Video Pick: Shame

The affliction known as “sexual addiction” has been branded as something of a hypothetical taboo–a petty excuse for those who commit infidelities and perverse behaviors.  In Shame, Brandon Sulliven (Michael Fassbender) does neither.  He uses sex as a means of alleviating an unknown emotional trauma.  After he reaches sexual climax, his torment has not been diluted, but temporarily replaced with guilt.  Brandon’s affliction prevents him from establishing normal human connections.  His wounds are so deep that he even refuses to answer the phone calls of his persistent sister, Sissy (Carey Mulligan).

Brandon’s daily routine in his life has been narrowed to eating, sleeping and showing up to work while making time for some method of sexual release in between.  One morning, Brandon’s computer is taken away for maintenance.  Brandon’s boss, David (James Badge Dale), reports that a massive amount of lurid material was found on his hard drive.  Brandon is emotionally detached to the point that his boss believes him when he diverts the blame on another employee.  Or perhaps David suspects Brandon’s lie, but neglects to make accusations in lieu of his own extramarital exploits.  On occasion, Brandon will tag along as his boss scopes the bars and clubs of New York City, always striking out as the women set their eyes on Brandon instead, who makes no attempt to make contact.  When one persistent lady offers Brandon a ride home, the temptation is too great and the two wind up humping in an alley.

Shame won’t appeal to everyone, or even most people.  It’s raw, graphic and unnerving.  Fassbender exposes much of himself (in so many ways) without ever dictating the exact reason for his affliction.  The ambiguity of our protagonist’s past is one of the film’s greatest strengths.  If you look hard enough, you can piece together clues to Brandon’s pain, such as when Brandon’s sister first arrives at his apartment and asks to stay with him, having just broken up with her boyfriend.  Brandon tolerates her presence, but clearly wants her to leave.  There is odd undercurrent between the two that’s hinted during their bizarre first encounter or whenever Sissy attempts to formulate an morsel of emotional bonding.   

Sissy is also a scarred soul, but not in the same capacity as her brother.  When Sissy procures a singing gig at a local nightclub, both Brandon and David come to watch her perform.  Sissy recites a long, melancholy rendition of “New York, New York” in one an unbroken closeup, allowing us to peak into her eyes and into her soul.  Brandon clearly sees something and begins to weep.  Is he crying for her, for himself, or for something the two share between them?

Shame is the second feature of director Steve McQueen (not to be confused with deceased movie star), who injects his film with nuances of emotional traumas, while fully displaying the futility of Brandon’s sexual escape and coping mechanisms.  There is a great moment that occurs after Sissy finishes her song and begins the mutually flirt with David.  When the three return to Brandon’s apartment, the other two parties begin to have sex.  Fassbender’s performance is perfection as his discomfort begins to trickle into his nervous system.  Anyone would feel awkward being within hearing distance of the sexual exploits between their sister and their boss.  Brandon’s unease goes beyond this and in a panic flees his apartment to jog through the streets of New York in one, unbroken shot that lasts for at least a full minute.  By the time Brandon arrives at Time Square, he stops to wait for a light.  He can continue running, but what’s the point?

McQueen’s never-ending shots are so long-winded that they invoke a sampling of the discomfort Brandon feels.  One of the film’s best scenes is when Brandon goes out on a dinner date with a beautiful co-worker, Marianne (Nicole Behaire).  The entire conversation is one long shot that slowly creeps in as Brandon carefully lowers his shields.  The awkwardness of the scene is so genuine–even the constant interruptions of the inept waiter are distinctively natural.  Unlike Brandon’s other relations with women, Marianne is not interested in a purely superficial relationship.  She’s funny and interesting and turned off when Brandon shuns the very idea of marriage and long-term commitment.  But there is just enough chemistry for a second date.  When the two finally attempt to have sex, there are some unforeseen barriers that reveal much of Brandon’s disconnectedness. 

Many have criticized the Academy for not nominating Fassbender for his impeccable performance.  Perhaps it had a lot to do with Fassbender’s internalization.  When he shares scenes with Mulligan, the Brandon character is unable to put his emotions into words.  Sissy’s very presence unravels his world based on the manner of his body language rather than his dialog.  There are no great soliloquies, only faces of inner turmoil.  Yet, Fassbender’s Oscar robbery was for telling so much while saying so little.  Mulligan was also deprived for her equally enthralling take as Sissy, who is sometimes callous, but is really a lost soul in need of someone to show her love.  Perhaps the Oscar voters were also unsatisfied by the lack of an explanation for the sibling’s torment.   

Shame is filled with at least three great scenes and no bad ones.  However, there is a missing element from the third act that keeps it inches away from greatness.  There are inevitable conclusions and the script could have used a little more meat in its third act.  But there is undeniable sadness and empathy generated.  When Brandon faces his hardest torment, he roams the streets of New York seeking sexual release wherever he can, which includes engaging in a homosexual encounter at a sleazy club.  Brandon is not a gay man, but he’s addiction is so tremendous, his pain is so overbearing, that he will subject himself to any means of relief–just like any addict would.  Shame is a remarkable film and contains some of the best acting from 2012.  For those who can stomach the subject matter, it’s a must see!