shit. It's very Instagramable. It's also very much my vibe. But it seems a little unrealistic for a family that is living through the apocalypse to have such a keen sense of design. I know that the only thing they have to alter about their life is to be quiet, and that maybe leaves them with lots of time on their hands, but I found the picturesque beauty of their living spaces really distracting. Also John Krasinski's beard can fucking get it. Not the man, just the beard (like, someone have that facial hair give me a call). I feel like Krasinski was a quintessentially tall skinny nerd for the first two thirds of his life and he's just discovered that he's Kilmered (the effect of thickening, but not necessarily gaining weight as one ages. It often has a negative effect, but not in this case) and is all hot and "manly" now, so there's a lot of that in this movie. Which brings us to our next topic...

But DaaaAaAd, I don't wanna be in an L.L. Bean campaign!

     This film seemed oddly heteronormative. Like it seemed to go out of it's way to reinforce gendered stereotypes. For instance, as much as I loved (looooved) Emily Blunt's performance, it was a little disappointing that the horror her character experiences in the film was so deeply rooted in the only thing the patriarchy thinks women are good for: making babies. Would it be horrifying to have to give birth silently while a toothy alien with big ear holes stalks you through your house? Yeah totally. And giving birth is an experience a large portion of the population has had, so it's an effective way to connect the horror in your film to the audience. But based on the rigid stereotypes on display throughout the rest of the movie, the concept of the only adult woman in this film experiencing the bulk of her horror through childbirth feels pretty unimaginative. Also holy shit to her getting pregnant in the first place! I mean come the fuck on. No way. Just an objectively bad idea to bring a child into this specific world. Wrap it up, Lee! Jesus. Other examples of the oddly 1950's values in this film are the depiction of the patriarch and matriarch's respective daily tasks. Lee does things like chop wood, hammer fence posts, and take his son fishing, while Evelyn literally cooks and cleans and does laundry (and is pregnant). The scene where their daughter Regan expresses a desire to go on a fishing trip with Dad and is dismissed right away is both sexist and ableist. A case could be made for this just being the result of a father's concern for his child while living in an impossibly stressful environment, but as with everything in film, this was a deliberate choice. These people aren't real. They're conceived of by flawed human beings who clearly couldn't help but impose their own outdated feelings about gender politics on their characters.

There's a lot of this. The finger thing. Like, we get it. You've got to be quiet.
 Also that's Emily Blunt on the left and Millicent Simmonds on the right.

     For all it's glaring flaws, this film got casting spot on. Everyone in it was excellent, but there were two performances that really stood out. At one point, it registered with me that watching Emily Blunt's performance was making me literally nauseous. Not because it was bad, but because it was that good. I was feeling some semblance of what her character must have been feeling. Rarely is an actor able to pull an audience in and produce such a strong physical sensation. This character's physical pain and mental fear was palpable. And Blunt was 100% committed. She was all in. It was that commitment that made this performance one for the books. If you go to see this for no other reason than Emily Blunt, it'll be well worth your while. Also, big shout out to new comer Millicent Simmonds. What an exceptional start for a kid with only two acting credits to her name. Her performance in A Quiet Place was mature and nuanced. I'm really looking forward to seeing more from her in the future. Also really glad they cast an actual deaf person for the role of a deaf person in the film. What a novel idea (that's sarcasm, just in case that doesn't read). As much as women get the short end of the stick for the majority of this film naritively, the two and only performances by women are what make it watchable.


     So yeah. Overall, I wasn't super impressed with this movie. I liked it alright, and some of the scares really got me, but by the time the credits rolled I was left with a strange and oddly familiar bad taste in my mouth. As I sat and watched the names of the people involved flash up on the screen and the majority of the people in theater file out, I realized where this taste had come from. "Producer Micheal Bay". Ooooohhhhhhh. It was Bayhem. That weird turn the movie takes for the last quarter and that ill fitting ending was Bayhem. If you're not familiar with Bayhem, it's the insidious, chaotic and almost spiritual effect that Micheal Bay has on everything he touches. Here's a video by Tony Zhou that explains the phenomenon way better then I can. Anyway, I found A Quiet Place thoroughly O.K. and I wish I hadn't spent as much on it as I did, but here we are. I hope that pigeon that pooped on me is doing well!     



***


     Yikers. I'm sorry if ya'll found this one disappointing. I know lots of people who are really pumped to see this. Heck, I was one of those people before I saw it. And if you saw it and enjoyed it, well I don't blame you. I saw every penny of the $17 million they spent on it up on the screen, and it does achieve some pretty effective and moving moments. But gosh darn. When you've seen one movie about a pretty white family fighting aliens, you've seen em' all. Am I right?

Peace out. See you next week! Be nice to pigeons :)

Yes, it's that Leonard Nimoy.

Original Poster

Three Men and a Baby (1987)

Directed by Leonard Nimoy
Written by Jim Cruickshank and James Orr
Based on the French film Trois Hommes et un Couffin (1985)
Music by Marvin Hamlisch
Production Design by Peter S. Larkin
Starring Tom Selleck, Ted Danson, Steve Guttenberg and Nancy Travis


Originally released on November 25th, 1987.
   

     Three things I didn't know about myself before watching TMAAB; Tom Selleck reading the highlights of a boxing match to a baby is my kink; Ted Danson singing 'My Girl' to a baby in the shower is my kink; Steve Guttenberg pretending to paint a baby is my kink. Having made these realizations, I come to you now a more enlightened, more complete version of myself. And I'm ready to talk about what may be of the greatest films of our time. Of course I'm exaggerating, but then again, am I? There are lots of things wrong with this movie, but there is also so much that's right with it. Its charm and surprising restraint is as unexpected as it is refreshing. And this unforeseen merit didn't go unnoticed when it was originally released. This movie made more money than any other film released in 1987. More than Robocop. More than Dirty Dancing. More than Harry and the Hendersons, for Christ's sake! And it wasn't just the cast of not quite A-list but not quite B-list actors ranging from stunningly handsome to Guttenberg that drew crowds. There was also competent, functional film making, with a layer of kind, genuine sincerity. It's this layer that leaves one ready to not only rethink their ideas of how men relate to parenthood, but also how great Tom Selleck looks in a tank top.


   

Who wears sunglasses in a public pool?

     The plot is very simple, and also lifted from a french film made only two years prior (haven't watched it yet; will keep you posted). Three handsome, successful, and based on their lifestyles, rich best pals live together in an absolutely beautiful penthouse apartment in New York (on the fucking park, no less). Peter (Tom Selleck) is a rugged, no nonsense Architect. Jack (Ted Danson) is a flighty, outgoing actor. Micheal (Steve Guttengerg) is a goofy, fun-loving cartoonist. They all sleep with a great many women (virtually none of whom are deemed important enough by the film to have lines or more than 2 seconds of screen time). One day a baby shows up on their doorstep with a note. A woman Jack slept with roughly a year ago in England says the baby is his and that she can't care for her. Peter and Micheal are stuck dealing with her while Jack is in Turkey working on a movie. "Cool Boys" don't know what to do with a baby!! How will they cope?! The baby almost immediately starts audibly pooping, setting the tone for most of the gags throughout the rest of the movie. Hilarity ensues. Obviously.


   

Is it Mary's stinky diaper that smells or is it The Gutte's performance?

     So let's talk about Steve Guttenberg, an actor best known for wearing shorts in Cocoon (1985). I love him, and for the sake of brevity and also just because I want to, we will refer to him from here on out as "The Gutte". Our buddy Gutte never really made it. After some success in the Police Academy franchise, he fumbled his way through the aforementioned Cocoon alongside Don Ameche, Hume Cronyn and the moustache that walks like a man, Wilford Brimley. Then, for reasons unknown to science or nature, he was cast as "the goofy one" in TMAAB. Sure, his character is cute, and he's got a cool job, but he doesn't have the same...je ne sais quoi as Magnum and Malone. He's a little too broad at times, a little too subtle at others, and frankly, occasionally a little racist, with the use of an unfortunate accent (?) with a puppet named "Mr. Cool". That being said, the character is essentially there to make the other two look better, and he very competently pulls that off. But do they really need help? I mean, come on. Look at these fucking guys. Don't get me wrong, I like The Gutte. A lot. He's just my cup of lukewarm tea. But we all know what he's here for. At this point in his career, he was essentially just gearing up to be the 'and' credit in a low budget movie about smart puppies (if you're interested, this also has Billy Zane in it).

Do you think if we look at her like she's got a
giant zit on her face she'll stop crying?

     On a more serious note, the most surprising feature of this movie is it's respect for non traditional masculinity. Now, the masculinity on display is non traditional in context, and only in some ways. It's 1987, so lower your expectations. While Peter, Jack and Micheal all individually live pretty heavily steeped in a toxic idea of manhood, when it comes to stepping up and caring for a baby girl, they take it seriously and so does the film. The three main characters are "cool", successful, independent dudes who initially speak of women pretty negatively. For the first third of the movie, women are essentially commodities that don't even drive the story. They pass in and out of these bachelors bedrooms, easing the audience into accepting their familiar patterns. What isn't familiar is that, while there are plenty of jokes about Peter, Jack and Micheal's inexperience with babies, the jokes are never at the expense of their masculinity. It is never suggested that they are lesser or weak men because they grow to love an infant. A lesser story would make the sensitivity and vulnerability they show a point of humour. Like it's funny to see men show genuine affection for a baby the way a woman might (in traditional, rigid gender roles that do not acknowledge that not all women feel maternal). It's misogynistic, homophobic, low hanging fruit that the film never goes for.

Here's a really cool article that outlines the design
of the apartment with plenty of pictures!

   
     I want to take a second and nod hard at the production designer on TMAAB. He did a beautiful job that I literally dream about. Now, it is as unlikely as me ever getting a date with 1987 Ted Danson that these three bros live in the apartment that they do, but hey that's the magic of cinema. Our buddy Gutte spends the opening expository montage painting the front foyer of a penthouse on the park, with three large bedrooms, each decorated to reflect the occupants character. A cozy living room, huge windows on one side, a hall of glass bricks leading to the kitchen on the other. I'm a little fuzzy on the exact layout of the place, but there's a pool table and jukebox that appear to be just off the kitchen, which is of course fully windows and plants and beautiful 80's minimalist design. Their kitchen is in a god damn green house surrounded by pigeons (and is miraculously not covered in bird shit). The design isn't just excellent in their apartment. Peter, Jack and Micheal also all look perfect. They're always a cohesive unit, with their own uniqueness wound in. Their clothes are current and stylish, relaxed and uncomplicated. Their hairdos look like they take a little time spent with a hairdryer to achieve, but not too much time, ya know? Easy, breezy, beautiful...white guys. The look of TMAAB is consistent, modern and non-threatening, striking just the right tone to fit with the rest of the movie.


   

What the hell is this thing?

     There's a theme I will touch on a lot in this blog that I'd like to close with here. Just because you like it doesn't mean it's good, and just because it's good doesn't mean you'll like it. There is subjectivity and objectivity in art, and that is especially true for film. And something I try to keep in mind when I'm looking critically at a movie. So do I love this movie? Yes. Do I think it's a good film? God no. In the end, what Three Men and a Baby leaves us with is a standard Hollywood star vehicle, made with confidence and written well. It's Peter, Jack and Micheal's earnest and sweet acceptance of a baby that they ostensibly have no responsibility to that sets it apart. If you're not compelled to watch this thing based on what I've given you here, I don't blame you. But I do ask that you do yourself a favour and watch one of it's most delightful scenes, which I will link to here.

***

     Now, I know what you're thinking. I went through that whole review and didn't refer to the name of the director. Well, if you were wondering, yes. It's that Leonard Nimoy. It's not his first or only directorial credit, but fuck if it isn't one of the weirder ones his name is attached to. Anyway. Live long and prosper! See you losers next week.


*DISCLAIMER: I don't own the rights to any of the images used in this article. I've provided my sources for them throughout, but if there are any copyright conflicts please let me know!

A sexy, sexy fish man.

Alternate Release Poster

The Shape of Water (2017)

Directed by Guillermo del Toro
Written by Guillermo del Toro and Vanessa Taylor
Edited by Sidney Wolinski
Music by Alexander Desplat
Cinematography by Dan Laustsen
Starring Sally Hawkins, Octavia Spencer, Doug Jones,
Richard Jenkins, Micheal Shannon, Micheal Stuhlbarg


Originally released August 31st, 2017.


      Within the first 5 minutes, this film manages to achieve a rare and elusive feat in American cinema; a woman claims and normalizes her own sexuality, and it sets the tone for the rest of the story. It's just a quick shot. An egg timer in the foreground, showing the main character, Elisa Esposito, out of focus in the background. She's masturbating in her bathtub. It's not sensational. It's not darkly lit. It's not particularly sexy. It's staged as a normal part of Elisa's morning routine. And with that quick shot, they declare that this character's sexuality is not present in the narrative to serve the men in the film, nor the men in the audience. They have sexualized Elisa in service to herself (pun intended?). I can't remember ever seeing a movie that presented a woman as a sexual being without that sexuality being a plot point; a device to further the narrative. Needless to say, I was impressed with this thing right off the bat.

   

Left to right: Elisa (Sally Hawkins)
and Zelda (Octavia Spencer)

     The story follows Elisa Esposito, a night shift cleaning woman at a government testing facility. She was born mute and communicates through sign language. Her demeanour subsequently comes off as quiet and meek. Weather or not that's really the case, it's how the world has chosen to interpret her silence. It's only when she meets a new addition to the lab, a sort of human/fish hybrid, that she seems to find someone who is interpreted by the world in a similar way. As her lack of speech is seen as a hindrance, a quality that most find problematic, so is his (perhaps in addition to one or two other things). As her relationship with the creature grows, so does a fight to keep him alive and out of reach from a vengeful ex-military investigator who's in charge of it's case. Ultimately, it's the story of a woman finding love, friendship and belonging without ever compromising who she is.

 

 Yikes what a gorgeous piece of fan art...

     The Shape of Water uses color expertly and exhaustively. The film conceives a lush, dynamic and consistently engaging palette. This achievement is all the more impressive when one considers that most of it is green. Everything is green. I don't even think I'm exaggerating. Virtually all the things are green. That being said, when a shot or scene is decidedly not green, and there are a couple, it is representative of a shift in tone or reflective of a character's specific experience. A scene that shows us a little more of Micheal Shannon's character is a wash of oranges and yellows. As the principle antagonist, it's important to understand his motivation. Along with the performances, the colour in the scene depicting his bright, cheery, loving and picture-perfect home life helps us to understand that what he truly yearns for. It is not picture perfection or even the love of a loyal family, but rather someone he can control, dominate and silence, making Elisa a particularly appealing target. The use of strong and decisive colour is one of the many things that make this film stand out.

   

Left to right: Guillermo del Toro, Sally Hawkins,
and Richard Jenkins on set

     Lucky for us, Richard Jenkins is in this film. We have the pleasure of watching him deliver a subtle and nuanced performance in his portrayal of Elisa's closest friend and neighbour, Giles. Giles works as an advertising illustrator and makes weekly trips to the pie shop across the street to flirt with a young waiter there. Watching him journey through the later part of his life as a gay man living in the early part of the 20th century is both melancholic and uplifting. We see him show both regret for what he's missed by not living as a truer version of himself sooner and an appreciation for what he's learned while living holed up in the closet. It's this gained perspective that enables him to accept Elisa, first for who she is and later for who she loves. In a particularly poignant scene, he apologizes to Elisa for not immediately agreeing to help her free her aquatic companion when it becomes clear that his life is in danger. As he tearfully explains that Elisa is the only real friend he has, and to deny her help when she is need would be a grave error, Jenkins beautifully and deservedly secures his Oscar nomination.

   
     I quite like a lot of del Toro's previous films. In many of them, however, I often get the impression that he has struggled to instil his passion for a wildly specific vision in the rest of the cast and crew. He has occasionally found the right group of collaborators in the past. People who get it and are able to pull off something that is totally unique and special and also a good film. Pan's Labyrinth (2006), for instance, is as quintessentially del Toro as it gets, but without sacrificing film making in the name of artistic vision. But this not always being the case, as with Crimson Peak (2016), which starts strong but ultimately buckles under it's own weight by the end, results in a often incongruent body of work. There is a common thread running throughout, however. That thread being a love of and compassion for the outcasts, the freaks, the monsters of our world. And it is in The Shape of Water that Guillermo's magical, wondrous style meets a group of colleagues worthy of telling the story. It is a fully realized and beautifully portrayed piece of film making and story telling, and it's well deserving of it's many accolades.


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     Thanks for reading, gang. I had a mighty good time watching and reviewing this film. Who'd have ever predicted that 90 years in, the Oscars would give the Best Picture award to a movie that allows a woman to own and normalize her sexuality and then express that sexuality with a sexy, sexy fish man?! What a time to be alive.

This is Emma signing off. Until next time, folks! Keep watching movies, keep petting dogs, keep doing you.


*DISCLAIMER: I don't own the rights to any of the images used in this article. I've provided my sources for them throughout, but if there are any copyright conflicts please let me know!