In 2010, director Guillermo del Toro lamented the loss of his passion project “At the Mountains of Madness,” a film adaptation of the H.P. Lovecraft novel of the same name. Del Toro had what he thought was a convincing package, and had put substantial work into this large-scale cosmic horror story, but Universal Studios was hesitant at the prospect of putting money into a R rated film without a happy ending or a love story.

Guillermo del Toro stands out as an author, a director who makes movies for himself more so than general audiences. The gothic inspiration and sensational creature design are the cornerstone of his films and his fan followings, from “Hellboy” to “Pacific Rim” to “Pan’s Labyrinth.” He pulls inspiration from Lovecraft, and old genres and stories that enjoys. It is this adoration of the classics that leads to “The Shape of Water,” del Toro’s latest work that currently leads the Oscars pack with 13 nominations, including Best Picture and Best Director.

It is quite literally an homage to the “Universal Monsters,” the science fiction and horror films released by Universal Studios between the 1920s and 1950s. It intentionally follows the familiar “misunderstood monster” storyline, but more importantly, it flips the classic del Toro structure inside out, for better or for worse.

The story is set in 1962, outside of DC during the Cold War. We follow Eliza (Sally Hawkins), a mute who works as a cleaning lady in an underground government lab. She falls for an amphibious man (Doug Jones), the subject of scrutiny at said lab, and plans his escape. Her conspirators include her coworker Zelda (Octavia Spencer), her worry-wart neighbor Giles (Richard Jenkins), and a scientist (Michael Stuhlbarg) sympathetic to the creature’s plight. The film opens with voice narration over the most enchanting piece of music found in the film.

The disembodied voice tells us of a lost love and a voiceless princess as we are taken through an underwater version of Eliza’s apartment. This is as mesmerizing and fantasy-like as the film gets; it quickly loses the feeling as we are pitched into Eliza’s world and the cruel treatment that the creature receives at the hands of Strickland (Michael Shannon), the despicable head of the government facility. What follows is a familiar tale: an unusual girl falls for a strange, misunderstood creature and risks herself to ensure his protection. One could point out similar messages in films such as “King Kong” or “Beauty and the Beast,” and the film is indeed meant to pay homage or even direct references to these. In fact, if you view this movie as a spiritual successor or even a direct sequel to the 1954 classic “The Creature from the Black Lagoon,” you may find it even more intriguing as a result of the comparison.

Unfortunately, it’s this structure that causes to film to lag. Nothing happened that I did not already assume was going to. Even from movie previews I saw months ago, I was able to sketch out a rough synopsis in my head, plot point by plot point. The story may fail to take anyone by surprise, and the salutes to monster movies of old could be mistaken for a lack of originality. There were also times where I felt that the message was much too on the nose. Eliza and the creature share a connection because neither of them speak, and because he doesn’t treat her as though she is different. This is obvious from their initial interactions, yet the movie feels the need to have Eliza explain this word for word to the audience. Neither of the two characters in this love story speak; I feel that this dynamic was intriguing enough, but is never allowed to stand on its own- there always had to be someone to explain why this relationship was special. Similarly, Eliza’s feelings were already evident based on her existing relationships; her coworker Zelda talks enough for the both of them, and both Zelda and Giles are treated as outcasts, just like Eliza. Eliza clearly feels sympathy for people who are different and treated illy as a result of that, and because of this we didn’t need a play-by-play for why she wants to save the creature.

This doesn't mean that the movie lacks Guillermo del Toro’s magic. It is wonderfully acted on all accounts, and the creature’s look is an absolute highlight of the film. As someone who appreciates practical effects over computer generated ones, del Toro’s work is always a breath of fresh air. I spent quite some time looking at concept art for the film, and I honestly took as much enjoyment from that as I did seeing the movie itself. So of course, the movie looks beautiful all around. The coloration is gorgeous, but even there the implication of the colors lacks subtlety. Multiple characters tell us that green is the color of the future, and, guess what, the creature is green. Eliza’a apartment is green too. The villain literally vocalizes his dislike of the color green. Can you see the connection yet? The movie will go out of it’s way on several occasions to ensure that you do.

An author attempts to make a point to the audience, and must write their characters in such a way that their decision making is realistic and understandable to the audience. If the progression of the story feels strained or contrived at any point, the audience is at risk of being removed from the world and the conflicts within it. In the case of Pan’s Labyrinth, the overall point of the movie lies a few layers down, beneath the fantastical visuals, mesmerizing score, and choices that the characters make in any given situation. The message is found deep beneath the waves.The themes of “unquestioning obedience” and “choice” are clearer in Ofelia’s storyline, as she interacts with the faun and attempts to follow his instructions, but are less apparent when applied to the real life scenario of the revolution in Spain. The solemn ending is not without it’s reasons; you are meant to be left thinking about the meaning behind the suffering. For “The Shape of Water,” the message lies on the surface, no deep sea diving required. It is blatant as soon as the premise is revealed, so much so that the film feels far more like a classic structure than a “del Toro” one.

Guillermo del Toro is known as an artist who makes movies for his own enjoyment before other people’s. He has sought to create films that are wondrous to the senses, that throw sympathetic characters into worlds of dark fantasy and danger. Here, the opposite is achieved. He has taken a fantastical creature of myth and wonder and thrown him into a gritty world of hate and realism. The only fairy tale found here is the one Eliza creates in her own mind.

Del Toro once said that he would sooner experience “diarrhea in a corner” than burden himself with the expected. The Shape of Water is certainly not diarrhea, but del Toro seems to have sacrificed part of that spark of originality to give us this product. The product is lovely and worthy of it’s nominations. I only wonder if changes were made, or if this is indeed the project that he envisioned at the beginning. Perhaps he learned from the tragedy of “At the Mountains of Madness.”