The Shape of Water - Script Discussion
in Movies ·
neonsurfer6
So, a question from a user on another thread about The Happening got my gears turning, even if it’s nothing like the first topic. I'm just gonna dump two different texts right here. The core question is basically: what exactly does The Shape of Water have going for it that makes it so special? Why would anyone even be obsessed with it? I dug up two old pieces I wrote—they were written at different times with slightly different angles on my take of LiTW. I didn't bother translating them because they were originally meant for some international film sites, so they're already in English. Here goes nothing.
Both parts won't fit in one post, so I'm splitting this into two. If the mod thinks this actually belongs in the LiTW thread, then go ahead and move it.
First.
neonsurfer6
neonsurfer6 said:Sorry for going off-topic here, but what actually fascinates you about this movie? Look, I get that it could’ve been intriguing, but it’s just painfully unconvincing. It feels amateurish. To me, it looks like M. Night Shyamalan just filmed a rough sketch instead of an actual, fleshed-out script.
So, a question from a user on another thread about The Happening got my gears turning, even if it’s nothing like the first topic. I'm just gonna dump two different texts right here. The core question is basically: what exactly does The Shape of Water have going for it that makes it so special? Why would anyone even be obsessed with it? I dug up two old pieces I wrote—they were written at different times with slightly different angles on my take of LiTW. I didn't bother translating them because they were originally meant for some international film sites, so they're already in English. Here goes nothing.
Both parts won't fit in one post, so I'm splitting this into two. If the mod thinks this actually belongs in the LiTW thread, then go ahead and move it.
First.
neonsurfer6
| Every single frame, every scrap of dialogue, every title, every name, every shape, and every act actually serves a specific purpose in this flick. I'll try writing in short lines The general of this movie. Look, let’s be real—you probably loved the score in this flick. Honestly, I can't imagine anyone not loving it. The Main theme is more or less God's Intervention through James Newton Howard's talent. The Music was Dona with special Care and , Just like in Village, it was built to hit those deep, spiritual chords inside us—stuff that goes way beyond ourselves. If you couldn't connect with the music, even after catching it on the big screen in a theater, then you've got a serious problem on your hands. But hey, I guess we'll figure a way to deal with that. The opening was built specifically to lay down the groundwork for a heavy plot, making sure all those core themes and big ideas could breathe during the actual movie without getting bogged down by unnecessary backstory. It’s basically an invitation to pull you right into the concept. Look, sometimes a narrated intro feels totally pointless—think about how much of a mess *Push* was back in '09—but here, it was absolutely vital. Everything in the beginning is told through symbols. That’s the whole point. Since M. Night Shyamalan is a total symbolist, symbols and symbolism are the backbone of almost everything he touches. The intro kicks off with "once," just like any old-school fairy tale. Basically, he’s framing this as a legend you'd pass down to your kids. He's showing us exactly what kind of story we're stepping into so that once he drags the setting into the modern day, we aren't left wandering around confused. We know the rules, we know the vibe, and we can actually pay attention to what's really happening. Tales are the foundational pillar of LiTW. Look, every single tale, no matter how it’s wrapped up, carries a payload of messages, ethics, core values, and basic wisdom. Once you wrap your head around the fact that M. Night Shyamalan is using a tale set in the modern world to communicate with you, you can immediately deduce his angle. He’s pointing at something specific. He has a message, and what you’re seeing on screen isn't the full picture. No tale is ever just "just a story." Every single one is packed with layers of subtext waiting to be decoded, offering that kind of old-school wisdom—the kind of stuff men actually ought to be paying attention to. There’s a massive clue right in the intro when the narrator drops that line about how men don't listen very well. That’s the crux of it. It’s been a fundamental flaw in humanity since the dawn of time, a concept explored in everything from the Bible to modern sociology, and honestly, it’s still the biggest issue we face in America today. Men don't pay attention, men don't listen, and frankly, men just don't care. Biologically speaking, life kicked off in the ocean. If we drop the whole "mystery of the deep" obsession for a second, that fact alone tells us exactly where things started. But this symbol isn't about a GPS coordinate; it’s about perspective. It’s about where we need to aim our eyes to actually "see" what nature is throwing at us—so we can finally realize that human progress is, ironically, Decadent. This chunk of the flick basically tackles how clueless we are, much like how Baudelaire’s poem *Correspondences* hits (http://fleursdumal.org/poem/103). Plot-wise, the sirens (Narfs) are just the ones who stayed in the water—the ones in sync with nature, who didn't alienate themselves or trigger their own extinction. To wrap your head around this, you have to accept that in this universe, no matter how you slice it, there are two types of forces: constructive (the good stuff) and destructive (the bad stuff). Just like in any story or in real life, these two are totally tangled together. The second massive issue, and the heavy hitter in the intro, is "man's need to own everything." Translation? He’s talking about straight-up selfishness and human greed. If you look at how people actually act, you can see that almost every motive boils down to how sensitive our own ego is—even love. Since we could talk about this forever, I'll just stick to what matters for the movie. The bottom line is we drifted away from nature because of one fatal flaw: selfishness. And that’s what’s going to kill us. Let’s be real, we all see it happening in the US right now. Wars aren't fought for human rights; they're fought for interests. Corporations prioritize profits over people or animals, forests get razed just to squeeze out more commercial real estate, and people get iced in the streets over nothing. Everything is messed up, and it all comes down to A) apathy and ignoring the signs, and B) pure greed. The reason these nature-connected characters exist is to highlight the gap between them and us. They represent an ideal version of humanity, whereas we're basically just corrupted spawns. You can't find guidance from something corrupted; you need someone as pure as a Narf to nudge you along, kind of like how you need a mentor when you're starting a new job or hitting the books. If you're struggling to connect with the idea of a Narf, just think of them as a symbol for your own conscience rather than some weird sea creature. Whether you call it Narf, nature, or your conscience, the story shows they're trying to reach you, even though there are tons of hurdles in the way. You can interpret any part of this story in a dozen ways, but they all circle back to the same core themes. Using the conscience analogy, it's easy to see that Scrunt is that tiny bit of evil inside us—that Freudian concept—but it could also be anything that tests you or stops you from seeing the truth (kind of like how Plato talks about the Allegory of the Cave). Most of this setup is packed into the beginning. Those first two minutes are huge because they lay out the fundamental conflict. The rest of the movie is just an exploration and debate of that problem, all aimed at one thing: giving people hope. ------------------------- Going through every single detail would take forever, and honestly, it's better if you figure it out yourself once you've got the basics down. So, just like before, I'm skipping the deep dive to keep things relevant. The characters in The Shape of Water all have a few things in common: 1. They're regular folks living ordinary lives dropped into an extraordinary situation. 2. They're all stuck in the same spot, trapped in their own little bubble, and feeling stagnant. 3. They're haunted by their past or their present, and they've lost their drive. Look, all these folks just plain need some hope. It’s the big one. Most important thing, really. Another massive factor right there. Here’s the deal: picture this. Someone you love more than anything is facing a terminal diagnosis. You eventually hit that wall where you realize everything is slipping away and there isn't a damn thing you can do to stop it. You can take that feeling and apply it to pretty much anything—your job, your neighborhood, whatever. Most people walking around America these days are stuck in this mindset, especially regarding the state of the world. They honestly believe everything is just spiraling toward total chaos and we're all just helpless bystanders watching the wreck. That’s the core issue M. Night Shyamalan is digging into here. His big takeaway? It doesn't have to end that way. So, look. Your person is fading. There’s zero recourse. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, someone shows up and hands you a way to pull them back from the brink. Are you actually going to take the leap and believe them? Or are you just going to sit there? Look, as a fable, it’s a total symbol, but it hits all these guys in The Shape of Water the exact same way: this weird-ass Story just shows up and messes with their heads. Everyone else living around there senses something is shifting—something totally "out of this world"—and it gives them a reason to keep moving. It wakes them up. It makes them actually believe there might be some kind of purpose or hope out there. Sure, maybe M. Night Shyamalan could've gone the route of piling on tragic characters and dropping them into, I don't know, a war zone or some heavy-duty drama (kind of like how Spielberg handled things in Saving Private Ryan, or a movie with vibes similar to LiTW). But he didn't. He built this super grounded, modern setting for Unbreakable, so it's pretty damn obvious he meant to make us feel that spark of inspiring fantasy right in the middle of this broken world. At the end of the day, we all want the fantasy to be real. We all lean on our imaginations, and we're all out here searching for a better world through those fantasies. Look, notice how the heavy hitters always carry the biggest burdens or face the nastiest obstacles. If you’re actually paying attention, you’ll see that whenever they get close to the Story, they feel this warmth, or a sharp piercing sensation, or just pure peace. That "peace" is basically that feeling you get when everything is clicking, when you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to do, and you feel good about it. It’s the total opposite of that gut-wrenching anxiety or that crushing weight of oppression. This whole symbol of "peace/warmth/piercing" is essentially our purpose. Every single character matters equally once the plot starts unfolding. You pull one out, and the whole machine breaks; we’re all tied together in this massive chain of cause and effect. This concept gets picked apart, debated, and studied philosophically in games like Chrono Cross. So, what’s the bottom line? M. Night Shyamalan is throwing three specific messages at us here: Every single one of us is here for a reason. We all have a purpose. We’re all just one big "I." Every single one of us carries the exact same weight. No exceptions. Look, any one of us could actually change things. Seriously. It's just that half the time, we're all just standing around because we have zero clue where to even begin. Point number three is huge. Basically, The Shape of Water starts from this core idea that humans are fundamentally good, not evil—that we’re built to be giving rather than selfish. So, where does the symbolism actually kick in? Everyone’s got a purpose—like, every single character plays a part they can't dodge. If we actually recognize where we fit in, we can step up for the people around us. Even just some regular guy stuck in a cramped studio apartment with his sister. We all have roles, sure, but they aren't all the same. If we want to actually change things, we need to start listening, really hearing people, and using some basic common sense. It's about being conscious. You make the world better by doing something impactful—like writing a book that shifts how other people act, triggering a massive chain reaction. Think about someone like Karl Marx; he changed everything, even if the fallout was messy. But nothing happens without a push, a motive, or some serious inspiration—you need a Story. That’s when the laws of nature—or karma, whatever you want to call it—finally hands "the chosen one" a shot at greatness. It’s a classic trope, but it's real life. Basically, M. Night Shyamalan is telling you: "Yeah, it could be you!" In The Shape of Water, the Narf finally manages to make contact, but suddenly everything shifts—this connection needs protection at all costs, which turns into the whole driving force for the movie's final act. You've got this creature that basically offers salvation to humanity, so everyone is scrambling to play by the rules of this mysterious, supernatural realm just to ensure their own world stays intact and meaningful. Having something supernatural right there in front of them gives them a sudden sense of purpose. It’s funny because M. Night Shyamalan keeps hitting this same nerve regarding "finding your place in the world," like he did in Signs and Unbreakable. It’s clearly a massive obsession of his. It reminds me of how Stephen King talks about his own struggles; he’s said before that his biggest fear is losing his creative spark, leaving his characters drifting without a soul. Here’s the gist of the theories floating around out there... If you look at him casting himself as the "chosen one" destined to save the world, you basically end up reacting to M. Night Shyamalan in one of four ways. Honestly, it just comes down to who you are and how you see things: 1) He just wanted the spotlight to boost his own ego. It’s his flick, so leave him alone. Tarantino pulls the same kind of stunts. 2) He thinks he’s some kind of visionary genius, so he’s feeding his ego by centering himself in his own stories. 3) He’s trying to prove that anyone can step up by physically embedding himself in the work. (Kind of like taking ownership of what you create.) 4) He knew exactly how much this would polarize people and did it specifically to get a rise out of them. Regarding option 4)... that might actually be onto something. Besides sticking himself in there, he threw a film critic into the mix just to poke fun at them. He even basically predicted how the big-shot critics would tear the movie apart, and he likely refused to change a single frame because of it. To top it off, he kills the critic off—which honestly feels like a pretty savage way to give them his two cents. One critic claimed it was just a pathetic attempt to shield himself from the fact that he made a dud, but I don't buy it. There's no way M. Night Shyamalan can't tell when a movie is slipping or predict a bad review, yet somehow he "can't" fix the movie to make it better? Please. Not a convincing argument. People might hate me for saying this, but the guy is actually pretty witty. While we're digging into this, there's another weird pattern you should probably look at: Aside from The Sixth Sense, which was obviously a massive cash cow, movies like Unbreakable, Signs, Village and The Shape of Water are these sci-fi philosophical pieces where Shyamalan pushes themes of hope, purpose, love, and faith. They're generally positive flicks with happy endings. And in all of them—he shows up. After The Shape of Water, which serves as the peak of his philosophy and a story where humanity actually gets saved, he pivoted to that bleak, soul-crushing The Happening where he basically sentences mankind to extinction—and he stays completely out of it. Also, notice how in The Shape of Water, nature is benevolent and a friend to us, whereas in The Happening, nature is actively hostile toward humans, embodied by that unhinged Mrs. Jones in the latter half. Something to chew on. |