The Whale

Darren Aronofsky is known for his intriguing central protagonists; not necessarily tragic heroes in the traditional sense but individuals who at least convey some sense of morality or innocence when they’re first introduced. And then Aronofsky absolutely destroys them; physically, morally, spiritually. We watch as these characters succumb to depravity of the most devastating order; finally obtaining what they always wanted but sacrificing their souls in the process. Sara Goldfarb in “Requiem for a Dream” receiving electroshock therapy in her beautiful red dress that she was going to wear on television, Nina in “Black Swan” reaching artistic perfection but dying upon achieving it, Randy Robinson in “The Wrestler” ignoring the pains in his chest and performing his signature move to the screams of his adoring fans. They are all somewhat grotesque in their downfall, a horrific and tragic shadow of whatever semblance of the good person they once were. What is interesting about “The Whale”, is that Charlie’s character arc is actually one of redemption. And that’s a significant subversion in Aronofsky’s style; the film’s protagonist actually achieves what he desires at the film’s inception, but also conversely gains peace with the world.

“The Whale” is a very simple story; Charlie Harkonnen (Brendan Fraser) is an English instructor – gay, divorced, morbidly obese after the loss of his boyfriend, estranged from his daughter and confined to his dingy house where his only visitor is his nurse Liz (Hong Chau). Liz constantly urges Charlie to go to hospital as he’s at severe risk for congenital heart failure, but he insists that he can’t afford it. This is a lie however; he has $120,000 in his bank account and offers it to his estranged daughter Ellie (Sadie Sink), who is also somewhat of a derelict, to spend time with him without telling her mother. He will also rewrite her English essays since she’s failing, his only condition that she write honestly for him in a notebook he gives her. We learn about his world, confined to his dark flat, and his interactions through the glass with his pizza deliveryman. As Charlie’s health deteriorates, he abandons all pride or shame about his condition in a final desperate attempt to find something good and honest before he dies.

Aronofsky’s capacity for portraying the grotesque and horrific is on full display here. Just like the symbol of Moby Dick the white whale (which is effectively albeit perhaps a little heavy handedly evoked throughout the film), Aronofsky challenges us to see beyond the monstrous image of what Charlie has become to the good man underneath. And the imagery is deliberately confronting; the sight of Charlie lumbering shirtless across his house is one that barely resembles a man at all anymore, but a hulking, terrifying beast. A spectacle which is both awe inspiring and terrifying. The sound as he chows down on his bucket of fried chicken is exacerbated to evoke revulsion; again, not a man but a pig going to town on its bucket of slops. Aronofsky has been criticised for being insensitive or even cruel in his portrayal of Charlie. I don’t think this is justified however; there is an ongoing theme in this story of finding beauty where others aren’t able to. In order for this theme to make any sense at all, it needs to be evident why Charlie is afraid to show himself to the world outside. And why he doesn’t feel he deserves to be seen.

This is where casting Brendan Fraser was such a brilliant move; there is a beautiful warmth in Fraser’s face and eyes which permeates through all the make up and prosthetics. Even his voice in the opening credits feels like a welcome cuddle from an old friend. And in a sense it is, this is Fraser’s first major film role in years. He too in a way had been forgotten and cast aside from the world, so the whole thing just fits. And his performance is phenomenal. Of course the prosthetics have played a major role in being able to portray the character, but the way in which Fraser has embodied the physicality of Charlie and the strength required to even walk with that kind of weight is extraordinary. Fraser brings humanity to Charlie, and humour and pain. However his relationship with Liz is probably the only one that really rings properly true, due largely to the chemistry between Chau and Fraser, but also because the other characters in the film aren’t as well constructed. The way his disgruntled deadbeat daughter Ellie is written isn’t entirely convincing, and as such their reconciliation and her obnoxious teenage angst felt somewhat forced. As is the unusual subplot involving Ellie and a missionary named Thomas (Ty Sympkins).

There is a lot to admire in Darren Aronofsky’s “The Whale”, far beyond just the film’s make up and prosthetics team. This is a powerful, fable-esque story with a formidable central performance in Brendan Fraser and an unexpectedly beautiful message in the redemptive power in seeking “something honest” in life.

By Jock Lehman