The Whale (2022) - A Film Review

Yesterday evening, I went to the cinema to see The Whale.

Just over twenty-four hours later, I am still reeling from the experience such that I feel compelled to write it all down in my first official film review*

*Please note there will be spoilers*

Brendan Fraser stars as Charlie, a morbidly obese teacher who is suffering from depression and has developed an eating disorder after the loss of his partner. His close friend and carer Liz (played by an exceptional Hong Chau) informs him he has congestive heart failure, a mere few days left to live, and urges him to seek hospital treatment, which Charlie refuses. What unfolds is the next few days, in which Charlie is cared for by Liz, and is visited by a missionary from a local church (Ty Simpkins) and his estranged daughter (Sadie Sink), with whom he attempts to reconnect.

With the action taking place in Charlie's dimly lit, cluttered apartment, the only real source of light bursts in as each character enters and exits. You might think this set up would make a great stage play, and in fact it was initially a play written by Samuel D. Hunter before he adapted it for the screen. The isolation of the apartment and trapping corridors are representative of Charlie's psychological state, the walls seeming to close in on him as he navigates through his suffering, which is particularly poignant in one instance where he cannot fit through the door to a particular room that represents a part of his past too painful for him to revisit. While director Darren Aronofsky could have been tempted to include more external scenes for context, I am glad he didn't, as the single set achieves the intense feeling of claustrophobia and unease, and keeps our focus on Fraser, who is in virtually every scene.

And there is only one way to put it: Brendan Fraser is exceptional. It is hard to imagine anyone else portraying Charlie as he does, in a prosthetic suit that must have weighed 200 pounds or more. One moment, your eyes will widen in shock as he consumes pizza or chicken wings, the grease dripping down his fingers and sweat trickling from his temples, and the next, you will weep as he speaks so softly and kindly of others while facing a barrage of criticism and disgust, all the while his round blue eyes hopeful despite his inevitable situation. Chau nearly steals the show with her sensational performance of Liz, whose loyalty to Charlie is conflicted with her desire to save him having not been able to save the life of her brother, and Sink does not disappoint either as the angry, pained Ellie. There is also an explosive cameo from Samantha Morton, but it is Fraser's star that shines the brightest. He is truly captivating and well-deserving of as many awards as he can carry.

The script is layered with poetic substance, and although it won't be for everyone, I really appreciated those elements, including the repeated readings of the one essay that Charlie cherishes the most; an elementary yet honest review of the book Moby Dick. We are introduced to a reading of this immediately which quashes the notion that the film's title is solely referencing the size of its main character.

As Charlie's condition worsens, so does the viewer's anxiety that there can surely be only one ending to his story. And then before you are ready for it, the film does end, and you might be sat as I was, the final images flashing behind your eyes, wondering how the last two hours could have passed so quickly. I remember sitting for a few minutes, looking around at the reaction of my fellow cinema-goers, who were also slightly in shock and weeping uncontrollably.

As a lover of drama, perhaps I am biased. However, I have never been emotionally touched so deeply by a film than I was by The Whale. It is a story of love, honesty, self-destruction and grief, and I have a burning desire to watch it immediately again, but it would probably be best if I let myself recover a bit first.