Director Guillermo del Toro plumbs the mysterious, watery depths of his imagination to weave this dark and charming fairytale, set in 1960s America.

Every scene is stylish and enchanting.

And del Toro invokes all of the noir tropes of the Cold War era.

He casts his female lead as an outsider without the familiar grounding of family or language.

Elisa, played by Sally Hawkins, is mute and mysterious. We learn that she was orphaned with unexplained injuries as a child, and rescued from a river bank.

We come to intimately know her extraordinary routine through the films early minutes.

It’s a private insight into a simple but lonely life, punctuated only by visits to see her neurotic neighbour.

Giles, played by Richard Jenkins, is an out-of-work and out-of-luck ageing artist who cocoons himself within the next door apartment with 1940s song and dance films.

When the television briefly flickers to scenes of violence from the civil rights movement, Giles quickly changes the channel.

The character has all the hallmarks of a neuroses that means life beyond the apartment walls is simply too much reality.

Elisa is incredibly expressive, despite not using her voice.

Sally Hawkins’ performance, in the style of 2001 French film Amelie, is incredible in the depth of emotion she captures through gestures, wry smiles and fleeting looks.

Elisa works nightshifts as a cleaner at a high-security government scientific research centre.

She is flanked by the protective and chatty Zelda, played by Octavia Spencer.

Zelda shepherds the enigmatic and dreamy Elisa around the facility with a mop, cleaning trolley and a flourish. The unlikely pair are hard working and inseparable friends.

One night, they witness the high-security arrival of a monstrous creature from the Amazon.

Half fish and half man, the captured creature has all the gorgeous details of a del Toro monster.

Played by Doug Jones, the amphibious man's incredible costuming is reminiscent of the del Toro’s brilliant 2006 film, Pan’s Labyrinth.

The lonely Elisa befriends the monster with boiled egg treats, music and dance. They begin to communicate through sign language.

Their clandestine relationship forms under the nose of the savage and frightening government agent, Richard Strickland (Michael Shannon).

Strickland, clad in the spook’s uniform of a black suit, first meets Elisa in the men’s bathroom.

He strides in, washes his hands and urinates in full view as the women avert their eyes.

He tells them with misplaced arrogance that a man either washes his hands before he pisses, or afterwards, but never both.

The comment, mired in unquestioning self-belief, serves to highlight the sheer hypocrisy of Strickland’s moral code.

Strickland is entitled, vicious and cruel. He is convinced the Amazonian creature is evil and presides over it with beatings and chains.

When Elisa overhears the creature may be destroyed, she hatches a plan to free him.

She races the clock, quavering loyalties, Strickland’s dogged intensity and even a Russian spy, to protect the amphibious man.

Ultimately, what could be an implausible creature feature is a moving love story.

Elisa, the misunderstood human woman, and her Amazonian monster seem an unlikely match but are somehow made for one another.

It is impossible not to feel invested in - and moved by - their story.

The Shape of Water is whimsical, fantastical and beautiful.