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Is it worth $10? Yes
Anyone reading this review is either interested in whether or not the NC-17 rated “Shame” is a film they’d like to see, or they’re wondering if I’ll address the buzz on the nudity and advise as to whether seeing star Michael Fassbender in the buff is worth the price of admission. So I’ll be up front: I do plan on discussing the film in the paragraphs to follow. However, whether or not you want to go to check out Fassbender in his birthday suit is up to you, and I’ll let you judge whether or not it’s worth it.
In “Shame,” Fassbender plays Brandon Sullivan, a sex addict. This becomes clear right from the start. After we see a montage of him with various women, we’re taken to a scene in his Manhattan office. Brandon is confronted with a stressful situation. His reaction? Go to the bathroom and masturbate.
Then into his life his sister, Sissy Sullivan (Carey Mulligan), comes crashing. She recently found herself on the street with nowhere to go, and big brother Brandon is her only option. The two have a contentious history, and if it were up to him, they would never speak again. He very coldly ignores her constant voice messages. However, she shows up and lets herself into his apartment one day, so Brandon’s hand is forced. She’s there and he feels the bonds of family that he tried so hard to avoid, so he lets her stay on the couch.
This living situation, of course, puts a cramp in his style and it’s not long until he is completely frustrated with her. To his credit, Brandon tries to make it work as best as he can. When Sissy brings home a man to sleep with--who is none other than Brandon’s boss, David (James Badge Dale)—he handles it by going out for a long jog. When she catches him in the bathroom pleasuring himself, he gets angry, but it also inspires him to throw away the magazines, DVDs, and lap top that fuel his sex addiction. He strives for a better life, free from the shackles of being compelled to reach an orgasm several times a day.
His attempt at a deeper relationship is with a co-worker named Marianne (Nicole Beharie). Rather than just meeting her for the usual sexual tryst, he meets her at a restaurant. The couple wine, dine, and converse. Their nervousness pales in comparison to the nervousness of the waiter (Robert Montano), who fumbles about like it’s his first day on the job.
As the relationship between Brandon and Mariane progressed, I found myself rooting for Brandon. His, and his sister’s, family history is hinted at but never fully disclosed—nor does it have to be. What is important is the here and now that he finds himself in, and there is hope that through Marianne, he may find a way to a better life.
A lot of the credit for this goes to Michael Fassbender. It would have been very easy to take this character and play him as an irredeemable lout. All one needs to do is add murder to his sex and exercise repertoire and you have someone very similar to Patrick Bateman in “American Psycho.” Fassbender, however, gives Brandon amazing complexity and vulnerability. Even when he is screaming at and attacking his sister, it’s clear that he is not doing it because he is sadistic or spiteful. He‘s doing it because he’s fragile and easily damaged. Something was done to him that hurt him, so now he’s lashing out. It’s all he knows, but he realizes there is more to life and he tries for it.
Credit must also be given to Steve McQueen, the director and co-writer (with Abi Morgan). Not only is the story solid and driven by a well-rounded character (a true rarity), but the directorial style suits the film extremely well. Close-ups are used sparingly and medium to long shots are favored. A lot of scenes are shot in very few angles, and some are even played out in single take shots. This serves the purpose of putting the audience in a voyeuristic position, as if we’re peeking in on Brandon’s life from a distance.
Two wonderful examples of this style are in the restaurant and watching Brandon jog. During the restaurant scene, the camera is positioned in a two shot so all we see are Brandon and Marianne, with the waiter occasionally coming back. It provides the same feeling as being in the restaurant, sitting two tables away, and just staring at the couple as they carry on their conversation. Likewise, Brandon’s jog is done in one long, unbroken take on the streets of Manhattan, shot from the point of view of a car on the street. It’s as if we’re in a cab, staring at someone as they jog along the side of the road, oblivious to the fact that you’re there, watching them.
There is also one other scene toward the end where Brandon and Sissy have a deep and intimate conversation while sitting on the couch. We watch in one long take from behind the couch as the two of them talk, and we listen in as they air out their feelings and frustrations with each other. It’s an amazing feat of filmmaking—to be positioned at a distance, yet feel so close.
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