Take Shelter

Take Shelter (2011)

Director: Jeff Nichols

Cast: Michael Shannon, Jessica Chastain, Shea Whigham, Kathy Baker

Jeff Nichols's Take Shelter takes place in rural Ohio, and this is one of the first films I can recall that doesn't use a Midwestern milieu to cast a dour, pedantic commentary on an underrepresented population of the U.S. Instead, the film's setting sets an opposite example. Michael Shannon's family-man/construction worker Curtis lives an idyllic life consisting of a spacious home (for us New Yorkers anyway), a strong relationship with his co-workers, including BFF Dewart (Shea Whigham), and an abundance of plans for the future alongside supportive wife Samantha (Jessica Chastain). This pristine and virtuous life is precisely what makes Curtis's crumbling mental state and subsequent actions so tragic to witness.

The film opens with the first of several dream sequences, one in which Curtis, seemingly partaking in a normal routine, looks to the sky as an ominous presence looms close, and oil begins to rain from the sky. More dream sequences follow-- the family dog attacks Curtis, apocalyptic storm clouds hover above-- all of which point toward an ominous (literal) storm of catastrophic proportions. 

The film interchanges between dreams and reality without warning, having the tangible effect of allowing the viewer to experience them as Curtis does. Namely, the effect is that of being shuffled between the dreaming world and reality so suddenly, it becomes difficult to function in the latter without the former's effect casting a shadow.  As the film progresses, Curtis's supremely upsetting dreams become nightmares, and as his nightmares get worse, they begin to seep into his reality in the form of delusions, hearing thunder roll in the sky without cloud in sight. Predictably,  he soon finds it impossible to hide his waning sanity from his family and friends. 

All these evenly paced situations would remain fascinating even if the central character was a crudely drawn "every-man" to whom external events just happen. However, Curtis is more nuanced than the script requires; he approaches his predicament with fortitude and resolves to tackle the problem any way he can, even confiding in a counselor and visiting his Schizophrenic mother in a mental hospital for insight (a brief albeit memorable role played by Kathy Baker). His determination keeps us invested.  Likewise, his wife reacts understandably to his unfortunate affliction, often venting her frustration, but untypically supports him throughout, even playing the role of Father to Curtis' Prodigal Son, immediately embracing and forgiving him after a particularly traumatic outburst of psychosis at a community event.

After seeking help and being prescribed sedatives, Curtis transitions into a sort of fugue state of tranquility, and becomes determined to construct an elaborate storm shelter. It's as if the medication had an ironic, debilitating effect by shutting off his recognition of his psychosis, thus rendering him powerless against his illness.

The film functions on two levels. On one level, it's a fantastic drama of how mental illness destroys lives, how the sufferer transitions through the shameful stages of covering it up, willing it away, accepting it, seeking help, and finally (unfortunately) giving in.  In turn, Nichols wonderfully illuminates the isolation, fear, and anger over the injustice of such impermeable forces, and one's inability to exercise control over his or her mind. On another, dramatically different level, the movie functions as a quasi horror film by subtly hinting that these forces derive from some unseen source not limited to physiological dysfunction of the mind, but of an other worldliness. This second level is fleshed out in the final act of the film, as a real storm comes to town and Curtis's shelter becomes a perfectly calculated metaphor for our inability to shield ourselves from these forces.

My favorite scene from Take Shelter is when Curtis finally admits to his wife that he has been suffering from dementia. Shannon and Chastain's beautiful performances notwithstanding (Shannon clinches his jaw and evokes apology through his eyes as he struggles to come clean to his partner), Curtis explains away all ambiguity of the film's structure with the line, "it's about the feeling" when describing the palpable impact of his dreams.  In the film's most mesmerizing scenes, Curtis's "feelings", which were brilliantly displayed in the visuals of his dream sequences, are reincarnated in his waking life. 

The final apocalyptic scene through Chastain's perspective is literally impossible on earth and defies all logic. Could this be a metaphor of her understanding her husband's condition? Highly unlikely. Thus, the only ambiguous element remaining after the final frame is whether Curtis is still dreaming and will in fact never be able to escape his nightmares, or whether he will continue to fight against them.

A