When it was announced that Darren Aronofsky would direct an adaptation of Samuel D. Hunter's play, “
The Whale,” the project was met with equal parts excitement and trepidation. Aronofsky remains a beloved auteur in many circles, though his reputation grown more divisive over the years. The film was spotlighted early on as a likely awards contender for Brendan Fraser, a prediction that has held true. At the same time, “The Whale” was derided even before it was released
as fatphobic. A24, a company who pride themselves on selling unsellable arthouse fair to savvy viewers, seemed to base the entire advertising campaign around
a single image. This prompted suggestions the project might be a fiasco. When reviews started to roll in,
they were mixed, with raves coming alongside accusations that “The Whale” is a miserablist slog. The film remains hotly debated, though the Academy saw fit to give it three nominations.
Eight years ago, English professor Charlie would leave his wife and daughter, Ellie, to pursue a relationship with Alan, a male student. Due to his family's religious background, Alan would eventually commit suicide. Heartbroken, Charlie would begin to binge eat. Now morbidly obese and confined to his home, Charlie teaches his class remotely and refuses to show his face. His only friend is Liz, his nurse and Alan's brother, who knows Charlie's congestive heart failure will end his life soon. Following an appearance from Thomas, a missionary from the same church Alan came from, Charlie makes one last desperate attempt to reach out to a now teenage Ellie. She still resents her father but, seesawing between hope and despair, Charlie attempts to break through her thorny exterior.
“The Whale” contains emotions to match the size of its protagonists. By which I mean that this is a melodrama with a capital M. Characters cry and weep, in agony and joy. They scream and swear at each other, blowing all their anger and frustration at one another. Every thought and feeling is expressed in very big, showy manners. Ellie and Charlie's interactions are never less than fraught with lifelong resentment. When his ex-wife finally appears on-screen, the history between the two comes right up to the surface. Liz gives a monologue to Thomas midway through the film, explaining her and Alan's background, that is an Oscar clip moment if I've ever seen one. This approach will put many viewers off, “The Whale” coming across as an over-the-top display of ghastly emotion.
Yet melodrama has its place, on the stage most of all. I actually find the emotions in “The Whale” rather effective. This is a movie determined to get tears out of the audience, to make you cry from the sheer pathetic humanity on-display. In service of that goal, the script hammers the viewer over the head with its themes. Charlie repeatedly expresses the importance of honesty, of being truthful to yourself and with others. Despite this being a movie where plenty of cruelty is shown, it's ultimately a story about forgiveness and acceptance. About how people are, ultimately, good and kind. If you, by some chance, missed these ideas, the characters outright say them into the camera several times.
If you've got a taste for melodrama that wears its ambitions and emotions right on its plus-sized sleeves, than “The Whale” will definitely activate your waterworks. Yet the film often gave me reason to doubt its sincerity. Darren Aronofsky's directorial style is claustrophobic and grungy, bringing his work on “
Requiem for a Dream” to mind. That movie was a punishing gauntlet for the viewer. “The Whale” often operates in a similar vein. The screaming volume of its emotional content can't help but make you uncomfortable. An oppressive atmosphere of smothering despair hangs over much of the proceedings, emphasized by how cramped and disorderly Charlie's apartment is. (The film is set against the backdrop of the 2016 election, with talks of the end time from Thomas, furthering this apocalyptic feeling.)
Perhaps Aronofsky was seeking to make the audience feel the same way Charlie does, suffocating under his own mass. It certainly draws lots of attention to his physical appearance. His sweaty, greasy folds and mounds of fat are made as grotesque as possible. We see him in various states of undress, his gut practically dragging on the floor. He's always covered in flop sweat, his hair sticking to his head, whether he's choking on a meatball sub or just sitting on his couch. That sense that “The Whale” is as much freakish geek show as it is exploration of human failings reaches its nadir during a scene of Charlie binge-eating in depression, climaxing with him vomiting into a bucket. Those who prematurely accused “The Whale” of fatphobia were, I'm afraid, right to be concerned. As much as Aronofsky
claims to want to show Charlie's humanity, it reacts at disgust to his body as much as several characters do throughout the film.
Whether you find “The Whale's” approach off-putting, overbearing, or dishonest, it remains a display for its cast. Brendan Fraser always exuded an incredible sincerity, whether it was a serious drama like “School Ties” or “Gods & Monsters” or light-hearted comedies like “Encino Man” or “George of the Jungle.” This is probably why so many people on the internet have come to
cheer him on during his comeback, likely to reach fruition with his Oscar win for this performance. It's a good use of Fraser, who sells the gasping-emotions of Charlie as he faces down his final days. Even if Fraser is much more believable when delivering Charlie's dissertations on kindness, than he is when wallowing in self-loathing. Fraser is given strong support from Sadie Sink, who keeps up a prickly exterior that's clearly hiding a vulnerable inner child. As well as Hong Chau as Liz, a practical woman who is desperately trying to hold it together in the face of inevitable tragedy.
“The Whale's” overwrought melodrama continues up until the final moment, which is by far the film's most ponderous scene. It's a hard film to like, Aronofsky's edge-lord tendencies betraying him more than once as he stops to focus on the humiliating, dehumanizing elements of Charlie's struggle. Or in Ellie's frankly bitchy behavior. This can't help but undermine a script that is trying to find the best in everyone. The result is a movie that feels depressing and off-putting for its own sake. This makes it all the odder that Aronofsky retains all the sappy elements from the original play. The result is a movie I'm not sure at all how to respond to, beyond admiring the performances. “The Whale” is either well-intentioned but wildly misguided or deeply cynical to its core and I can't tell which. [6/10]
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