The Shape of Water
This is del Toros second straight film to smuggle a swooning, lovestruck heart beneath pulpier genre clothing (Its really a Gothic romance became something of a fan meme in response to 2015s horror-styled Crimson Peak), though this time, theres nothing arch about its romanticism: Its as pure-hearted and simple a girl-meets-Amazonian-water-creature-who-might-just-be-a-god story as any ever made.
The film announces its fairytale intentions from the outset, via the florid, characteristically comforting Richard Jenkins voiceover that bookends proceedings:
References are made to the last days of a fair princes reign, the princess without voice and the monster who tried to end it all, as the shabby contents of an ocean-flooded Baltimore apartment float in the blue like sea anemones. Its a dreamy image on which to kick off a story that never seems entirely of this world, even as were introduced to the mundane everyday routine of Elisa (Hawkins), voiceless and orphaned from infancy, who scrapes together a living as a cleaner in a top-secret government laboratory, where assorted shady experiments are conducted in a fevered spirit of anti-Russian paranoia. The year, of course, is 1962.