A lot has been made of Shame, the controversial second film—or rather, the second controversial film—from British filmmaker Steve McQueen, way before its release.
A journey into the life of a sex addict named Brandon, played by Michael Fassbender (Inglourious Basterds, 2009) who came to fame in McQueen’s award-winning first feature Hunger (2008), we were told to imagine uninhibited scenes of sex and masturbation, the graphicness of which is odious depending on your sensibilities (more on that later). On another front, there was some concern that the only woman Brandon tries to have an actual relationship with is African-American (Nicole Beharie, The Express, 2008), as black audiences don’t want to see her get “turned out” (for lack of a less pejorative term) or for Brandon to find his soul in between a black woman’s legs, as happens pretty often in cinema (more on this later, as well).
Both of these imaginings are almost just that.
McQueen’s visual artist background shines through in Shame much stronger than it did in Hunger. As a result, Brandon’s addiction is portrayed in a harsh yet aesthetically appealing manner, but visual cues—like his mostly spartan apartment, save for a record player and old albums—and the introduction of Brandon’s sister Sissy (Carey Mulligan) lead us to the realization that there’s a lot more going on with him than first realized. Brandon, an accomplished and attractive man, possesses a cold, steely gaze that is mysteriously appealing for the women he picks up, but ultimately reveals a man disconnected from society and himself, as he pays for sex, as well—in person and online. Oh yeah, the scenes are pretty intense, especially in the third act. Yet, they’re not throwaways, but are paramount in showing us what Brandon is fighting against.
By comparison, Sissy is an outgoing, irresponsible up-and-coming singer (see: broke) who wears her emotions on her sleeve, along with “cutting” marks that expose a personally abusive past. The siblings aren’t keen to talking about their childhoods and it’s as if their parents never existed. Their secretive pasts give us reason to believe that Brandon and Sissy may have had some incestuous relationship. (She’s so comfortable being nude/semi-nude around him that your first thought before their familial bond is revealed is that they are sometimes lovers.) It’s perhaps why Brandon seems to view sex, necessary as it is for a release, as a punishment—because the only person he has an actual relationship with, distant as that is, is someone he cannot have. Maybe that’s why he hates having her around.
Oscar-winning producer Iain Canning (The King’s Speech, 2010) notes that both Hunger and Shame share a preoccupation with the body. He explains, “Hunger was about a man who has no freedom; he uses his body to create the only freedom he can … We’re telling the opposite story in Shame—the story of a man who has every freedom, and yet he uses his body to create his own prison.”
As for the second bit of controversy, it is unfounded. Beharie’s character Marianne is a co-worker of Brandon’s who he finally builds up the nerve to ask out after months (maybe even years) of admiring. Her race is unimportant to this and their date is an actual one and the warmest moment in the film. Though their attraction is apparently mutual, it ends in an awkward nature that causes Brandon to lash out at himself and correct the next day. The aftermath sets the tone for the remainder of the movie.
McQueen’s skill as a director has blossomed. His long single-camera scenes are expertly timed and intense angles are well executed. His storytelling techniques, whether you agree with them or not, are signs that McQueen—who’s next set to direct a biopic on Nigerian musician Fela Kuti, as well as Twelve Years a Slave, which is being produced by Brad Pitt and will also star Fassbender—will be working in the business for as long as he wants.
An old screenwriting teacher told me that “every film is a love story.” I approach my writing as such and it works well, but while watching Shame I wondered where the love is. It seems Brandon wants to extend some type of love to the world, but is incapable. Is it his past trauma with Sissy that’s causing an inability to connect to anyone/anything or is he just a lonely, horny fucker?
In a fashion, I see Shame as an unintentional love story to New York City. Maybe because McQueen isn’t from the States, but with cinematographer Sean Bobbitt (TV’s Sense & Sensibility, 2008) he captures the most popular city in the world in a beautiful, but non-obvious fashion—from the backstreets, to the subways, to the restaurants and clubs and the most naughtiest of haunts—as Brandon both sets up and unravels his sexual romps and balance for normality in the cold, yet bright dichotomy in which New York City specializes. Odd, since McQueen never intended to shoot in New York, but lovingly so since the film exposes what Brandon works so hard to hide—the truth about himself. New York City is raw that way and Shame is unflinching in the same manner.
Limité Rating: 4/5
Director: Steve McQueen
Writers: Abi Morgan, Steve McQueen
Cast: Michael Fassbender, Carey Mulligan, James Badge Dale, Nicole Beharie
Genre: Drama
Runtime: 99 min.
Release Date: December 2
