Every year, there’s at least one critically acclaimed film that I find to be, at best, decent.
These are the worst kinds of films to review. The Shape of Water is such a film.
It’s one thing to hate a film the majority love, as it brings a passion to my writing as I fiercely defend and explain my opinion, but to like a film the majority love is where I often get stumped in frustration. If one viewed my opinion through a Rotten Tomatoes’ fresh/rotten score, or a Siskel & Ebert thumbs up/down system, I am technically agreeing with the majority—giving The Shape of Water a thumbs up/fresh rating—and yet I have a bunch of issues with the film. It can be obnoxiously whimsical in music, romance and comedy and frustratingly cliché in antagonists and story. The romance is fairly generic and bland despite its couple being as unusual as you can get. The characters lack depth and have very black-and-white morals. Its various themes on prejudice and chauvinism are way too heavyhanded, and for a Guillermo del Toro film, The Shape of Water’s artistic style is fairly typical and unremarkable (and I know del Toro can do better).
The performances are fine. The performances are great. There is nothing wrong with The Shape of Water’s performances. I’d argue the performances are the film’s saving grace. Michael Shannon, (who I recently devoted an entire week too), for example, plays the type of card-carrying villain I usually detest in stories, but man does Shannon make the character entertaining. One of the film’s best scenes involves Shannon’s character barging into the house of Octavia Spencer’s character and delivering an intense, wrathful speech as he literally breaks off his own fingers to get his point across. The Shape of Water is passable entertainment, but that’s as far as I’m willing to praise it. If you’re looking for a high-quality Guillermo del Toro film where a humanoid fish-man falls in love with another species, then I’d recommend Hellboy II: The Golden Army over The Shape of Water.
