One of the most commented news in recent days was about the re-edition of Roald Dahl’s books in an expurgated version of certain words, such as the word “fat”. What’s in store for a movie like The whale, which associates its protagonist with a cetacean, and beyond the reproaches that have already been heard (which is not an edifying portrait of unhealthy obesity, and blah blah blah), is unpredictable. But Aronofsky’s whale, if it is also Herman Melville’s (there are several allusions to the moby dick), is really that prosthetic body, the kind of adipose diving suit in which Brendan Fraser appears stuffed — he is the whale in the living room, starting point and ending point of Darren Aronofsky’s film.
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