An ode to love (and monsters).

If all the Hollywood studios out there could just come together and agree to let Guillermo del Toro direct every fantasy film ever, that would be great. Sure, he’d be exhausted, and the film industry would almost certainly go bankrupt, but it’d be worth it, trust me.

With an unparalleled imagination, del Toro’s filmography has seen him skirt around the edges of everything from horror to superheroes, yet it’s his penchant for fantasy that’s led him to become one of the most distinctive filmmakers of his generation.

Right now, no one can touch del Toro for untethered fantastical storytelling; however, it’s his smaller, more intimate moments that have elevated the director to a higher plane of existence altogether. At his best, del Toro underpins his high-fantasy concepts with harsh realities that instil a gritty, real-world bite to his fairy tale eccentricities.

After hitting it out of the park with Pan’s Labyrinth, the director’s subsequent attempts to wade into the blockbuster game have drawn mixed results and less-than-stellar box office returns; so, it’s exciting to finally see him return to the intimate world that brought him so much creative success.

Born mute and resigned to a life alone, Elisa Esposito (Sally Hawkins) works as a janitor at a top-secret government lab in Cold War-era Baltimore. Silent and isolated, Elisa’s life is thrown into a spin when a mysterious humanoid amphibian (Doug Jones) arrives at the facility. With curiosity getting the better of her, Elise strikes up a relationship with the creature, but soon finds herself at odds with the nefarious Colonel Richard Strickland (Michael Shannon), who intends to exploit the monster for his own gains. As the Amphibian Man’s fate sits in the balance, Elisa must help him escape; but with Strickland and the Soviets in hot pursuit, the journey to freedom and true love is about to hit rough waters.

Guillermo del Toro likes himself a good old monster, doesn’t he? Whether kaijus, Hellboys, vampires, or fauns; del Toro is a self-confessed monster fanatic and it’s through this fanboy passion that the director has birthed some of his finest creations. With a heart and a soul that belies his monstrous appearance, del Toro has nailed it once again with an aquatic creature that instantly recalls classics like Creature from the Black Lagoon, while injecting his own style and humanity to set The Shape of Water apart from the rest.

Like his best efforts and like any good fairy tale, what makes The Shape of Water so effective is after digging away the fantasy to reveal just how rooted it is in an all-too human world, where the harsh realities of its setting blend seamlessly with the otherworldly narrative. Like the brutal and bloody aftermath of the Spanish Civil War in Pan’s Labyrinth, The Shape of Water’s time and location are key, as it drops us face-first into the desolate heart of the Cold War; paranoia, Space Races, Soviet spies, and all.

The film’s 60s setting is no fluke and puts us smack-dab in the middle of an era in societal flux, as The Shape of Water sets its characters on a search for kinship across a decade of divide and prejudice; with the sweet, all-consuming love between the mute Elisa and a creature quite literally out of his element, becomes a strikingly poignant message of love across barriers.

Disability, sexuality, power, and race are all under the film’s microscope, as each character is forced to face their own personal demons and insecurities at a time where social taboos kept people’s emotions locked up tight. Living in a world where having a disability and being a woman are one and the same, Elisa’s isolation and search for companionship with fellow outsiders becomes even more poignant, as she must find any way possible to connect across an emotional and political minefield.

As Elisa’s friend, neighbour, and one of the few people she can truly communicate with; Giles struggles with the fears and insecurities of being a closeted gay man, while Zelda’s constant battle for respect and recognition as a black woman are there for all to see. Even the film’s otherwise loathsome antagonist, Strickland, struggles to combat the isolation brought about by his never-ending search for personal and professional recognition.

At the centre of the film’s emotional kaleidoscope, Elisa is simultaneously fragile and absolutely unbreakable as she bats back the worlds prejudices, while looking ready to shatter at any moment. It’s an incredibly delicate and nuanced role to pull off, even before you consider the character’s lack of dialogue, but Sally Hawkins ensures that Elisa’s fragile dualities are handled with both grace and power.

Harnessing the power of del Toro’s direction, as well as the energy of the incredible cast around her; Hawkins is the beating heart of the film and one of the most utterly lovable protagonists you’re ever likely to meet. For many, The Shape of Water will be their first exposure to the sunbeam that is Sally Hawkins but, for those who’ve had an eye on her career since the early Mike Leigh days, the runaway success of her latest role will come as little surprise.

As a talent whose star will undoubtedly climb from here, Hawkins’s steady ascendance has been a pleasure to behold, and her effortless encapsulation of Elisa’s pain, frustration, isolation, and heart-wrenching longing – all without a word of dialogue – shows her to be one of the finest actors this country has to offer.

To ensure she’s not left carrying the film entirely on her own back, Hawkins is surrounded by a stellar cast that add an incredible strength and depth to Elisa’s story. So, while the beautifully intimate love story at the film’s heart remains the focus, it’s in the wider cast that allow del Toro to layer The Shape of Water so effectively.

As the unscrupulous Strickland, Michael Shannon is given license to operate at maximum-Shannon; tearing through the film in a torrent of bible verses and blood, with one of his most monstrous and unhinged creations yet. With his heart and morals as rotten as his rapidly decaying fingers (!!!), Strickland is a classic power and rage-fuelled Hollywood villain, yet Shannon and del Toro seed the character with just the right amount of pity to give even his most heinous acts an element of empathy.

In Elisa’s corner for her fight against Strickland, cruelty, and bigotry; Michael Stuhlbarg is as dependably fantastic as ever, while Octavia Spencer’s bright and powerful turn as Elisa’s friend, colleague, and voice is a joy to behold. However, the film’s real ace in the hole is the perennially underappreciated Richard Jenkins. As one of the greatest actors who’s been in everything, yet you can’t remember his name, rarely does Jenkins receive the limelight or the plaudits he warrants but, while The Shape of Water sees him in support mode once again, he nevertheless shines.

Guillermo del Toro has always known how to get the most out his support casts and the depth he layers onto what could’ve been a peripheral, one note character like Giles is incredible. Aided by one of the best performances of Jenkins’s career, Giles offers strength and support to Elisa, while possessing a story and an arc all of his own.

Like those around him, Giles is a lost soul bounded by prejudice and societal road blocks, as he fumbles around for his place within a cold, unstable world. Instilled with pain, confusion, and quiet despair; it’s a wonderfully touching performance, as Giles’s sexuality and age leave him adrift, yet his love for Elisa solidifies his desire to find hope amidst the darkness.

With faultless character work at its core, del Toro constructs a wonderfully evocative and visually magnificent world around them. The Shape of Water looks incredible, feels wistfully elegant, and sounds utterly unique as Alexandre Desplat’s delightful score wraps itself around del Toro’s typically vivid imagination to create something classical, magical, and utterly endearing.

Operating harmoniously, Desplat’s score and del Toro’s visuals evoke the period setting without the nostalgia feeling force-fed; building something of its place and time, yet untethered and left free to float off in its own little fantasy balloon. Caked in 60s grime and bathed in greens and yellows, the cinematography and set designs tread the line between otherworldly fairy tale and grubby Cold War bleakness with grace, as the era’s desolate atmosphere battles constantly with love and hope.

Wading through the film’s grime and into Elisa’s heart (as well as ours), the Amphibian Man represents more flawless creature-work from del Toro; harking back to many of the director’s classic creations. As the best actor you’ve never seen, Doug Jones once again steps inside the rubbery skin of a del Toro monster for a performance of splendour and silent elegance that stands up as one of his defining roles.

Although the temptation will always be there to overengineer this kind of outlandish creature, del Toro thankfully keeps the design low-key; a muted approach that stays strong through the entire film. It always feels like del Toro is inches away from overindulging his unending imagination at any given moment and, while it’s be fascinating to see how that’d turn out, The Shape of Water works precisely because of its modesty.

Unfussy and willing to allow its characters ample room to shine, the narrative sticks to its guns admirably, telling a simple tale but telling it right. With echoes of Creature from the Black Lagoon, King Kong, and even Splash; The Shape of Water borrows many classic creature feature plot beats, yet the writing, acting, and character work ensure that the story never once feels derivative.

As one of life’s natural outsiders, The Shape of Water is the perfect embodiment of Guillermo del Toro as a filmmaker; full of warmth and weirdness in the most wonderful way possible. Absolutely uncompromising in his vision, this is del Toro’s love letter to every dreamer, interloper, and outcast out there who may have lost hope but not the desire to be exactly who they want to be, regardless.

Led by a Sally Hawkins performance that should finally catapult her into the big time and bolstered by an ensemble as warm and wonderful as the film itself; The Shape of Water is a touching, all-encompassing love story of connection across seemingly insurmountable divide. Equal parts Splash and Creature from the Black Lagoon; the film looks, sounds, and feels like the most classic of fairy tales, yet Guillermo del Toro gives it an edge, a period stylisation, and a real-world darkness that elevate it into another realm entirely. After recent big-budget wobbles, The Shape of Water sees del Toro back to his best and back to the warmth and imagination that won him the hearts of so many geeks, freaks, and outsiders just like him the world over.