Shame
Co-writer/director Steve McQueen never illuminates the past pains that have lead Brandon and Cissy, the siblings at the center of “Shame,” to their current patterns of self-destruction and emotional repression. This is not the fault people might think; by focusing squarely on the present, McQueen turns the film into a clinical study in addiction. Besides, any explanation of “why” these characters behave as they do would only seem perfunctory and bound by cliche, turning “Shame” into a Lifetime “movie of the week,” and who wants to sit through another one of those?
Michael Fassbender gives one of the bravest performances of the year as Brandon. A 30-something executive at a New York business, Brandon is also a sex addict. Everywhere he goes, he is searching for his next “fix,” whether it’s online; with a woman he sees on the subway; with a woman he meets at a bar; or a prostitute even. His addiction is the only thing that matters, and his “need” requires fulfillment at all times, whether it’s at work or out with the guys, or even if he’s just out for a run. A complication arises, however, when his sister (Carey Mulligan) arrives unexpectedly, and needs a place to stay. It throws off his routine, and leads to an emotional showdown that Brandon is ill-prepared to deal with.
There is a lot of sex, and a lot of nudity (on both sides), in “Shame,” but this is not a film intended for arousal. While the film does qualify as an “erotic” drama in genre, the most prevalent emotion in McQueen’s movie is pain. Brandon moves from scene to scene not looking for a love connection, an outlet to release his emotional demons through sex. He flirts with women, and he even goes into a gay bar at a time when he is at his lowest, but there’s no romance here (although every encounter is consensual); there’s only a constant need to purge himself.
Cissy has her own issues. One of her first nights staying with Brandon ends with her bringing Brandon’s boss home for sex. And we overhear a phone call in which she is pleading with the person of the other line to give her another chance. Her own pain and isolation comes through in a haunting rendition of “New York, New York” she performs at a night club, which Mulligan sings, heartbreakingly, as McQueen focuses on a close-up on her face. She wants Brandon to be a brother to her, but he doesn’t appear to have any emotion towards her other than the rage he feels when she thrusts herself into his routine.
The film ends not with a series of sappy, 12-step conclusions, but rather with delicate revelations of these characters, and the depths of their despair. Fassbender and Mulligan bare their souls in this difficult and disturbing story, and McQueen compliments their high-wire performances with a visual and musical style that is unforgettable and almost a character unto itself in the film. You won’t feel uplifted after watching “Shame,” but like it or not, you will feel something, which is a lot like the journey Brandon goes through during the film. Trust me– it’ll take a piece out of you.
