The Whale

Brendan Fraser delivers a career-best performance, but unfortunately Darren Aronofsky's latest film reaches for tears that it doesn't earn

“A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.”

― John Barrymore

I don’t know if I believe people when they say they don’t have any regrets in life. Shouting the phrase “No Regrets!” as if it’s Carpe Diem/YOLO philosophy might be a motivational way to tackle a new challenge, but we all have things we wish we did differently. Actions we wish we had not taken. Things we wish we had not said.

Most of us have hurt other people at some point in our lives. Researcher Brené Brown says, “I’ve grown to learn regret is a fair but tough teacher. Regret is a function of empathy. So when people say, ‘I have no regrets’ I think that seems dangerous to me.”

Basically: if you never have regrets, you probably aren’t being introspective.

In director Darren Aronofsky’s latest film, “The Whale,” released by indie powerhouse A24, we examine a severely obese man full of regret, rapidly eating himself to death. Brendan Fraser, wearing masterful prosthetics, plays Charlie, a professor who can barely walk or breathe, relying on Liz, a nurse played by Hong Chau, to take care of him in his home.

Charlie has been reclusive for years, haunted by the death of his male lover, a former student for whom he walked out on his wife and then 8-year-old daughter. Not to spoil the reason, but Charlie feels responsible for his death.

Charlie reconnects with his 16-year-old daughter Ellie, played by Sadie Sink, of “Stranger Things” fame, and he explains to her how much he regrets leaving his family and begs for a chance for redemption as he knows his end time is near. He offers her money if she’ll just hang out with him.

Charlie has so many regrets and he just wants to know his daughter will be OK.

“I need to know I have done one thing right in my life!” Charlie wails as he argues with Ellie’s mother, played by Samantha Morton.

Fraser delivers a beautifully poignant portrait of guilt and pain. He shouts about how disgusting he is, literally turning himself on the outside how he feels about himself on the inside. He’ll surely deserve an Oscar nomination in 2023 and — from what I’ve read elsewhere — could be a popular choice to win. He anchors this film and, frankly, elevates it. His earnest sadness is the best part of a movie that, otherwise, doesn’t have much else going for it.

I wish other characters were written with the same depth as Charlie. Sadie Sink’s Ellie is mostly a moody teenager full of rage. Although she has legitimate reasons to be upset, we never really get to see another side of her. Ty Simpkins plays a religious missionary in a painfully weak subplot that makes me wince every time he’s on screen. He serves as an excuse for Charlie to muse on religion, which is fine, but there’s a plot twist involving the missionary that makes you groan and is a serious distraction.

The entire movie builds to a climax that lets the audience down, trying to ring unearned tears. It shouts themes out rather than trusting the audience to pick up on them organically. Samuel D. Hunter, who wrote the screenplay and the play its based on, struggles to translate his work from stage to screen and the final shots of the movie might make you cringe. (There was a legitimate eye roll from me).

I wanted to love this movie. I really did. At its heart is a character and performance that many — no matter the size — can relate to, haunted by regret and fear. But we don’t really see him, or any character, go on much of a journey. There’s no real redemption. There are characters you feel sorry for, but nobody you really love or truly hate.

There’s no lesson to be learned, except, maybe try to make amends before it’s too late. Charlie shouting that he’s sorry to his daughter for leaving, but offering to give her money as a form of apology isn’t really enough to help Ellie heal from nearly a decade of parental abandonment. We’re supposed to feel sorry for Charlie for being obese — and we do to a certain degree — but a scene where he binges pizza while covering it in ranch dressing, portrays self-destructive behavior that removes any empathy. Characters constantly remind him that his weight is his choice and he never disagrees with them.

Aronofsky, who previously helmed films like “Requiem for a Dream” and “The Wrestler,” has experience showing damaged characters full of regret, punishing their bodies with addictive, destructive behaviors. But this time it almost makes the audience uncomfortable to use extreme weight gain as the vehicle for pity. For many people, obesity isn’t a choice. It’s sad and can be unhealthy, but there’s no moral failing in their body size. The camera work in “The Whale,” lingering on the most unflattering shots to make Charlie look repulsive, often flirts with fat-shaming.

Combined with the fact that Aronofsky couldn’t find a larger actor (one that required fewer prosthetics) to play the lead role, you can understand who some would think “The Whale” trades in fatphobia. (That being said, Fraser was so good in the role that it really weakens that casting criticism.)

There’s a lot I really didn’t like about “The Whale” but Fraser’s performance is so captivating that it brings this up to a 3-out-of-5 rating for movie. Worth a watch just to see him, but far from Best Picture material.