There's a very intense mood hanging over this claustrophobic, misery-soaked drama about a depressed English teacher. That first line doesn't paint the rosiest picture, does it? Granted, it's not a barrel but it has a few moments of lightness that trickle through the funk. Brendan Fraser plays Charlie, a fella who has let himself go to obesity, thanks mainly to an earlier trauma. His visual performance is pretty amazing, especially when you remember that this is the dashing beefcake from the Mummy films and...ahhhh....Encino Man. He's helped by a flubbery prosthetic suit but, even so, every time he struggles to get up, or shoves some food down his neck, there's a noticeable audience reaction. As good as he is, I don't quite understand the adulation that's been following Fraser around regarding this performance. Maybe it's recognition of the troubles he's been having (apparently, many film-related injuries, a messy divorce and even an alleged sexual assault by a Hollywood bigwig - look it up), maybe it's just that he seems a thoroughly decent egg and people wish him well. He might well have an Oscar on his shelf in a few weeks (though that'd be daylight robbery from Colin Farrell).
You may be thinking that calling the film The Whale is a bit insensitive, but it actually has more to do with Herman Melville's book, Moby-Dick, than Charlie's bulk - though he does cop a lot of shit from his daughter, Ellie (Sadie Sink). She is still mad at him for leaving her and her mother, Mary (good to see a typically edgy turn from Samantha Morton). Oh, and she's a proper arsehole too, though it's mildly amusing to watch her wind up the callow missionary, Thomas (Ty Simpkins). Solid support is also provided by Hong Chau as Liz, Charlie's friend and nurse.
Back to Moby - the conceit of the film is that when Charlie thinks he's dying, he reads (or has read to him) an essay about the novel, ostensibly because it's a good piece of writing. This motif occurs right at the start, when Thomas interrupts him at work, and pops up now and then during the film. The final payoff may seem trite to some, endearing to others - I'd side marginally with the latter. And I would have been much more on board were it not for the overt religious metaphor at the climax.
It's an odd little film, this. It's very clearly based on a play (by Samuel D. Hunter) and it's almost wholly contained within the walls of Charlie's dingy apartment. I counted three external shots in the whole film - the opening long shot of a bus dropping someone on an empty road, another long shot of the carpark of Charlie's, and the reverse of that shot. Even the rare balcony scenes were tightly cropped, acting as an 'outside' room. Add to that the 4:3 aspect ratio and the grungy colour palette and you've got deliberately mundane, even unappealing pictures. Maybe that's just director, Darren Aronofsky's calling card - he's not the most exuberant filmmaker going around. It's also an example of the 'ticking clock' film, a film built around a countdown, illustrated by titles marking off the days. This might be a reasonable framing device but it does tend to ratchet up the despondency in a film like this. Look, in saying all that, I didn't mind this film, but it certainly wasn't a fun watch.
The Whale opens at the Luna and Palace cinemas on Feb 2nd.
See also:
Fraser is very good opposite Michael Caine in Phillip Noyce's The Quiet American (2002), and the food scenes put me in mind of Morgan Spurlock's great doco Super Size Me (2004).
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