Shame (2011) review — uncomfortably powerful and aching for an erotic drama

☆☆☆☆☆

In Steve McQueen's next film after his 2008 debut Hunger, Shame follows thirty-something year old Brandon Sullivan (Michael Fassbender), a handsome and successful Irishman living in New York, who lives a seemingly normal life, hiding a debilitating addiction to sex. When his sister Sissy (Carey Mulligan) crashes his apartment and invades his privacy, Brandon is forced to face his addiction head-on.

Spoilers ahead.

Work, drink, fuck, sleep. Work, drink, fuck, sleep. Brandon lives in a numbing cycle with no clear out. Just a constant state of repetition as he feeds his addiction through meaningless sex and copious amounts of hardcore pornography,

Shame is an erotic movie, but it isn't about sex. It's about self-hatred, disgust, avoidance; Shame.

Most films don't want to confront the topic. It's uncomfortable. Objectively, it is, because it's realistic. But Steve McQueen does a fantastic job portraying it as such through the directing and writing, and the cinematography absolutely plays a hand in this too. The colour palette used in the film at the start is plain and bland; black, white, blue. It's dull and monotonous, reflecting Brandon's cyclical lifestyle and closeted emptiness. Sissy introduces the colour. Yellow pales over certain scenes, contrasting the dull blue permeating others. Sissy is the opposite of Brandon's blanched, detached character. She is needy and impulsive. He sees his sister as this parasite, but she embodies a sense of hope and vulnerability compared to the despair and mortification forever present in his life.

The film relies heavily on showing and not telling. Implications of incest and familial abuse run rampant in Sissy and Brandon's relationship alone, leaving the audience with a sense of discomfort and perhaps understanding as to why they're like that. Why Brandon is detached and numb and constantly chasing sex to fill this void within him so rampantly that his hard drives are filled with porn and he fucks constantly with no real affection or connection. Why Sissy is so desperate and needy for the attention and validation of others, her near-incapability to look after herself. They clash against each other and so aggressively need one another's company and care. All at once. Moments of affection, where they hug, where Brandon lets a lone tear drop as Sissy sings Sinatra's "New York, New York" in the bar, conflict with moments of brutality, where they argue over Sissy's invading presence, where Brandon attacks her and accuses her of spying. They struggle to truly connect until the hospital scene, where they are, in a sense, comforting one another.

There is constant allusions to imminent fatality or despair throughout the film, building up to the climax (no pun intended) where Brandon chases his desires through hooking up at a red-lit gay club and having a frenzied threesome with prostitutes while Sissy slits her wrists. her voice ringing through, saying, "We're not bad people. We just come from a bad place," while close-ups of flesh meeting flesh and Brandon's orgasm face play on screen. Him pulling her away from the ledge of the train tracks, the scars on her arms. A constant, subtle reminder of impending harm in the film.

I pity Brandon. I need to put that out there. He's a rich asshole who treats everyone like shit and can't stand getting close to anyone, but there's something vulnerable about him. Say, removing all his porn and food from the apartment could be symbolic of a need for purification, a ritualistic cleansing of guilt despite the filthy degradation of his flesh before and after. There's moments of genuine need to improvement and growth from the stagnant pit of addiction.

The film is open-ended and cyclical, mimicking Brandon's own life. It starts and ends with him on the train, staring at a beautiful woman with a ring on her finger. He chases her in the beginning, portraying his desperate need for fulfilment. But, in the end, the film cuts to black after a shot of her ring. It looks like he withstands the temptation, but it's not known if he chases her this time, if he catches up and throws himself back into the vicious cycle once more, but you hope he doesn't.

Shame, as a film, leaves you empty and aching, almost shoving you directly into Brandon's mind and life through McQueen's directing and Fassbender's acting as the character, aided by Mulligan's equally fantastic portrayal of his sister. There is a sense of revulsion and discomfort in the film, but nothing can truly describe the feeling it gives.