The Whale - Review

Rating: 4 out of 5

DARREN Aronofsky's The Whale is, in many ways, as Oscar-baiting as films come, featuring a tick-box collection of awards courting issues. But in spite of this, it remains an affecting human drama that is redeemed by the gut-wrenching power of its ensemble performances.

Adapted by Samuel D Hunter from his own play, the film follows the final week in the life of Charlie (Brendan Fraser), a gay Ohio literature professor, who has decided to eat himself to death having become terminally depressed since the suicide of his lover, several years ago.

Charlie is morbidly obese. He is guilt-stricken and severely traumatised, confined to a life indoors, and only really seen by his loyal, loving carer, Liz (Hong Chau).

Over the course of five days, however, Charlie gets an unlikely (ie, movie-driven) shot at some kind of personal redemption as fate brings him the chance to reconnect with his 17-year-old daughter, Ellie (Sadie Sink), who he hasn't seen since he left her, and to engage with his own feelings of guilt and complicity in his lover's death following the arrival of a door-to-door missionary (Ty Simpkins), who is determined to save his soul.

The ensuing screenplay works as both a redemptive tale for Charlie, while also forcing the characters surrounding him - including the audience - to confront any of their own prejudices about issues relating to sexuality, body image, religion and responsibility. As such, it is not always easy to watch.

For some, the film's messaging has felt awkward and inauthentic - in other words, awards-courting of the worst kind. Others have also criticised the decision to cast Fraser and place him in a fat suit, rather than finding someone more authentic and representative to fill the role. And there is merit in both schools of thinking.

But that's not to say that Fraser doesn't go all in. His performance feels genuine and hard-earned - you can feel every nuance, from every uncomfortable (and sweaty) movement through to his overwhelming feelings of shame and regret.

His performance goes a long way to enabling the film to confront society's attitude to obesity, sexuality and mental health, even if it takes some pretty broad and hopelessly generic swipes. But then it's often the case, when dealing with any of these issues, that in order to raise the broader awareness needed to foster understanding and empathy, you need to engage on the broadest level. The Whale does just that.

And while Fraser is undoubtedly the focal point, and a powerhouse central presence, Aronofsky also allows others to shine, thereby bringing in other viewpoints and adding extra depth.

Chau is particularly affecting as Charlie's carer (and the only family member who still gives a damn about him, in spite of her proximity to the death of his lover) - and she arguably deserves a lot more credit than she seems to have received.

But Sink also shines as Charlie's rebellious sister, still scarred and angry by her father's decision to leave her when she was so young... and there's a blistering, albeit brief, cameo from the ever-reliable Samantha Morton, as Charlie's ex-wife.

It's in the depth of its performances that the film finds its true power - and which enables it to earn its tears once the film reaches its unashamedly sentimental (and ultimately hopeful) conclusion.

And while this certainly feels like a Hollywood construct which may do a disservice to many real-life experiences of living with any of the issues the film confronts, by inviting audiences to engage with these issues the hope remains that progress in overcoming stereotypes and finding more compassion can still be made.