There’s always been a softness to Brendan Fraser—even at the height of his hunky fame, circa 1999’s The Mummy—and that quality is crucial to The Whale, where he plays a 600-pound, housebound English instructor seeking to reconnect with his estranged daughter during what might be his final days. Buried beneath copious prosthetics as Charlie—which are on full display in a stark showering scene—Fraser peers out from the fleshiness with a pleading humanity, a desire not to be seen, but to be seen. That’s what The Whale—adapted by Samuel D. Hunter from his own stage play, with Darren Aronofsky directing—is about: the right to be regarded as human, whether you’re obese or gay (Charlie is both); an abandoned, angry girl (Sadie Sink, of Stranger Things, spits fire as Charlie’s daughter); or a door-to-door proselytizer (Ty Simpkins) running from your past. (Aronofsky holds back on his usual visual audacity, delivering something that very much feels like a stage adaptation, but leans into his theological obsessions with frequent references about what it means to be “saved.”) Hong Chau also delivers a raw performance as Liz, a nurse and close friend of Charlie’s who is torn between bringing him his favorite meatball sandwich and trying to keep him alive. But the movie belongs, without question, to Fraser, whose performance relies not on pity or saintliness (Charlie has his faults as well), but a gentle, even beguiling belief in dignity for all.
(10/14/2022, as part of the Chicago International Film Festival)
