Shame

Shame (2011)

Director: Steve McQueen

Cast: Michael Fassbender, Carey Mulligan, Nicole Beharie 

Steve McQueen's strengths are found in his compositions and unbroken takes; water from a pressurized hose washes human excrement off a jail cell in Hunger, alluding to the mechanical and (in)effective process of erasing large-scale human abuses from collective consciousness. In Shame, Michael Fassbender's Brandon jogs through midtown Manhattan listening to a piano piece, the camera following him as he passes each deserted block. The scene has a self-conscious, poetic flow to it, and is mesmerizing because it captures a solitary figure running methodically through an established New York City, like a hand wound on a clock. The question is, what is the purpose of it?

Compared to Hunger, which was remarkable for its political images and structural coherence, Shame feels lackluster, an excellent concept often lacking a definitive visual message. Despite this, the choice of scenery is deliberate, as Brandon's world is devoid of color and brightness. McQueen's atmosphere is mono-chromatic, quiet, and reserved. Brandon's apartment and office building are high-rises where the uniformed and unfriendly shapes of New York architecture lie just beyond every scene. Suggestions of Brandon's reluctance to acknowledge his own destructively stationary path can be found in every corner; the way a TV is positioned in his living room, facing nothing at all; the manner in which he drinks Red Bull and too much sugar in his coffee; the way his apartment and office lack decorations or hints of human interactions (i.e pictures). His sister, Sissy (Carey Mulligan) wears colorful hats and leopard-print coats, which contrasts with Brandon's exposed face and dark attire.

In addition to the fitting scenery, an  additional strength is the film's characterization, amplified by exquisite performances from its leads. Brandon's character refuses to come off as generic for a man with insatiable sexual compulsions, and Fassbender's stifled expressions, desperate outbursts, and moments of sheer pining bring an air of sadness and originality to the story. Shame is largely about longing, both Brandon's and Sissy's, which is why the scene where Sissy sings the lyrics to "New York, New York"  ("I want to wake up in that city that never sleeps/ and find I'm king of the hill") is particularly moving. In the opening shot, Brandon scopes out a young hottie on the subway, then follows her out of the station, losing her the last second to his disappointment. He encounters her again in the last frame, a transformed man after encountering death. Is Brandon longing for this woman just to sleep with her, or does he believe she is the "one" who will finally save him? My instincts point to the latter, since the film embodies New York as a place where isolation and loneliness are the norm, and where genuine human relationships are few and far between.

Despite these pluses, Shame suffers in the end from its own lack of consequence. We are happy that irrevocable disaster was warded off, but we also desire a more palpable effect to arise from Brandon's  realization of his own familial and self neglect. If we are to perceive the ending as hopeful, it is only a shot in the dark, which results in a viewing experience that demands much more than what an excellent narrative merely suggests. 

B+