The Whale (Venice Film Festival 2022 Review)

The Whale will absolutely tear audiences apart and have them weeping in this stripped back portrait of hopelessness, grief, and redemption.

Everyone loves a comeback, just as much as everyone loves a redemption story. Darren Aronofsky and A24 are no strangers to delivering unique stories riddled with their unique sensibilities, so to no surprise there is a seamless marriage between the two in THE WHALE: as beloved Hollywood darling Brendan Fraser, making his long-awaited return to the silver-screen in classic harrowing Aronofsky fashion as he earns every emotion, and even tear out of the audience.

Following a reclusive English teacher suffering from severe obesity and congestive heart failure attempts to reconnect with his estranged teenage daughter for one last chance at redemption.

The very premise of THE WHALE feels ripe material for Aronofsky who most excels in character studies about broken people who prove themselves to be their own worst enemy, and Charlie’s story is no different. His is story of self-destruction where to cope with the grief that has consumed him through the years, he begins to consumed all the food he can, eating away to forget what hails him, brought upon by the choice of abandoning his young 8-year-old daughter for his gay lover, who e eventually lost, blaming himself and his mistakes for it as someone who is not worthy of the love he lost.

But the film doesn’t play like a conventional drama, the story unravels over the course of 5 days where from the beginning there is a heightened sense of tension as the established dangers surrounding Charlie see every single waking moment in his life as dangerous: sitting on the couch, eating but not chewing enough, walking with his zimmerframe towards the bathroom, or the simple act of breathing, all of these prove a possible precarious situation for Charlie, forcing him and us the audience to be constantly confronted with his mortality.

Visually: the 4:3 aspect ratio proves itself a terrifying box that traps us as Charlie occupies every frame of the film as he looks so much bigger than his tiny, lonely apartment, giving us a sense of claustrophobia and a perfect illustration of how trapped Charlie has become not only in his body but also in his overwhelming grief over his choices and losses.

It’s a genuine way of presenting obesity on-screen, as the dramatic weight is delivered through story and themes, but enough humor comes from the characterizations and the way Charlie interacts with those around him. Particularly Liz (Hong Chau), a nurse who is his closest friend and caretaker, seemingly the one character who knows Charlie for who he is while also carrying all the frustrations of carrying for someone who is in such crushing, constant pain, inwards and outwards.

This relationship is only emotive as it is because of how lovingly Charlie comes across, he’s the kind of person you want to hug and hold tight resulting in a deeply moving, harrowing and depressingly sad watching. All of those emotions are elicited by a sensitive Brendan Fraser who bears it all on-screen in a layered and demanding performance, made all the more impressive due to how physically restrained he is.

With a role like this an actor will always put on a few pounds to embody the character, but there is also the art of prosthetics and make up: looking so eerily realistic with its fleshy texture, creating a haunting visual of Charlie as he walks and moves, or most times tries to, that is so painful to watch as it constantly reminds us of how much he’s fallen and how much his suffering has eaten away at him.

Fraser has to do so much with so little, as he finds himself sedentary for the majority of his screen time. Expressing everything between joy and pain with just his eyes or the quiver in his voice letting us hear his inner hopelessness. It’s both heart-breaking and impressive to see Fraser give so much to a role when he had never shown such range and keeping on this display of kindness and warmth towards his daughter Ellie (Sadie Sink) who proves herself a complete opposite, obviously due to her father’s abandonment at a young age.

She has grown bitter and angry, which Charlie appreciates as honesty when trying to let her in with encouragement and loving words while Ellie combats this with vitriolic verbally abusive, that while understandable can become somewhat one-note until the final 10 minutes that will deliver an emotional wallop to audiences.

Where The Whale falls somewhat short of its overall greatness is in its play nature, where the dialogue can become hoaky, particularly in a scene with Samantha Morton, the film just loses all the nuance and subtlety that elevated its narrative prior to this scene, where it’s so blatant in meaning it eats away at the emotion the moment it meant to convey as it builds up to the third act, which thankfully finds its footing again.

Furthermore, this is overall quite an accessible Aronosfky film, which can’t be said for a lot of his albeit stunning filmography, but all the worst Aronofsky-isms are found in Thomas (Ty Simpkins) a missionary on a religious question to save Charlie’s soul who save his life at the beginning of the film.

While the character works well enough at first, being promisingly intertwined into the thematics of faith grief and redemption, as it finds a resolution it just never fully blends in with the actual story: feeling more like Aronofsky is injecting his opinions & commentary on religion into the film, rather than it being an organic part of the narrative that serves to enhance it.

Nevertheless: Darren Aronofsky’s The Whale will absolutely tear audiences apart and have them weeping in this stripped back portrait of hopelessness, grief & redemption bursting at the seams with earnest emotion where a devastatingly vulnerable Brendan Fraser delivers a career-defining performance, sure to bring him much deserved accolades come awards season 2023.

FINAL GRADE: B+

NEXT: Bones and All (Venice Film Festival 2022 Review)

About The Whale

Writing instructor Charlie (Fraser) never seems to have his webcam enabled while teaching online. He makes excuses and is so good-natured that no one makes a fuss, but the real reason for his invisibility is his appearance. Charlie weighs 600 pounds.

His obesity starts to pose a grave threat to his health and his friend Liz (Hong Chau, also at this year’s Festival in The Menu), a nurse, begs him to check into a hospital, but also recognizes that it might be more important to simply offer support.

Charlie’s current status quo is upended by the return of his long-estranged adolescent daughter, Ellie (Sadie Sink), though her willingness to resume a relationship seems prompted as much by Charlie’s offers to ghostwrite her school essays as it is by her sense of familial loyalty.

Meanwhile, Charlie receives visits from a door-to-door evangelist (Ty Simpkins) who engages him in a dialogue about redemption that, despite Charlie’s lack of religious inclination, proves surprisingly resonant. Can any of these folks, regardless of their personal agendas, serve as the lifeline to self-acceptance that Charlie so urgently needs?

The Whale played at the 2022 Venice Film Festival.