There are stories that never get old. Tales that deliver such timeless and important messages that we never tire of hearing them. We don’t mind (well, most of us don’t mind) countless superhero films because it doesn’t hurt to be reminded that sometimes the good guys win.

In his newest film, Guillermo del Toro delivers one such message to the world, which was strapped into the emotional rollercoaster that was 2017. The Shape of Water is a beautiful example of giving a voice to the voiceless, and a testament to how we may find strength in our own silence.

For those of you that have no idea what The Shape of Water is, and have perhaps clicked on this article simply because you wonder if you’ll like the movie (spoilers ahead), the film takes place during the Cold War and focuses on Elisa, a mute janitor at a government facility (think Area 51) who forms an unlikely bond with an aquatic humanoid that is the newest addition to the facility.

The rest is beautiful. The film plays out like a retelling of Beauty and the Beast, a film that, oddly enough, was already retold this past year. But The Shape of Water is much more than a romance story. It’s about a love that surpasses kisses and chocolates. It’s a love story about companionship. About comfort. About belonging somewhere and having a voice that someone will listen to.

The Shape of Water finds its heart in its voiceless characters. While Elisa, (played with perfect the balance of expressiveness and reserved silence by Sally Hawkins) is the only true mute in the film, the other important characters are silenced in their own ways.

Zelda, Elisa’s best friend and unofficial translator, is played by Octavia Spencer in a role that is right up her alley. At first glance, Zelda is a bold character with no fear of speaking her mind. But through snippets of conversation, we find that she’s struggling to communicate with her husband at home. Del Toro shows us that even the brash can be silenced. A soft but not distracting “everyone is fighting their own battles” current flows through Zelda’s character.

Richard Jenkins gives a delicious performance as Giles, Elisa’s neighbor and best friend. Giles finds himself somewhat reluctantly swept up in Elisa’s story, but Del Toro pays careful attention to his character. A closeted homosexual, Giles spends time teaching Elisa about the wonders of art and music. He frequents a local diner, forcing his way through foul pies all because of a cute employee.

Even a Russian spy, who plays an important role in the rescue of the creature, finds himself silenced throughout the film. He is unable to reveal his identity to those around him and constantly has to change his name based on whom he is speaking with.

All of these characters are posed against Michael Shannon’s Richard Strickland. Shannon once again allows himself to sink his teeth into a villain role, playing Strickland with a loud and commanding aura. His presence boasts a lack of oppression. He demands to be heard.

The Shape of Water maintains that silence is a form of oppression, and makes it clear that even those who are silent will not stay that way. The heroes of the film, each silenced in their own way, do what is necessary to rescue the amphibian-man from the facility.

This banding together of misfits resounds with the films loudest message; no one should have to go through life alone. The film proves that we may find our truest companionship in those who suffer with us.

The Shape of Water is a visual masterpiece, with gorgeously color-coordinated costumes and brilliant set designs that have as much character as the actors themselves. But while the visuals are wonderful, the small scenes that Del Toro allows us to see sell the film.

A scene where Richard Jenkins has an art piece rejected by a company. An African-American family is kicked out of an empty restaurant that is “full.” Michael Shannon’s Strickland making love to his wife and covering her mouth with his hand. Del Toro masterfully weaves minor moments that don’t largely affect the plot, but show the theme oppression to strengthen his message.

In a slightly predictable but still emotionally rewarding third act, Michael Shannon’s Strickland corners the amphibian-man, but is ultimately bested by the “monster.” He learns that silence, oppression, cannot win. He realizes that the creature he mistook for an abomination had power. Guillermo del Toro reminds us through The Shape of Water that even though we may be silenced, we are never powerless.