Not Coming to a Theater Near You

Shame

Every time Michael Fassbender’s Brandon gazes at a woman for more than a few seconds in Shame, we know exactly what’s about to happen. Since Steve McQueen does, too, he rarely wastes much time getting there. This eventually proves problematic. If we already know how a given scene will end, and it doesn’t matter how it gets there, then where’s the drama? In the aftereffects, perhaps, only they don’t change much, either: Brandon puts on a good (which is to say, brooding but handsome) face, represses his deep-seated angst, and almost immediately starts the cycle anew. He’s almost interesting, but only by omission—too much that’s meant to be self-evident is simply absent instead. Little occurs over the course of the film’s 99 minutes that isn’t in keeping with what we learn in the opening scenes or, for that matter, the trailer; it’s all theme and no variation. This wouldn’t be a problem if the ways in which that theme is repeated and amplified were themselves interesting, but at times they verge on the ridiculous. Exhibitionist in more ways than one, the film presents us with moment after moment clearly meant to alarm us and then gives the impression of looking down its nose at us for having the intended reaction.

Brandon’s problem is a real one, and its seriousness would be better conveyed by a modicum of subtlety rather than frequent emotional outbursts directed at his sister (which, we may assume, come about as a direct result of her being the only person who knows and understands him) and constant long shots of his face as he stares past the current object of his lust and into that void which apparently denotes misery. Events which should be allowed to speak for themselves are frequently subsumed by a formalism which, though objectively well-crafted, too often take precedence over the depicted material. There’s a good deal to like on the screen itself—visually, it can be quite beautiful when it isn’t overwrought, ditto some of the more low-key musical accompaniments, and Fassbender is as excellent as ever—but the impulses behind the whole affair just seem disingenuous.

by Michael Nordine   on 02 Dec 2011 7:10 PM   Source:

Shame makes for a clear contrast to American Psycho, countering that film’s histrionic violence with histrionic sex. Both films, however, are about emotionally vacant men and their disconnection from the people around them, and the chief conceptual difference between them is that Shame’s central character is confronted by a family member who forces him to introspect his compulsive, destructive interest in pornography. In neither film do I fully sympathize with the central misanthrope; rather, as characters I find their behavior, however off-putting, transfixing for their alienness. It’s like going to the zoo only to find the animals more disquieting and perverse than expected.

by Rumsey Taylor   on 04 Dec 2011 1:36 PM   Source: Fox Searchlight 35mm print