Shame (2011)

Shame is an interesting film with lots to chew over. It has a vibe that runs through it - allowing for long sequences that may or may not mean much at all - but its tenor is solid - it certainly believes in the vision that it is showing... for better or worse.

Moody music and moody performances are at the core here - Michael Fassbinder is marvelous as a sex addict who has intimacy problems; as is his sister, as portrayed by Carey Mulligan. They are a contradiction - Mulligan is needy and ready for a tryst whenever and with whoever, regardless of the cost - just to feed the emptiness that is at the center of her; while Fassbinder is almost a sexual predator in the way he scans a woman, and yet, while desiring the sexual coupling, cannot commit to intimacy (the film does itself a disservice by never explaining why - as if he exists as an entity unto himself - a man with no past or future, living in the eternal now).

The performances are brave, as is the direction of co-writer and director Steve McQueen, although the floating "now" at the back third of the film remains for me a questionable choice, as are scenes that, quite simply seem to go on for too long (like the long jobbing scene). I was impressed however that McQueen allowed Mulligan the time to sing an entire version of a slow, jazzy New York, New York (and what amazing comping by the pianist!!) - that scene meant next to nothing, and yet was given the full treatment, an odd choice, but one that I enjoyed. All I can think is that this, like so much of the film, does nothing more than set the mood - it is intimate and distant at the same time, just like Fassbinder's character.

There is a fabulously acted scene between Fassbinder and a co-worker (kudos to Nichole Beharie as said co-worker) as they awkwardly and yet compellingly interact on a date while dining in a restaurant - constantly interrupted by an overbearing waiter, they still circle around each other as each starts to reveal small secrets of who they are. Fassbinder proclaims that relationships are overrated, which sets Beharie back a bit as she announces that she is separated and, from her actions, we believe her to be looking for some kind of bounce back romance - one that will recharge her self esteem. Fassbinder, who is looking for what used to be called "the zipless fuck" (ie, no strings attached emotionally or intellectually) takes a step back when he learns that Beharie is no longer "attached". That he later takes a chance is telling, and that said chance ends in disappointment all the more so. You just wonder what the heck happened to cause him to fear intimacy so much.

The ending doesn't answer these questions, but does a fair job of showing us a man trapped by his compulsion and, quite frankly, by life. He somehow cares for his sister, in spite of her being a "weight that drags me down". She complicates his compartmentalized life, and yet he is tethered to her, in spite of himself - just as he is tethered to his addiction - substituting the carnal for the real kind of interaction he can't seem to be able to handle. Creepy in many ways - and yet compelling - just as it seems that women can detect his desire and are somehow drawn to it; as the long subway scenes depict... again, both detached and yet intensely intimate, even with no words being said.