Film Review: Shame

There should be a word of warning for filmmakers who attempt to leave the impression of the film to their audience, being impartial or ‘leaving it up to the viewer’ may represent some ideological integrity but it is reductive in the fact that catharsis, the emotional centre is underserved. It’s a shame indeed that Shame is so reserved emotionally, guesswork appears to suggest that the distant tone of the film is meant to mirror Brandon’s (Michael Fassbender, ever engaging and always magnetic) alienation from his peers and family.  Cryptically though director Steve McQueen (the director of Hunger that is, not The Cooler King) at times demonstrates that he is all too aware of the emotional needs of his characters, but too often gets hung up on his burgeoning trademark motifs of extended takes and restricted coverage. A single protracted close-up of Sissy (Carey Mulligan) crooning ‘New York, New York’ may have been interesting as an editorial exercise, but with cinematography this restricted it’s often crying out for cuts.

McQueen’s filmmaking is as much exploitative as it is introspective, nothing wrong with either but they do share a pessimism in what they present. Make no mistake, Shame is a pessimistic film in the tradition of so called ‘social realism’. That said, it’s still folly to its own brand of tropes and clichés. If a character appears troubled and needy, it’s not surprising if said character turns up worse for wear later. Self-destruction is something at the heart of this and McQueen’s previous film, the problem is that this theme is not much more than a thinly explored veneer and one that is quickly worn out. Dramatically nihilism is much more satisfying than creation, but it’s comparable to a sugar rush.

A side effect perhaps of the film’s content, yes there is sex, reams of it. Full frontal, scenes of hetero and homosexual copulation and what appears to be unsimulated onscreen urination (the latter obviously being the offending article that got the film slapped with the dreaded NC-17 rating stateside), but for all the flesh on show here the film does run the risk of dramatically subduing us. There is a catharsis in all of this, but as stated earlier it culminates in a fizzle. Dramatically we’re as exhausted as Brandon, with our senses spent we’ve got nowhere to turn. Once again the impression of these scenes is probably evident in one’s reaction, but subjectivity can only carry a scene so far when the director’s convictions are elsewhere.

Overall there is little to complain about. At best it is a well intentioned, intelligent film that at worst suffers from sterile aesthetics and a lack of restraint. That said it is certainly more charismatic than the usual realist fare, Abi Morgan’s screenplay makes up for its typically miserablist set pieces with enthusiastic dialogue that pops and flows naturally from the game cast. At times the movie hints at a comparison with American Psycho (an unstable outsider socialising amongst a group of wealthy metrosexuals) but Shame has its eye more on tragedy than dark comedy. Unfortunately the film undercuts itself with so much emphasis on the visceral, in that sense you will find yourself struggling to keep up empathetically.

6.5