It's fitting that, of all Biblical narratives, filmmaker Darren Aronofsky chose to adapt the flood narrative. His film Noah recounts the peculiarly disturbing antediluvian tale of a human society so wicked and depraved that God, its very creator, chose to wipe it all out with a massive flood and start over. This is the same perspective that almost every Aronofsky film begins with — people are mostly awful, and life is generally tragic; if Aronofsky was God, there'd likely be more than one flood.

His new film, The Whale, has received mixed reviews, which is fairly typical for Aronofsky at this point. The film has 65% on Rotten Tomatoes; his movie mother! has 68%; The Fountain has 55%; his aforementioned Noah has a surprisingly decent 75% (proving that the old adage, 'write what you know,' still pays dividends). Yes, Aronofsky has made a couple of masterpieces (such as Pi and The Wrestler), but the past decade has seen him wallowing in bland misery more than usual, culminating in The Whale.

Critics Were Divided in 2022 Over The Whale

Sadie Sink in The Whale
A24

Some critics have lauded its emotional impact, such as Soren Andersen with The Seattle Times, who calls it, "A searing, moving experience." Almost everybody acknowledges that it contains a tremendous performance from Brendan Fraser, one of the best of the year. The thing is, most people can't square the great performance with the mean-spirited film it's in.

Related: The Whale Review: Brendan Fraser's Awe-inspiring Performance Keeps Darren Aronofsky's Film Afloat

Andrew Parker of The Gate writes, "Without Fraser’s tremendous contribution and an equally praiseworthy supporting performance from Hong Chau, Aronofsky’s latest would be the filmmaker’s worst." This seems to be the consensus opinion, one well abbreviated by Adam Graham of Detroit News — "The Whale is messy and compromised, but finds its honesty in the emotional core of its lead performance. See it for Fraser, try and drown out the rest." But what is the rest? What is Aronofsky's modus operandi?

Darren Aronofsky Is Now Known for Misery Porn

Leto Connelly Requiem for a Dream
Artisan Entertainment / Summit Entertainment

The term 'misery porn' may sound oxymoronic, but there is a kind of gleeful addiction to suffering, martyrdom, and the awfulness of everything. This is practically synonymous with the recent phenomenon of 'doomscrolling,' in which people read on and on about all the horrible things that are happening in the world in a feedback loop of negativity. Doomscrolling even has a WebMD page, it's so prominent.

Looking beyond millennia-old tragedies from the Greeks and Chinese, extremely depressing films have been around since the beginning; artists and creative types aren't usually the cheeriest of people. The great tragedies, however, usually have something to say about the human condition, offer explanations for societal or spiritual malaise, or are righteously angry in their attempt to provoke political change.

For instance, Ken Loach films are typically depressing, but have a deep political edge to them that is important and inspiring; Ingmar Bergman movies are often hopelessly sad, but they inform us about the human condition and the nature of spiritual emptiness. Hell, even general misanthropy and cruelty can make for great cinema if done with humor, aesthetic genius, and historical awareness, as is the case with director Michael Haneke.

Related: All of Darren Aronofsky's Films, Ranked

Darren Aronofsky, on the other hand, gives viewers the misery without the substance. In Requiem for a Dream, he depicted the increasingly desperate, hopeless, and nihilistic behavior of people addicted to various drugs. In The Wrestler, he studied a man who destroys his body more each day for the entertainment of others. In mother!, he allegorically depicted the fall of man and the destruction of the environment, as hordes of people tormented poor Jennifer Lawrence (Aronofsky's girlfriend at the time). Now, in The Whale, he turns his miserable lens on a lonely, queer, obese man.

The Whale Has No Plot, Just Suffering

Brendan Fraser in The Whale
A24

Don't let this film deceive you — The Whale doesn't like its protagonists, and it doesn't like you. From the very opening scene, subjecting Brendan Fraser's titular character to a humiliating masturbating session that gets interrupted by a missionary, The Whale is obviously disgusted by its central character, Charlie. The foley work in the film meticulously details every masticating chew, bubbling of saliva, and crunch of food that the 600-pound protagonist eats. Instead of attempting to humanize the morbidly obese, Aronofsky's direction only criticizes; it's titled The Whale, after all. His film is essentially one mean fat joke disguised as Oscar-bait.

For Aronofsky (always a fan of religious themes), protagonists like Charlie are Christ figures made to suffer for our sins. Charlie endures the humiliations of the world and his approaching death with as much dignity as he can muster. Even his daughter, played by Sadie Sink, inflicts pain. Her character is an obnoxiously cruel, one-note, empty individual who thrives on insulting and hurting Charlie after he cheated on her mother a decade ago. Charlie suffers through this, his lover's suicide, his terminal condition, and so much else, and might as well be saying, "Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do."

Brendan Fraser in Darren Aronofsky movie The Whale from 2022
A24

Chris Feil, writing for The Daily Beast, sums this all up beautifully — "The film would rather make Charlie a divine saint, willingly accepting his daughter’s constant epithets and speaking like a motivational cat poster (his hushed 'people are amazing!' features prominently in the trailer) than a complete person. This makes the character as written feel hollow, no matter how charismatic the actor who plays him. Fraser is tasked with pulling our heartstrings throughout in a ceaseless torrent of tears, but he’s not given the luxury of an arc to play. The film might think it is distinguishing Charlie by his unconditional love, but Hunter’s script defines Charlie purely through his suffering."

In short, Charlie is our savior, and even he is disgusting. Welcome to Aronofsky's world — too good for miserable wretches like us.