As lovely as the costume was, it was a bear to wear. For three hours a day, Mr. Jones sat while Mr. Hill and three other artists put the thing on: the foam latex suit and gloves, the fiberglass helmet with eyes he couldn’t see out of, the sharp fangs, the remote-control gizmos in his spine. The suit itself was so form-fitting that Mr. Jones had to use K-Y Jelly to squeeze inside; when wet, which it nearly always was, it soaked up pounds of water like a sponge. “He never complained once,” Mr. Hill said.
The cast and crew got a sense of what Mr. Jones endured every day when a professional dancer was brought in as a body double for a particularly challenging dance sequence. “He got into the suit, did one pirouette, and then proceeded to projectile vomit,” Mr. del Toro remembered.
“That’s how good Doug is,” Ms. Hawkins said. “He couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear properly, and yet his performance is so beautiful and so delicate. He is the film. It just wouldn’t work without him.”
I think the scene referred to is the black and white musical performed near the end of "The Shape of Water." This bit alone speaks volumes for what he does throughout the film, let alone his career (and why not complaining about wearing the suits is such a big deal). Great share. And movie.