The Whale Review: Brendan Fraser Is a Powerhouse Trapped in a Touching Shame Spiral

Throughout the '90s, Brendan Fraser proved to be one of the biggest leading men in Hollywood, as his early efforts showcased his acting talents with projects like School Ties and With Honors while later projects like The Mummy franchise showcased that he also had the skills necessary to be a bankable action hero. For the past two decades, he's shied away from the spotlight of stardom, much to the confusion and disappointment of his fans, with the actor personally having revealed the various physical and emotional damages he's faced over the years have seen him opt to pursue more off-the-radar projects. With The Whale, Fraser brings to life his literal biggest role to date as a man who weighs 600 pounds, as the experience reminds us just how much of an acting powerhouse Fraser continues to be after all these years, making for one of the most touching and empathetic cinematic experiences of the year.

Charlie (Fraser) lives alone in a small apartment in Idaho, suffering from all of the health challenges that come as a result of his obesity, including heart failure that could result in his death if he doesn't seek help. Reluctant to get medical assistance due to the costs, his estranged daughter Ellie (Sadie Sink) drops by to confront him about his lifestyle, offering him one last opportunity to either make things right with her or put a permanent end to their relationship.

Roger Ebert described movies as being an "empathy machine," as there's no better way to experience the lives of others than through this art form. In this regard, The Whale is immensely affecting in this regard, thanks to the tremendous talents of Fraser and his subtle and pained performance making him unimaginably relatable, as well as accolades being deserved for costars Sink, Hong Chau, and Ty Simpkins as his emotional foils.

When we first meet Charlie, he's watching pornography and masturbating, immediately setting audiences on edge to be witnessing such an intimate and "shameful" experience with a character we don't know. Immediately after, Charlie's health struggles exhibit themselves, symbolically representing how the character has gotten to a point where every single experience that might bring him joy will also cause pain and suffering. Despite these opening moments being discomforting, they highlight Charlie's embrace of behaviors that culturally bring shame yet are immensely human and vulnerable. While he was formerly married to a woman, he left her and their daughter after falling in love with one of his male student. Following the death of that partner, Charlie felt he had little to live for, with his weight and grief spiraling out of control to where we see him in the film.

The prevailing theme of the film is the ways in which shame leaves a profound impact on Charlie and how it ignites his self-imposed isolation. He feels ashamed for leaving his family, he feels ashamed for being gay, and he feels ashamed for his obesity, some of which is caused by his community and some of which only lives inside himself. Even when his nurse friend Liz (Chau) expresses her frustrations with his refusal to get medical help, Charlie can only offer a "sorry," not for the ways in which it inconveniences her, but seemingly apologizing for the fact that he's in her life at all and that he's so committed to caring so little about his own wellbeing. Every viewer has struggled with their own sense of self-worth -- or lack thereof -- in some capacity, and Fraser's performance delivers a universal conduit of empathy. We might not face the same personal, romantic, or relational struggles Charlie has, but you'd be hard-pressed to find a viewer who can't relate to something about where he finds himself, and therein lays the film's effectiveness: Fraser is an undeniably powerful empathy machine.

Fraser's absence from major Hollywood projects over the years add another element of believability to the role; we know that he hasn't found himself in the same position as Charlie, with the actor using mainly prosthetics and some VFX trickery to pull off the impressive physical transformation, but it's clear that the Fraser we're seeing in The Whale has suffered a lot of damage since we saw him battling the undead in The Mummy. Every sorrowful look at his costars, every struggle to shift his body, every piece of dialogue feels like both a physical challenge yet also a precisely delivered and effortless decision. When you're playing a character who might only live for a few more days, you choose your words and actions wisely, even if you don't have the same regard for your life as those around you do.

Fraser isn't the only performer doing compelling work in the film, as Sink's Ellie is almost the polar opposite of Charlie, having little care for anyone or anything. She's the exact foil necessary to spark any response in Charlie, even if that means countless fiery exchanges in which she only highlights the shame he should be feeling about how he handled his exit from their family. Fraser is deservedly earning immense praise for his performance, but Sink is similarly doing powerful work, and given how likeable she's proven herself to be in other projects, managing to make herself so easy to be irritated by when she's berating her father with toxic behavior.

Directed by Darren Aronofsky, the film is an adaptation of a play by the same name from Samuel D. Hunter. The director has previously delivered sprawling projects like The Fountain and Noah, though has also found inventive ways to bring more intimate stories like The Wrestler and mother! to life. For The Whale, Aronofsky embraced the tight aspect ratio of 1.33:1 to heighten the cramped quarters of Charlie's apartment and amplify his already large physique, making for an effective experience. Being inspired by a play, though, is where the film sees its struggles and setbacks, as the limited nature of the environment and the lack of physical mobility for Fraser results in a lot of unnatural or forced movements through the home. Characters sit down, walk around, and stop short in ways that don't entirely feel earned or authentically motivated, instead feeling more like they were replicating stage directions from the original production. Additionally, the dialogue also feels like it was lifted straight from the original play without any modification, offering extraneous exposition that can feel convoluted and showy as opposed to earned, resulting in a cinematic experience that largely feels more like a filmed play than one that showcases what a movie adaptation of the source material was capable of modifying to more adequately suit the medium.

Fraser is earning some of the best reviews of his career with The Whale, and they are entirely earned. Without the actor and his subtle performance, The Whale would sink, with anyone who is aware of his personal life sure to find even more to be moved by as they watch him bring to life one touching scene after another. Making the experience all the more effective are Fraser's costars, as they are all bringing out the best in each other, as the narrative dares you to be left unmoved. Aronofsky's direction leaves much to be desired, as the blocking can feel stunted and dialogue can feel artificial, but The Whale proves not only how diverse the filmmaker's skills are but also how Fraser is an unsinkable talent. 

Rating: 4 out of 5

The Whale lands in theaters on December 9th.