From the start, there’s something off about “The Whale.” Maybe it’s the claustrophobic set, the dimly lit atmosphere, or the musical score. Or maybe it’s the fact that the film represents likely the most “normal” film that director Darren Aronofsky (“Requiem for a Dream,” “Black Swan”) has ever made. As a director whose previous works have heavily trafficked in the absurd, fantastical, and horrific, seeing a work as intimate as this is, for better or worse, a huge departure.
Adapted by Samuel D. Hunter (“Baskets”) from his own stage play, the film follows Charlie, played by Brendan Fraser (“The Mummy,” “Doom Patrol”), a gay reclusive college professor struggling with morbid obesity and congestive heart failure. We see him try to reconnect with his daughter Ellie, played by Sadie Sink (“Fear Street Part Two: 1978,” “Stranger Things”), conversing with door-to-door monastery Thomas, played by Ty Simpkins (“Insidious,” “Iron Man 3”), and trying to keep his spirits up with his personal nurse and best friend Liz, played by Hong Chau (“Downsizing,” “The Menu”).
There’s been plenty said about the film’s portrayal of obesity and while it's easy to point fingers at the source material, it has to be said that Aronofsky's very particular style and viewpoint definitely add something to the film adaptation. What he adds ends up being a kind of zookeeper like visual aesthetic that often times invites audiences to point and stare and gawk at Charlie’s size. It feels incredibly awkward and uncomfortable, and maybe that’s the point, but it certainly doesn’t feel respectful of the character or the person.
Which is odd since the film seems to require it. This tale requires that the viewer empathize with Charlie and moments like him opening a drawer full of health snacks and frowning, before opening a drawer with candy bars and smiling feel almost cartoonish. However, those moments, and the film itself, do have a secret weapon: Fraser. His performance is towering and incredible, and there are so many moments that start out cartoonish that feel retroactively corrected by the emotion and skill of his talent. He’s the heart of the movie by virtue, but he never rests on that idea, working to earn Charlie’s spot in our hearts at every turn.
It’s a role so excellent that it fundamentally saves that film. Whatever weird look at obesity that Aronofsky could have turned this into with another actor is twisted into a heartbreaking drama because of Fraser. Without him, the film would simply be worse. Yes, it’s a big dramatic role for an actor we haven’t seen in quite a while, but Fraser never rests on expectations. He's working at every moment to earn the empathy for Charlie and the love for his performance.
As for the rest of the cast? Well, even in comparison to Fraser’s role, they’re hit or miss. Simpkins may have some boyish awkwardness but he’s overall fine in his role, nothing worth writing home about. Chau is fantastic meanwhile, playing wonderfully off of Fraser to the point where it’s easy to wish the film was just the two of them. Sink meanwhile is playing things up to an almost disastrous degree; yes, the point of her character is that she’s mean, but the acting calls to mind a sitcom on the Disney Channel, disconnected from the reality of the film. The same goes for Samantha Morton’s (“Synecdoche, New York,” “The Walking Dead”) brief appearance as Charlie’s ex-wife and Ellie’s mother Mary, overplaying things for the entirety of her very brief appearance.
For a movie that is essentially a filmed version of a static stage play, it is shot remarkably well. Cinematographer Matthew Libatique (“Requiem for a Dream,” “A Star is Born (2018)”) takes full advantage of the enclosed set, lighting things with dreary colors and creating an oppressive atmosphere that practically locks out all colors brighter than beige. It’s a specific look that works for the mood of the film and the rare stage-to-film adaptation that seems to make full use of its static nature.
“The Whale” is a complicated film that’s biggest issue seems to be the one sitting directly behind the camera. With a play, the entire point is that it's simply a showcase for the actors. There is no camera zooming in on specific moments to put them on display, nor is there a person telling the camera what moments to zero in on. It’s why so many works on the stage are effective at removing their visual point of view, because the nature of the medium means that there isn’t one.
In the hands of a more subtle or empathetic director, this could be a true masterpiece. However, as it stands, this is a flawed film that exists best as a showcase of the difference between an actor and a director who clearly are approaching a character from two different viewpoints. None of that can ruin Fraser’s towering performance though, which, set against Chau’s great supporting performance and the film’s cinematograph, still provide a story worth watching. 3.5/5
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