Shame

Shame (2011): United Kingdom – directed by Steve McQueen

Rated NC-17 by the MPAA – contains sexual content, nudity, some language, brief drug use, mature themes, some disturbing content

Note: Shame contains some strong subject matter that will be discussed in the following review, and may touch on plot points that some viewers might want to avoid prior to viewing the film.

Shame opens with an incredible scene.  Brandon (Michael Fassbender) sits on the subway in New York.  There is a very beautiful woman across from him, and he stares.  Not maliciously, not even that lasciviously.  Not happy, not sad.  Just staring.  She is flattered, stares back.  She glances at her hand, becomes nervous, stands to leave when the train stops.  She puts her hand on the pole, a wedding ring clearly visible.  He stands, puts his hand just under hers, barely touching at the knuckle.  She hurries off the train, perhaps nervous and aware she ought not be thinking whatever thoughts are floating through her head.  He follows her, loses her in the crowd.  Inter-cut with this scene are mundane moments of Brandon’s life, getting out of bed, opening the shades, bedding someone.  A similar scene bookends the end of the film, forming a fitting conclusion to the narrative in between.

Brandon works a job in New York and makes a lot of money.  His boss, Dave (James Badge Dale) is happy with him, as Brandon can close deals.  They go out, Dave hits on everyone but fails.  But Brandon is successful at picking up one-night stands.  These aren’t enough, though, as evidenced by his enormous porn collection, the prostitutes he solicits and his chronic masturbation.  He doesn’t seem to enjoy much of it, though, it’s more a compunction.  He is, in a way, both ill and a monster, and the film, in a way, chronicles his addiction and, to a lesser extent, his monstrosity.

He has a sister, Sissy (Carrey Mulligan), who is also troubled.  The two of them originated from Ireland, but no details are given other than they “aren’t bad people, just came from a bad place.”  Sissy, after calling for days, finally shows up in Brandon’s apartment.  He is irate but lets her stay.  She sings in a nightclub, and Dave finds her easy pickings.  She is sick, too, like Brandon but in a different way.  Their relationship is tense.  Sissy jokes, is playful, and Brandon is moody and occasionally erupts.  There are hints of perhaps an incestuous past, or shared sexual abuse.  Again, there are no details.

Eventually Brandon’s life, as it intersects with Sissy’s, begins to unravel.  Finally, toward the end, he hits rock bottom; the final shot allows the viewer to determine Brandon’s ultimate course of action.  A pair of final hook-ups, just prior to the film’s climax, are painful.  One, in a gay bar, is gritty and dirty, and the other, a three-way hookup with expensive prostitutes, is gorgeously, lushly shot, and stylishly edited.  For Brandon, both are painful and full of misery.

Shame is interesting because of the title itself and the way it examines Brandon.  It doesn’t seem to judge his actions or addictions; he judges himself.  There is a moral center to Brandon, and as Sissy begins to encroach on the way he has established his highly protected, insulated life Brandon is forced to acknowledge what little remains of his conscience.  His work computer is found to contain a great deal of pornography, but his boss gives him an easy out, blaming it on an intern.  Sissy discovers a “playmate” waiting on his laptop via webcam.  He sees that he has been discovered, and throws away almost everything in his apartment, angrily.  When Brandon finally has a regular date with a co-worker, they discuss relationships and it becomes clear that he believes he has no need for them.  In fact, a later tryst with the same woman ends with Brandon failing to perform; his addiction has made it impossible for him to even engage in anything more than meaningless, connection-less sexual activity.

In many ways Shame is similar to Requiem for a Dream, but with long slow shots instead of stylish freneticism.  Both are about descents into addiction, with an initial glimpse at a lifestyle that might be appealing.  Neither judges its characters; their own actions pave the way for their consequences.  But where Darren Aronofksy focuses on the actions and effects, Steve McQueen tries to dig at a moral center.  Shame, while perhaps not as accomplished a film as Requiem for a Dream, is commendable in its own right.  The camera is generally quiet, and still, and occasionally follows.  Only in rare scenes does it become alive and engaged, such as the final three-way tryst.  Fassbender is remarkable as the stone-faced, solidly built miserable man.  Mulligan is generally effective, though perhaps doesn’t quite have the presence to pull off some of her most demanding sequences, such as a long, slow, miserable rendition of “New York, New York.”  She certainly doesn’t fail, but isn’t quite able to fully occupy the screen.  The score is fitting, and Brandon’s penchant for classical music perhaps seems at odds with his character.

There are not a great many films like Shame.  It is full of sexual content (though only fully earns its NC-17 rating in the final twenty minutes, without showing any hard-core content), but it is entirely miserable.  Just as the drug use in Requiem for a Dream is anything but fun, so is the sex in Shame, both for the characters and the viewers.  There are very few people to whom I would recommend Shame, in spite of how much I appreciated and was moved by the film.  For select viewers there is a lot to ponder, and it can be fascinating.  The majority of audiences will be immediately turned away by the sexual themes.  Others might find the film too unendingly depressing.  Nevertheless, a small group might find edifying moments in this film that make the journey worth the effort.