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Before going in, I talked to some colleagues milling about, including a couple of fellow Aronofsky skeptics.
And explode it did as soon as the end credits started rolling.
The audience response toThe Whale, and Fraser, was immediate and immense and sustained.They wouldnt let him leave.
He kept taking bows and bows.
It was the kind of total love-in one lives to see at festivals like this.
It felt well deserved.
(The films sometimes were jokes, but not him.)
He could and should go to the hospital, but he refuses, citing a lack of health insurance.
Charlie seems almost ready to die.
He talks about pain in a matter-of-fact fashion.
Charlie, we sense, is always in pain.
But heres the thing: The film is built around the idea of revulsion and extreme consumption.
It has multiple scenes of Charlie eating enormous amounts of food.
He stress-eats candy bars when he Googles details about his medical condition.
The idea is that this man is killing himself.
The food isnt so much food as it is a metaphor for all the hurt and pain hes absorbed.
The whole thing is a metaphor, and as such, its pitched a few degrees off from reality.
Is Charlie presented as pathetic?
He seems open, kind, curious and shy.
Prosthetic or no, its a perfect part for Fraser.
Its hard to imagine anyone else in the part, frankly.
(Remember that essay onMoby-Dick?)
Indeed, Charlie has basically been eating himself to death since then.
Dark comedy juts against deep emotion, languor bumps against speed.
Characters give speeches about religion, and they deliver blunt passages of exposition that can feel awkward.
It all feels, initially, like a mistake.
Once everything finally collides inThe Whale, something shattering and beautiful and honest emerges.
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