The Whale film review — Brendan Fraser holds together a dislikeable drama

The camera is off at the start of The Whale, the dislikeable new film from Darren Aronofsky. The scene is an English class, taught on Zoom; but the tutor Charlie claims his laptop is faulty. Don’t worry. Aronofsky has no intention of keeping us in the dark. Lesson over, Charlie duly appears: actor Brendan Fraser in an award-winner of a fat suit. His size is meant to make us reel, a grandstand vision of morbid obesity.

Charlie is now enjoying gay porn, or trying to. His scale makes it tricky. The tone of the scene is iffier even than it sounds. The same is true of the whole film: a supposed meditation on emotional pain, made to gawk at.

Right before the tutorial, we get a brief establishing shot: semi-rural Idaho. The rest takes place entirely in Charlie’s drab, sad apartment. In lieu of the outside world, his weight is used as multifunctional dramatic device. With a failing heart, the physical peril of his bulk is framed as ticking clock. It also sets up a deeper question. As we watch Charlie binge eat, self-loathing has clearly become a death wish. “I’m sorry,” he says, repeatedly. But for what, we are primed to ask.

The apologies are given to supporting characters. Acerbic best friend Liz (Hong Chau) serves as dispenser of back-story. Thomas (Ty Simpkins) is a door-knocking evangelical who claims not to judge Charlie’s sexuality, but spies a need for salvation. “I really think God sent me here for a reason,” he says. He can also thank writer Samuel D Hunter, adapting his own stage play, winks to Moby-Dick and all.

A glimmer of a saving grace arrives with Elle (Sadie Sink), a glowering teen we might take for a niece. In fact, she is Charlie’s long-estranged daughter, choosing now to re-enter his life. Her timing is narratively expedient, but her fury raw enough to give the film a jolt. Desperate to connect, Charlie offers to help with her English homework. Not offers, begs. “I can pay you!” he pleads, and for a moment, the pathos cuts through.

But Aronofsky is all wrong for the material. (As co-producer, he gave himself the job.) You can feel him aiming to replicate The Wrestler, his soulful 2008 tale of doomed bodies starring another veteran lead, Mickey Rourke. But the new movie ends echoing more typical projects such as Black Swan or Mother! — cold and glib. The film needs empathy for Charlie to have a genuine reason for being. But Aronofsky sees his characters the way certain children look at spiders. Which leg first?

The film has been sold as Fraser’s comeback story. On screen, his actorly zeal holds the thing together, although anyone unable to vote in the Oscars may feel they are the secondary audience. The performance is fine. It’s The Whale that’s the problem: a film that gets smaller the longer you think about it.

★★☆☆☆

In UK cinemas from February 3 and in US cinemas now