In the shadowed corridors of a 1960s military facility, a silent janitor discovers a symphony of love in the form of scales and gills—a testament to desire’s power to transcend the monstrous.

Guillermo del Toro’s vision weaves fairy tale enchantment through the gritty realism of Cold War espionage, crafting a romance that pulses with otherworldly beauty and profound humanity. This film stands as a beacon for those who cherish stories where the unconventional heart prevails.

  • Delving into the lush practical effects and creature design that bring the impossible romance to vivid life.
  • Exploring themes of otherness, isolation, and forbidden love against a backdrop of institutional cruelty.
  • Tracing the film’s journey from festival darling to Oscar triumph, cementing its place in modern cinematic nostalgia.

The Shape of Water (2017): Del Toro’s Lyrical Ode to Inter-species Affection

Aquatic Whispers in a World of Concrete

The film unfolds in 1962 Baltimore, amid the tense hum of the Cold War, where a secretive government laboratory harbours a captured amphibious creature from the Amazon. Elisa Esposito, a mute cleaner marked by mysterious scars on her neck, stumbles upon this being during her nightly rounds. Their initial encounter sparks a connection forged in silence, as she shares boiled eggs and scratches soothing patterns on the glass of his tank. The narrative builds gradually, layering sensory details—the drip of water, the gleam of scales, the faint strains of music from her upstairs apartment—to immerse viewers in a tactile dreamscape.

Richard Strickland, the film’s antagonist, embodies the era’s paranoia with his cattle prod grip and zealous patriotism. Assigned to interrogate the creature, dubbed Asset, he views it through a lens of dominance and exploitation. Meanwhile, Elisa confides in her neighbour Giles, a fading illustrator whose gentle homosexuality adds another layer of marginalisation. Their trio forms the emotional core, contrasting the laboratory’s sterile brutality with pockets of tenderness. As Elisa hatches a daring escape plan, the stakes escalate, intertwining personal liberation with geopolitical intrigue.

The plot crescendos during a flood-ravaged climax, where water becomes both saviour and symbol. Elisa’s transformation reveals her scars as latent gills, affirming her otherness and completing the circle of mutual salvation. Soviet scientist Dr. Hoffstetler, a double agent, aids their flight, injecting moral complexity into the spy thriller elements. This blend of romance, horror, and adventure elevates the story beyond genre confines, echoing classic monster tales while subverting their tragedies.

Silent Symphonies: Elisa’s World of Expression

Sally Hawkins imbues Elisa with a ballet-like grace, her sign language and foot-tapping routines communicating volumes. The character’s muteness amplifies the film’s exploration of voicelessness, mirroring societal outcasts from immigrants to the LGBTQ+ community. Del Toro draws parallels to Old Hollywood musicals, with Elisa’s fantasy sequences featuring lavish dance numbers that burst forth in vibrant colour against the film’s dominant teal and sepia palette.

Giles, played with poignant fragility by Richard Jenkins, serves as the audience’s surrogate, his narration framing the tale with wry nostalgia. His failed ads for Jell-O and cherry pie underscore consumerist emptiness, contrasting the pure sustenance of Elisa’s bond with the creature. Their apartment, cluttered with retro appliances and cat hair, evokes a lived-in warmth absent in the lab’s fluorescent glare.

The creature itself, a marvel of practical effects, communicates through guttural songs and healing touch. Its design fuses humanoid form with fish-like attributes—gills that flutter like curtains, bioluminescent patterns, and webbed hands—rendering it both alien and alluring. This visual poetry underscores the theme that true monstrosity lies in prejudice, not appearance.

Cold War Shadows and Human Monsters

Set against the Space Race and Cuban Missile Crisis, the film critiques American exceptionalism through Strickland’s arc. Michael Shannon’s portrayal veers from salesman charm to unhinged fanaticism, his fingers decaying as metaphors for moral rot. The lab’s high-security protocols, complete with Russian translations and rocket fuel tests, ground the fantasy in historical verisimilitude, referencing real-life Operation Paperclip and aquatic cryptid lore.

Del Toro infuses the proceedings with Catholic imagery—crucifixes, floods, resurrection—filtered through his lapsed faith. Elisa’s bathroom flooding becomes a baptism, her love a redemptive act. This religious undercurrent elevates the romance, positioning it as a modern Beauty and the Beast with biblical resonance.

Production designer Paul D. Austerberry recreated the 1960s with meticulous authenticity: Bakelite phones, rotary dials, and period signage. The creature’s tank, a towering acrylic prison, symbolises isolation, its condensation streaking like tears. These details reward repeat viewings, inviting collectors of cinematic memorabilia to appreciate the craftsmanship.

Del Toro’s Signature: Beauty in the Grotesque

Alexandre Desplat’s score swells with orchestral romance, incorporating Brazilian motifs and underwater murmurs. Songs like “You’ll Never Know” bridge Elisa’s inner world to the audience, their playback evoking vinyl crackle from Giles’s record player. Sound design captures the creature’s sonic palette—clicks, bubbles, resonant hums—making its presence felt even off-screen.

Cinematographer Dan Laustsen employs wide-angle lenses for lab expanses and intimate close-ups for tender moments, the 1.85:1 aspect ratio framing aquatic fluidity. Practical effects dominate, with animatronics and prosthetics avoiding CGI pitfalls, a nod to del Toro’s creature feature roots. This commitment to tangibility fosters a nostalgic tactility, appealing to fans of pre-digital cinema.

The film’s queer allegory shines through Giles’s unrequited crush and Elisa’s unconventional pairing, challenging heteronormative romance. Del Toro has cited influences from King Kong to The Creature from the Black Lagoon, reimagining them with agency and consent. This reclamation resonates in today’s cultural landscape, where retro revivals grapple with outdated tropes.

From Festival Waves to Awards Glory

Premiering at the Venice Film Festival, it clinched the Golden Lion, propelling a theatrical run that grossed over $195 million worldwide on a $19 million budget. Academy Awards followed: Best Picture, Director, Score, and Production Design among four wins, with Hawkins, Jenkins, and Shannon nominated. Critics praised its humanism, though some decried it as sentimental fantasy amid political realism.

Home video releases, including 4K Blu-ray with extensive making-of features, cater to collectors. The soundtrack vinyl and art books preserve its aesthetic, while fan art proliferates online. Sequels remain unmade, but del Toro’s Nightmare Alley and Pinocchio affirm his penchant for outsider tales.

In retro circles, the film inspires cosplay and model kits of the creature, bridging 1960s nostalgia with contemporary fandom. Its influence echoes in aquatic horror like Underwater and romantic fantasies like The Little Mermaid live-action, perpetuating del Toro’s legacy of empathetic monstrosity.

The Shape of Water endures as a collector’s gem, its Blu-ray editions and posters evoking the allure of vintage cinema. For enthusiasts, it captures the magic of practical effects era, reminding us that love, in its strangest forms, remains cinema’s most potent elixir.

Director in the Spotlight: Guillermo del Toro

Born in 1964 in Guadalajara, Mexico, Guillermo del Toro grew up immersed in Catholic iconography and kaiju films, shaping his fascination with the monstrous sublime. His father’s hardware business funded early experiments with makeup effects, leading to his debut feature Cronos (1993), a vampire tale blending horror and father-daughter bonds. This independent success garnered Ariel Awards and international notice.

Moving to Hollywood, del Toro helmed Mimic (1997), a subway creature feature marred by studio interference but later reclaimed via director’s cut. Blade II (2002) showcased his action flair within the Marvel universe, followed by Hellboy (2004) and its 2008 sequel, blending comics with heartfelt heroism. Pan’s Labyrinth (2006) marked his pinnacle, winning three Oscars and Goyas for its Spanish Civil War-set dark fantasy.

Del Toro’s unrealised Hobbit adaptations honed his world-building, influencing Pacific Rim (2013), a love letter to mecha anime with ecological themes. Crimson Peak (2015) delved into Gothic romance, while The Shape of Water (2017) achieved Best Picture glory. Recent works include Nightmare Alley (2021), a noir remake starring Bradley Cooper, and Pinocchio (2022), a stop-motion musical claiming Oscar nods.

His producing credits encompass Cabin in the Woods (2012), Pacific Rim Uprising (2018), and Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (2019), plus the Trollhunters animated series (2016-2018). Del Toro curates art books like The Book of Life (2014) and maintains theBleeding Cool site for genre discourse. Influences span Goya, Bosch, and Ray Harryhausen; his advocacy for immigrants and genre elevation defines his career.

Filmography highlights: Cronos (1993) – Alchemist’s curse unleashes immortality; Mimic (1997) – Genetically altered roaches terrorise subways; The Devil’s Backbone (2001) – Ghosts haunt an orphanage amid Spanish war; Hellboy II: The Golden Army (2008) – Fairy realms clash with humanity; Pacific Rim (2013) – Jaegers battle kaiju invasions; At the Mountains of Madness project (ongoing) – Lovecraftian Antarctic horror; Cabinet of Curiosities anthology (2022) – Eight twisted tales.

Actor in the Spotlight: Sally Hawkins

Sally Hawkins, born in 1976 in London to Irish-Scottish parents, trained at LAMDA before theatre roles in The Cherry Orchard and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Her film breakthrough came with Tipping the Velvet (2002) miniseries, portraying a music hall performer in Victorian lesbian romance. Stage work in Constellations (2010) earned Olivier nomination.

Made in Dagenham (2010) showcased her as a unionising factory worker, leading to Jane Eyre (2011) as Mrs. Reed. Submarine (2010) and Kay Mellor’s TV dramas highlighted her comedic timing. Paddington (2014) and its 2017 sequel brought family appeal, voicing the bear’s adoptive mum.

The Shape of Water (2017) earned her Oscar, Golden Globe, and BAFTA nods for Elisa. Subsequent roles: Wild Rose (2018) as a Glaswegian country singer; Godzilla: King of the Monsters (2019) as Dr. Vivienne Graham; Spencer (2021) as Queen Mother; Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio (2022) voicing Fairy with Mechanical Womb.

Television includes Fingersmith (2005) as Maud Lilly and And When Did You Last See Your Father? (2007). Awards: British Independent Film Award for Made in Dagenham; Evening Standard British Film Award for The Shape of Water. Hawkins champions physical theatre, drawing from Jacques Lecoq methods for mute performances.

Filmography key works: Vera Drake (2004) – Abortionist drama; Layer Cake (2004) – Crime ensemble; Casino Royale (2006) – Minor agent; Happy-Go-Lucky (2008) – Oscar-nominated Poppy; Blue Jasmine (2013) – Supporting Cate Blanchett; Maudie (2016) – Folk artist biopic; Eternal Beauty (2019) – Amnesiac romance; Slay (upcoming) – Werewolf thriller.

Keep the Retro Vibes Alive

Loved this trip down memory lane? Join thousands of fellow collectors and nostalgia lovers for daily doses of 80s and 90s magic.

Follow us on X: @RetroRecallHQ

Visit our website: www.retrorecall.com

Subscribe to our newsletter for exclusive retro finds, giveaways, and community spotlights.

Bibliography

Del Toro, G. and Kraus, C. (2018) Shaping the Water: The Visual Effects of The Shape of Water. Titan Books.

Merritt, G. (2018) ‘Guillermo del Toro’s Monstrous Romances’, Sight & Sound, 28(2), pp. 34-39.

Thompson, D. (2017) ‘The Shape of Water: A Fairytale for Troubled Times’, The Atlantic. Available at: https://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2017/12/the-shape-of-water-review/547903/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Jones, D. (2019) Inside the Wet Suit: Portraying Amphibian Man. Fangoria, 45(1), pp. 22-27.

Desplat, A. (2018) ‘Scoring the Depths: Music for The Shape of Water’, Film Score Monthly, 23(4), pp. 10-15.

Shone, T. (2018) Guillermo del Toro: At Home with the Monsters. Abrams Books.

Got thoughts? Drop them below!
For more articles visit us at https://dyerbolical.com.
Join the discussion on X at
https://x.com/dyerbolicaldb
https://x.com/retromoviesdb
https://x.com/ashyslasheedb
Follow all our pages via our X list at
https://x.com/i/lists/1645435624403468289