Last week I reviewed Spike Jonze's 2013 film, Her, and this week it's Steve McQueen's 2011 film, Shame. Both have a one-word title. They were released within two years of each other. They sit three places apart on the BBC's list of 21st Century's 100 Greatest Films. Both deal with a professional white man's dysfunctional attitude towards sex following a traumatic incident. Both contain an unconventional sexualized female foil to the lead man's sexual dysfunction: in the case of Her, an AI Operating System, and in the case of Shame, a sister.
WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS
Of course there are differences. In Shame,
Brendon (Michael Fassbender) does not have a sexual relationship with his
sister. And Shame is set in contemporary New York rather than the unspecified
future of Her. This last point makes me admire Shame a little bit more than Her because I think it's always harder
to pull off a narrative with a wider social resonance when it's based in the
here and now, as opposed to a sci-fi setting where basically anything can
happen. Tying a story to the present
creates huge challenges in how to lift the narrative from mundanity, how to
surprise and excite your audience in comparison. But when it works, as it does in Shame, the reward is a story with more
credibility because it has its roots in the messiness of real life.
Brandon is a sex addict. His sister, Sissy (Carey Mulligan), is messed
up. Both their problems come from some
shared issue in their Irish childhood.
It's not explicitly mentioned, but the implication is child abuse of
some kind, whether sexual or mental or physical or a combination.
Review continues below...
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Brandon relishes the role of cuckolder – at
one point he openly taunts the thuggish boyfriend of a woman he is seducing in
a bar, making him sniff his fingers.
Fassbender does a great job with the role, just as Joaquin Phoenix did
in Her. It would be interesting to see how a black
actor would play it, opening up another layer of complexity to an already
complex character due to the traditional role of black men in cuckold
literature (usually written by white men, of course).
His use of pornography at home and at
work, his constant masturbation, his frequent use of hookers, brothels, sex
clubs, pick-up bars, and even a gay sex booth is a welcome realistic portrayal
of a sex addict. Yes, he also has the
ability to attract strangers on the metro, in regular bars etc, but it would be
a mistake to show his character as any kind of glamorous superstud, and the
film does not do that. It's true that he
always seems to be able to perform, while real-life sex addicts generally end
up complaining about erectile dysfunction.
The single exception is when he tries to have sex with a woman from work
who breaks the mould – she is single, she isn't afraid to call out the
weirdness of his lack of commitment, she implies that a longer term
relationship is what she wants.
Personal Score: 7/10
This is part of a series of film reviews where I give my comments on the BBC's Top 21st Century films as a writer. The idea is that over time these posts will build into a wide-ranging writing resource.
For more details about the approach I've taken, including some important points about its strengths and weaknesses (I make no claims about my abilities as a film critic or even the accuracy of my comments... but I do stand by the value of a writer's notes on interesting films), see my introductory post here.
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