Darren Aronofsky’s The Whale
Based on the play by Samuel D. Hunter
Spoiler Alert: If you haven't seen the movie this review reveals the plot.
Friends who saw The Whale cautioned about its stark depictions of morbid obesity and human suffering. But the unprecedented six-minute standing ovation Brendan Fraser received at the Venice International Film Festival piqued my curiosity. I’ve sensed the depth of Fraser’s talent winking from behind the limitations of many of the roles he’s been offered in the past. The portrayal of Charlie required his spirit to consistently outshine the physical extremes of morbid obesity. Fraser surrenders to the role body and soul, enabling the character's spirit to shine through. The incomparable Samantha Morton portrays Charlie’s complicated ex-wife, shifting convincingly between rejection and embrace in a matter of minutes. Hong Chau’s emotional performance adds layers of intricate nuance to an already complex narrative.
"Charlie’s story may not seem like a hero’s journey."
At first glance, Charlie’s story may not seem like a hero’s journey. He is grappling with who he is by trying to understand how he affects those in his life. As heroes of our own stories — what other journey is there? In Charlie’s back story, he had a socially acceptable life as an English teacher, with a wife and daughter. Then he fell in love with a male student in an adult class he taught. Charlie eventually left his wife to be with Alan. Their love came at a price. Charlie was cut off from his child. Alan committed suicide. We meet Charlie nine years after he left his family. Wracked with shame, grief, and loneliness, Charlie isolates in his apartment. He teaches on-line with his camera off, effectively hiding from almost everyone. He lets in Liz, his friend and nurse, portrayed by Hong Chau.
Liz is the only one watching over Charlie as his health rapidly declines. Though aggravated that Charlie won’t deal with his health issues, Liz remains devoted to him. In exasperation, she threatens to stab him if he doesn’t do as she says. Charlie admonishes her ironically. He reminds her his internal organs are at least two feet in. A knife couldn’t reach them. She tickles him playfully in response. Yet the strain wears on her as Charlie’s death becomes imminent. When Charlie chokes on a sandwich, her tiny physique can barely position his 600-pound body in order to successfullly dislodge the food. Liz’s spirit is large, though. She manages to be there for him, despite her inability to save this man she deeply loves. She doesn’t know how to save him. No one does.
Charlie’s physical condition demands attention. He clutches his chest. He wheezes. He sweats. He pants. He groans when struggling to rise. He relinquishes all control and plops down in order to sit. When he does an on-line search of his vital signs it screams in capital letters: CALL 911! Charlie slams his laptop shut, ignoring the warning.
The urgency does drive him to reach out to the one thing that matters most: Charlie summons his 17-year-old daughter, Ellie. After being absent from her life for nine years, Ellie is no fan of her father. He bribes her to get her to visit. He knows his morbid obesity is straining his heart beyond its capacity — his physical heart, that is. But Charlie’s emotional heart grows stronger as we look on. He is present to other people’s pain and softly offers, “I’m sorry.” He's present to his own emotional pain. He doesn’t let it stop him from reaching out to the few who do come into his world.
Charlie’s love for Ellie is palpable. He is taken with her intelligence and frankness. He discovers three sentences she has written in a notebook — all stinging condemnations of him. Yet he takes sheer joy in reading these biting words when he realizes they’re written in the form of a haiku. Although the behavior of a child in the throes of the terrible twos can be stressful, it doesn’t cause their parents to stop loving them. Usually, parents dismiss and forget the tantrums because they know they don’t mean anything. Charlie muses at Ellie’s behavior because he doesn’t buy in to the form it takes. It’s not just Ellie’s acting out, but everyone’s antagonistic behavior that becomes as inconsequential to Charlie as a toddler throwing a fit. In light of what Charlie’s facing, difficult behavior becomes mere antics, signifying nothing. What gets Charlie’s attention now is the profound compassion he witnesses all around him.
“Do you ever get the feeling that people are incapable of not caring? People are amazing!”
A door-to-door missionary gains access to Charlie accidentally. Thomas, portrayed by Ty Simpkins, tries his best to “save” Charlie to no avail. When Ellie meets Thomas, she is sarcastic and mean-spirited. She tricks him into confessing he's in trouble. Having run away from his family, Thomas stole money from the mission there. He is scared, afraid to go home. Ellie records his words and gets the recording to his family. Relieved at finding Thomas alive, they welcome their prodigal son with open arms. Charlie sees that the intention behind Ellie’s deception was actually meant to help. Thomas finds his way home again.
Charlie is surprised by a visit from Ellie’s mother, Mary, portrayed by Samantha Morton. She begins the visit screaming and yelling at him. Within minutes, she’s cuddling him, crying, and talking to him tenderly. She reveals that she saw Charlie's lover just before his suicide. He was in the grocery store parking lot. Alan looked bad, emaciated and frail from not eating. Mary knew he was the man behind her husband’s abandonment of her. Yet she had compassion as she watched him struggling to put groceries in his car. She went to him. She helped him without ever telling him who she was.
A tear-soaked Charlie confesses to Liz, “Do you ever get the feeling that people are incapable of not caring? People are amazing!” Consider that all human interaction is either an expression of love or a cry for love. From this perspective, the only response is love. As he approaches death, Charlie grows less and less concerned with what people think of him. He focuses instead on witnessing the core essence of others, this wellspring of compassion and love. This new focus expands his capacity for giving and receiving love.
"We are all in disguise, some more distressing than others."
None of us appears perfect in our behavior. We hide our essential love within, blocking it from shining through. We create a persona, an identity, and feed it stories. We weave an elaborate cloth — a before and after, a here and there, a now and then, a greater than and lesser than — and then posture, trying to be perfect in a world we made up in our mind that morphs and shifts, disappearing when we die.
It’s been said Mother Theresa dealt with suffering by seeing others as the Christ — as Divine Love — in all its distressing disguises. We are all in disguise, some more distressing than others. The difference is brought about only by situation and circumstance, which are passing. We grow so accustomed to these disguises we think it’s who we really are. Looking through our filters, we see only the masks of others. But we can choose what we focus on. That focus becomes our experience.
All of us express love at times, and, at other times cry out for love. This is the human condition. But the human condition is not who we are at our core where our essence resides. The still, small voice within reminds us if we listen. At the end of the film, Charlie calls out to Ellie as she flees. We get a glimpse of the little girl he’s been trying to reach when she answers, “Daddy, please!” Then Charlie is able to go to Ellie — the thing she demanded on her first visit that he was unable to do. He rises and goes to her on his own two feet. Ellie turns and moves toward him. In their meeting this way we see a flashback to happy times together at the beach. There's a sense of lightness and ease. We see Charlie’s feet in the tide as the water laps gently around them. Then we see Charlie’s feet as they appear in his obesity, lifting off the ground — light as a feather — as he ascends. As Charlie sees the light that shines through others, his own light bursts forth, freeing him from suffering. His release does not come from being a perfect human being. Charlie’s release comes when inner light shines through the human disguise.
Comments