Darren Aronofsky isn’t a stranger to sadness. Requiem for a Dream explored how quickly pleasure and dependence can plummet to pain and despair. Black Swan illustrated the relationship between potential and doubt. The Wrestler was a swan song of hard and fast success. His latest film, The Whale, asks what happens when someone’s past the breaking point, so bloated with anguish and regret they sink to the bottom of an emotional sea. Maybe their breath gets shallower, their hope becomes extinguished, or their body readies for the decomposers and scavengers.
The film finds Aronofsky in a rare (though not unheard of) form. The Whale is an adaptation of Samuel D. Hunter’s 2012 play of the same name. Though its title works on many levels, the most obvious is an insult to the protagonist — a 600-pound English professor.
Aronofsky approaches the subject with sincerity, but not much sensitivity. It should be very clear this film does not meaningfully convey the reality of living with obesity. The story has heart, but for those wanting a truer look at fatness, try Carlota Pereda’s Piggy.
The Whale rises above the tide, however, in the way it ponders a seemingly wasted life. Here’s how:
A Colossal Performance
This cannot be understated: Brendan Fraser’s turn in this role is exceptional. It’s not as though many people are still questioning his acting skill, but there’s enough lingering suspicion that the subject should be put to rest. Fraser is as good as his biggest fans say he is and we don’t deserve him.
The Whale is to Fraser what The Wrestler is to Mickey Rourke. It just took Aronofsky’s casting to prove how organic, moving, and convincing the two often typecasted stars really are. Considering other films like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, you might be surprised just how unexpectedly powerful a talent can be with the right story.
And The Whale is a perfect vehicle for Fraser. Charlie (Fraser) lives in isolation after the death of his partner, Alan. Years of depression turn into decades, and Charlie likewise turns to binge eating. His demise isn’t far on account of a recent heart attack and his refusal to go to a hospital. In the opening scene, his last friend, Liz (Hong Chau), believes he’ll be dead within a week.
Charlie’s life is haunted by a palpable, suffocating dread. He can’t even manage to laugh without a painful wheeze. His apologies are rampant, and Fraser hits every “sorry” with a subtle yet powerful timbre.
The film’s steered by Hunter (also the screenwriter) in a more theatric direction. Even so, Fraser melds high drama into an organic and moving portrayal. Let’s hope the Fraser renaissance doesn’t end here.
The Orbiting Frame
The Whale goes places without literally going anywhere at all. The camera never gets further than the porch of Charlie’s apartment. The only exceptions are the opening shot and a few very brief flashbacks.
The setting is a stark reminder: Charlie will not be leaving his house. Any shot at redemption will have to be taken from his living room.
Charlie’s front door is a tether to the only people that matter in his life. His bedroom, rigged with supports, might as well be his tomb. And his kitchen is a merciless reminder of his condition.
A portion of the film also takes place through an online college portal. Charlie keeps his webcam off to mask himself from his class. Instead, he’s a black rectangle amid a collage of uninterested faces. Still, he pleads for his students to produce something “real.” On-screen, a black void begs whoever’s listening to be more human.
These sequences are more evidence of Charlie’s conundrum. He wants to evoke change despite his own stagnation. His class won’t produce anything honest until he leads by example.
The Whale’s use of shadows and how they demonstrate time point to its roots in theater. While not outright distracting, it does beg the question of why Aronofsky chose to do so little with his medium. For a film that was percolating for a decade, it sometimes feels static, and for a few scenes in the third act, redundant without cause.
The film’s strength rightfully lies in its characters. Still, in the hindsight of Mother!, some may wonder why Aronofsky was so subdued.
Big Heart, Big Problems
If all Charlie clung to was whether or not his work mattered, there wouldn’t be all that much to his struggle. The film’s quick to confirm things are a bit more complicated.
Charlie left his wife, Mary (Samantha Morton), to be with Alan. Coming out of the closet also estranged him from his daughter, Ellie (Sadie Sink). Ellie is a professional shit-stirrer by the time she winds up at Charlie’s apartment. Hopeful she’ll inherit $100k her dad could’ve used for needed medical attention, Ellie curbs her boredom by antagonizing Charlie. Sink’s performance is solid, though a tad overzealous.
But Charlie clings to her. He reiterates she’s not lost even when her behavior does more to expedite death. Charlie’s body isn’t an imminent corpse, but a foundry capable of converting spite into love.
The Whale argues even in the bleakest moments, there’s always someone to live for (even if they hurl more than a few insults). The optimism it champions isn’t unfounded, but persistent.
The Whale opens as a wide release in theaters Wednesday, December 21st.
