The Whale: More Than You Think
Cinema as a whole is driven by its awards season, and in particular the Oscars. It is the crowning achievement in this medium and drives the culture. Narratives play a big role in this season, and the narratives built can be permanently tied to a film, for better or worse. A popular narrative is the great performance from a not great film. Usually we see one of these a year, where an actor is represented in their respected category and are either the only or one of very few nominations for the film. While it’s not the most flattering narrative and is generally something the actor has to overcome for recognition, it is one that some films get saddled with every year. In recent years some examples are Renee Zellweger in Judy, Jennifer Hudson in Respect and Kristen Stewart in Spencer. Early in this awards season another such candidate arose in Darren Aronofsky’s The Whale.
Upon its debut at the Venice Film Festival, The Whale has been discussed mostly for the resurgence of its star, Brendan Fraser. The comeback narrative that was immediately attached to the film (another one of those Oscar narratives) is just. Not only is it great to see Fraser acting again but he is incredible in the film. He deserves all the praise for a gutting performance that is both hard to watch and impossible to turn away from. This highlights the problem with narratives because while Fraser is excellent, the film has been reduced down to him and that is not the only excellence on display.
From the top down, The Whale hits in nearly every category. Starting with director Darren Aronofsky, who hasn’t directed a film since Mother! in 2017. Not a stranger to polarization, Aronofsky’s bluntness, creativity and graphic style isn’t always effective (ie Mother!). Here it all works in concert to create a film that is deeply affecting. Emotion pushed to the front, there is a palpable tension throughout that comes from some very smart choices from Aronofsky.
Most notably, The Whale is a complete subversion of expectations. It’s presented as a film about an overweight man. While his weight is important, the film isn’t about that. It’s the package for a deeper and much more complicated exploration of grief. His weight stands out and everything he does runs counter to what we want, which is to watch him get healthier. What’s important isn’t that he’s overweight, it’s why. Careful work in the writing, directing and acting make clear the film’s intentions, and thus drive home this point beautifully. Grief is a hard thing to explain or demonstrate. In a visual medium it can be quite difficult to clearly depict it. Here, there is a visual representation of his grief. Which demonstrates clearly where our lead character is while also effectively showing why.
A second clever choice is to set the film solely inside Charlie’s (Brendan Fraser) apartment. An all in one place setting is a complicated choice to make because everything becomes harder, all the way down to the viewers experience. The choice is a bit easier for The Whale since the source material comes from a theatrical play. However, it’s still hard to bring to screen. It’s so effective here, and really the only way to tell this story, because the setting is claustrophobic.
Not leaving the confines of Charlie’s safety closes in on you. It becomes uncomfortable and raises the tension. This happens because there is nowhere to go. We can’t divert our attention at all, we have to look. We can’t distract ourselves from what this film makes us feel because there’s nothing available to do that. Ultimately, we become each supporting character in Charlie’s story. Watching this terribly sad thing happen and we just have to accept it the way he has. It’s also quite intimate. Intimacy creates a bond and that bond drives the emotion in the final act. We see Charlie and his experience. It’s devastating and tragic, and with nowhere to go we feel every bit of those emotions.
Aronofsky isn’t the only person shining outside of Brendan Fraser. Hung Chau delivers another incredible performance. One that is worthy of all her accolades. Operating as the main audience surrogate she gives us someone to relate to while Charlie moves through the film. She goes through the stages of grief for her friend and ultimately provides further insight into the depth of his grief. She loves him and is there for him in every way that he lets her, but it isn’t enough. The cinematography by Matthew Libatique is solemn and beautiful. The gray tent and intimate shots capture the mood and experience perfectly. Rob Simonsen’s score is breathtaking. It compliments the story and wonderfully creates the vibe. Nearly top to bottom, The Whale is filmmaking of the highest quality. Offering something so tough to watch in such a beautiful manner, in the way only Darren Aronofsky can.
All this is said, not to take anything away from Brendan Fraser, who is extraordinary as Charlie. Instead it presents the film in its fullest picture. A master work from a master filmmaker. Kind, gracious and honest. The Whale is not what you think. An emotional experience that touches all the feels, while staying somewhat hopeful. Which is where its true power comes from. In the midst of deep grief, hope is necessary. For The Whale to be that transparent and honest yet still maintaining its heart is remarkable. You can come to the film for Brendan Fraser, but you’ll certainly leave with so much more.
