On the expansive art of confinement in “The Whale”

The film opens with Charlie speaking slowly with considerable strain in his voice as he peers into the lens of a web-cam not engaged. Atop his stomach sits his laptop, rising and falling as he breathes, while before his eyes are the faces of many young students in his class with his box, the English instructor box at the center of the others, in all black.

His students have been listening to Charlie speaking about writing and communicating as if clarity and honesty could be the last thing that ever mattered in life.

“And remember, like we discussed yesterday,” Charlie says, taking another long breath before continuing. “I really want you to focus on topic sentences more. Too many of you are rushing into examples in your body paragraph. It would be good for everyone to review the paragraph structure PDF I sent you a few weeks ago. I know these rules can feel constraining. But remember, the point of this course is to learn how to write clearly and persuasively. That’s how you can effectively communicate your ideas.”

Suddenly there’s a chime in the class. One of the students has sent a message to the entire class by mistake. The young man is smiling nervously in his respective box on the web cam, while other students are giggling to themselves.

A stand-in is one who works alongside some of the most important people on set. And once stand-ins do their job, there they go, walking away right when the shooting begins, only to have set-up and prepared everything for the star to take it from there.

Charlie reads the message sent by mistake.

“And yes, the camera on my laptop still doesn’t work. Believe me, your not missing much,” he laughs to himself. “Oh, and for those who have not given me paper three, I need it by Wednesday, no exceptions. And remember: the more you revise these essays the better. The more you change, the chances are the more you will express your thoughts and ideas more clearly and persuasively.”

With his final words, Charlie shuts his laptop. After the title of the film appears on the screen, we see him for the first time where we will see him for the entirety of the film:

Charlie, a 600 pound man, is sitting alone on his couch in his two bedroom apartment somewhere in Idaho. It is day, but so many curtains and shades block out the daylight it might as well be night. Almost too large to fit on his couch at the center of his living room, his legs are kicked up in front of him on an ottoman. His face is sweaty; his clothes appear greasy, unwashed, and after only a few seconds of taking all of this in during the opening of the film an incredible weight enters our chest. We begin to feel uncomfortable, as if already desiring a means to escape this sad man’s existence. This feeling, not so different than accidentally listening in or getting too intimate with someone you hardly know, is an uncomfortable one. It’s effect pushes us to squirm. Except we are here; we are watching a film. And the camera, shot by Darren Aronofsky and aimed at Brendan Frasier, does not cut to a new scene. We remain in the living room. We remain in the same place, like a fly on the wall, as a morbidly obese and sickly man, sits alone on his couch where he will be for the remainder of the 1 hr 57 minute run time of The Whale (2022).

Still, it is Monday. Having finished teaching his online class, Charlie leans back on his couch. He types something into his laptop. An adult video of two men appears on his screen. He begins touching himself. A moment later, Charlie is shrieking in pain. Leaning forward, he grabs his heart and experiences a mild-stroke. Waiting for the pain to subside, right on cue a missionary comes to his door unannounced and enters.

“Please, please read this essay!” Charlie says, handing a page to the young man still holding his chest.

The missionary takes the essay and looks down at it confused. “In the amazing book Moby Dick by the author Herman Melville, the author recounts his story of being at sea. In the first part of his book, the author, calling himself Ishmael, is in a small sea-side town and he is sharing a bed with a man named Queequeg.”

Charlie, listening intently, feels the pain in his chest subside. So taken by the words of the essay, we watch as his eyes drift somewhere far away in some other place that only he knows and understands.

At this moment, the film’s running time is only 10 minutes. And already we get a great hint that this look Charlie is making — this great distance in his eyes that the essay produces — is likely the self-same place he longs for and what has kept him locked up in his small life in his small apartment so long. We don’t quite understand any of this yet, but it appears as a hint at some emotional complexity that could get to the heart of things.

Behind the golden couch where Charlie sits are three tall book shelves adorned with literary works. In the opposite corner is a kitchen and a refrigerator. While further down the couch are empty pizza boxes and other traces of food delivered and eaten. Somehow, looking so unflinchingly at this solitary man’s life, we get the idea that we understand his inner world and his emotional state a little more. And not because of the action or a great deal of scenes with dialogue — but because we are given enough clues between the character and his surroundings to understand that the apartment is but a symbol of his emotional reality. In essence, his reality and the things which surround him, are composed of both his inner and external truth.

As the scene plays out and the missionary continues trying to help Charlie, we expect the story to move on and develop further into more dynamic areas. We expect this, and not just because we are conditioned by other films which are structured in this way, but because we almost crave the escape. Yet again, we are not given it. Rather than the conflict and story developing through action of the protagonist, instead we have a protagonist that has stopped living his life. This mild-heart attack is a sign of a grave medical condition that will kill him in days if he does not go to the hospital. But he will not go. He has become stagnant and passive in his life. To act on something would go against his character. He is waiting for something and avoiding something. He is stuck but we do not quite know from what exactly.

With the limitations of setting and characters, on paper this story appears to go no where. We have a character that has given up on life. He eats to deal with it. And yet, despite the lack of variety in place and a short list of actors, why is it that this film is one of the most emotionally rich films of 2022? How is it that such a film made it impossible for many people alike to not break down in tears at the film’s climactic ending?

The answer lies in the power of confinement.

It’s the same intimate contact one gets in literature or theater, rarely experienced in cinema. When a protagonist is holding so much inside for which he cannot confront. So much so this character is unable to go on living his life and instead seeks the most self-destructive behavior to turn away from it. And having been forced, for two hours, to sit with such a wounded person — sit and suffer and feel such isolation and such sadness for the duration of a film — so much and yet the whole time this character never feeling sorry for himself once, we are left with a cathartic story that reminds us of how beautiful humanity can be. A story how one can sacrifice oneself in an effort to put another in a better place. And this is as far as I will go in explaining — as if you have not seen this film I will not give anymore away.

At any rate, if there is a film that shows us the power of limitation in film making, this film can give us all a masterclass on how truly powerful restrictions can be. When you have one set and few characters and exchanges — then this one set must serve multiple purposes in both the story telling and the projection of the inner-world of the character. In other words, boundless feeling and emotion does not come from big and powerful sets with unlimited budgets. The richest source of emotion comes from the inner-world. And what better way to enter into it than to stare into the straining, sickly heart of a man who loved so much but did not have the strength to confront his own problems, for his sensitivities got the best of him and he could not climb over them to move on.

Hoping that this has not scared you off from seeing this masterpiece — please watch The Whale if you have not seen it. It’s the kind of film that leaves you with the greatest sense of love and hope for humanity, and we can always use a bit more of that. — The Whale is now streaming on Showtime.

Watch the trailer of “The Whale”