Friday, January 26, 2018

Still Swimming Upstream

I am of two minds about The Shape of Water.

On the one hand it's a wonderful example of Del Toro's lovely vision of fairy tales - that they are comforting lies that cover up evil in the world, that they are a potent narcotic lulling people into complacency because they are always the princess in the story and they believe they'll win someday even as they support the system that crushes them, that they are a beautiful trap - a dream we want to reach for that sucks us down under the surface and keeps us from breaking free.

On the other hand I had some issues with the framing of Elisa in the film.

Elisa believes that she is broken because society believes that she is broken - she bonds with the Amphibian because he doesn't see that there's anything "less than" about her. She is whole to him, he is whole to her - even though the rest of the world may see them as wrong they recognize that they are fine, it's society that's wrong.

Which is why I was so bothered by the singing scene where Elisa had her voice. The ending doesn't bother me so much - the world isn't accommodating of them so they go off to live in a world where their muteness or alienness isn't a barrier. In the happiest of endings this is perfect for the social model of disability - the other world they go to accommodates their needs. However some people have, correctly, brought up that Del Toro is essentially saying "these people have no place in this world, they are monsters who have to run away, and we cannot have them here." Which is, you know, pretty shitty.

That is why I found the singing scene so jarring: Elisa is acceptable, beautiful, stunning, admired, looked upon with love and kindness from strangers - but only in a fantasy, and only when she has a voice.

Another thing that I found difficult to approach was the sexual framing of Elisa. Disabled folks are frequently infantalized and desexualized so seeing Elisa as sexual is liberating in one way; she candidly masturbates and is sexually attracted to a river god who is attracted to her - neat! Disabled people like sex too. But Strictland's fetishization of Elisa's mutness is all too real a reminder that disabled women are sexually abused in numbers that are frankly horrific. Which is especially upsetting because Del Toro's focus on Elisa's morning masturbation routine feels voyeuristic and fetishistic in the same way that Strickland acts.

And I'm not saying that was an intentional choice to make the viewer feel uncomfortable with how women are seen as sexual objects - I'm saying that seems to have been somewhat subconscious and for a movie that is concerned with commenting on male violence and xenophobia it's a disconcerting viewpoint. The camera lingers on Elisa's body and observes her orgasms in a way that is meant to feel charming, not creepy, but it comes off very poorly from my perspective.

To be clear, I didn't dislike the movie. I was underwhelmed and disappointed, but still thought that it was a beautiful film with powerful moments (in particular I will say that Elisa forcing people to listen to her was painful and raw-feeling and reaffirming); the music and set decoration and creature creation were all stunning (and I love Doug Jones *so* much). Everyone's acting was a delight. But I feel like it could have been more. I think people who are comparing The Shape of Water to Pan's Labyrinth are making a mistake, and I don't think that The Shape of Water will be remembered in ten years the way that Pan's Labyrinth is now because Pan's Labyrinth had something serious to say and said it, whereas The Shape of Water is a love letter to cinema that is sweet and personal, but ultimately not that important.

Cheers,
     - Alli