Sexual depravity and psychological despair run rampant in Steve McQueen’s sophomore directorial release, Shame. But don’t expect explicit sexuality without purpose. McQueen is saying much, in a very complex manner, on the nature of modern masculinity, objectification, family, and even cinema itself. One of the best films I have seen all year, my fear is that audiences will focus too much on the fact that there is extreme sexual content rather than why.
Let me begin by saying Shame is a film, in the truest essence of the word. This is not your run of the mill three-act narrative, in which the characters verbalize every emotion and discuss the very plot the audience is watching. With its opening shot, Shame establishes that it is going to tell a story with pictures, not words.
That first shot introduces us to Brandon Sullivan (Michael Fassbender), a well-paid Manhattan businessman, satisfying his post-modern disconnect with prostitutes and pornography. Though from the get go, we understand there is something deeper within his character. His preternatural ability to seduce any woman in a bar, subway, or office, paints him almost as a Casanova of supernatural scale.
It is not until his sister Sissy (Carey Mulligan) shows up that we begin to truly see the depths of his despair. It is in this tension of characters that we begin to analyze how these sexual urges and behaviors manifest, their deep psychological roots, and the societal context that coaxes them to being.
Fassbender and Mulligan both deliver knock-out performances. Backed by a harrowingly perfect orchestral score, and shot with the most honest and beautiful cinematography, the actors play truthfully on the screen. McQueen fosters this by lingering every shot a moment just beyond when you’d expect it to cut. This is just one of the ways he directly questions the audience, “What do you expect from the movies?”
With the same question in mind, McQueen references the objectification of the camera’s gaze, typically of women. Unlike many feminist films that try to rid of any objectification on screen, McQueen speaks to this serious issue by objectifying everyone. The whole movie is a giant objectification. Michael Fassbender. Carey Mulligan. Everyone.
McQueen is obviously a student of film history. Shame draws much aesthetic inspiration from Antonioni, Bresson, and the New Wave – but molds these forms into something distinct, unique, and thoroughly modern. I can think of few other films in which entire scenes are shared with an exchange of glances, yet more is said than pages of dialogue could ever convey.
Our main character is a Red Bull drinking, cocaine snorting, modern man who flips through hard core porn as though scrolling his Facebook news feed. He is the embodiment of the disconnected masculinity, grown up in a culture of objectification and now a mere product, unaware of self or society.
Shame speaks to some deep-rooted societal constructs that are so complex, they are difficult to verbalize. Which means you have one option: Go see it.
– Perry Allen
