The
world is not round. I know it isn’t flat, but it definitely isn’t
round. To claim it is round would assume there is a symmetry, a total
balance of our beloved planet, peacefully and methodically plodding
through time and space. If there were a perfect balance, there would be no tides, no ebb and flow, a perfect understanding of beauty and harmony. I know the world is really out of
balance, however, because the film “The Shape of Water” has been nominated
for 13 – let me spell that – thirteen – Academy Awards. There
is definitely something wrong with our slowly spinning, normally
predictable planet. It must have one hell of a wobble.
I
understand that I may be the one who is out of balance here, because I just spent nine dollars and ninety-five cents – senior discount –
to sit through what I consider to be the most ludicrous, offensive, and downright stupid films I have ever seen. I
put “Mars Attacks” on a pedestal compared to this awful film that has
been elevated to God-like cult status with its prestigious award. At least Mars Attacks was fun
to watch. The Shape of Water's dance scene with the creature from the black lagoon - seriously. I’m not joking - doing a Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers Felliniesque dream sequence, failed to elevate
the film above the murky, tannin-colored realm of despair. They didn't even come close to the aliens bowling on Easter Island.
The
standard Hollywood formula of oil company bad, government agent bad,
everybody bad except the maligned hero/heroine and his/her mentor,
was spiced with a dash of, believe it or not, a Soviet spy with a
heart of gold. The pathetic mentor, according to formula, has to be convinced
the hero/heroine can save humanity and together, along with a
co-worker – black, of course – and the good Soviet agent – he’s
really a doctor – defeat the forces of evil wearing the red, white,
and blue. Ad Nauseam.
It
wears thin in less time than it takes to get the lid off the popcorn
bucket. The acting is well done, as if they know they won’t get
paid if the audience laughs out loud during the scenes where the
creature plays with the owner’s remaining cats just after it’s
eaten the head off one of them. Funny stuff, but even here Mars Attacks did it
better.
Like
sex scenes? There are several solo episodes by the heroine to
establish the fact she’s in dire need of fulfillment, and surprise,
surprise, our finned creature rises to the occasion. I can imagine
the excitement when they discovered they could wire the old lagoon
creature’s costume with LEDs to glow with the enthusiasm required
for such an event.
And
healing powers? Wow! Another opportunity to fire up the power pack!
For a primordial omnivore, even the convoluted Soviet agent bad
guy/good guy could have used the “asset” if only his timing had
been better. I have a problem with films that portray the old Soviets
as the good guys and the Americans as mean-spirited evil doers,
regardless of whose aquarium they’re trying to drain.
Time
to dig out the old Slim Whitman soundtrack. Indian Love Song never
sounded better.
George
George
