Charlie is going to die. It’s going to happen soon, perhaps by the weekend. He weighs as much as 600 pounds (who knows how much, really?) and refuses to see a doctor. His diastolic blood pressure would be a good score for a pro bowler. You don’t want a pro bowler diastolic; at that point, the end is near.
Charlie wasn’t always morbidly obese. This is a combination of several factors, but mostly depression. Happiness has been an elusive concept for him. Years ago, he left his wife and daughter for a man. That man died. That man’s sister, Liz (Hong Chau), is now the only other person who sees Charlie (Brendan Fraser) on a regular basis. She shows up several times a week to deliver meatball subs and save his life temporarily. Charlie’s girth has its own zip code. It is a struggle to get Charlie off the couch, not that he ever wants to go anywhere besides the bathroom. He lives on the second floor; one wonders when was the last time he ever climbed the stairs.
And it’s not just that Charlie is going to die; Charlie has somberly invited death. The only thing he wants out of his remaining days is a better relationship with his teenage daughter. Ellie (Sadie Sink) is scornful, kinda mean, and hurt that Charlie hasn’t made a greater effort to see her; this isn’t going to be an easy sell.
The one remaining tie Charlie has to life outside his apartment is a zoom class on writing he teaches at the local community college. Even there, Charlie has grown highly cynical of the work; I suppose there’s only so many essays you can read about hot Romeo is before none of it matters. Charlie has attached himself to an amateur essay on Moby Dick as some sort of security blanket. Why this paper? Why does it hold so much more meaning for him than, say, his favorite poem, magazine article, or the novel of Moby Dick itself? Does he see himself as The Whale? Is this something we want to encourage or discourage?
In the United States, the obese have been marginalized for generations. Our culture has spent decades, literally, justifying bias against overweight people. The more obese the individual, the easier the bias. Whether it’s 
fat shaming, standard marketing practices, or making places inaccessible to the obese, these norms continue even when they are fought through legislation. As surely as racism still exists, there is a strong element happy to believe overweight people are not only sinful gluttons, but are lesser people because of it. Somehow without addressing any these issues specifically, The Whale addresses all of them. Charlie’s obesity is a tragedy not because he’s obese, but because he quite clearly still has plenty to give; this isn’t an existence in a coma on life-support; this is a living, breathing, thoughtful, kind, and -in his own way- productive human.
Simply put, The Whale is one of my favorite films of the year. I usually dislike when I can tell that this is a play in movie form – and, don’t kid yourself, The Whale is most definitely a play in movie form. Somehow, I excuse it this time around. Charlie is The Whale. Humans that large don’t exactly choose parkour, knowwhatI’msayin’? But that doesn’t make his life any less valuable. This film is a tragic, moving, and sometimes even subtle portrait not necessarily of an obese man, but of the human condition itself. How is Charlie any different from you or me, really? We all have to have things to live for, or else, what’s the point? You may as well eat yourself to death. I dunno that I will ever see this film again, and it will likely disappear after this Oscar cycle, but I think that would be a small tragedy. The Whale is a gem and one that should be appreciated by anybody who has ever in their life given, received, or even heard a fat joke.
There once lived a man on a couch
Who was considered a bit of a slouch
His life, it was tragic
Because he’d spent all the magic
It had nothing to do with his pouch
Rated R, 117 Minutes
Director: Darren Aronofsky
Writer: Samuel D. Hunter
Genre: Pain
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: The empathetic
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: The easily disgusted
