Shame
Directed by Steve McQueen
Distributed by Fox Searchlight
Shame is initially construed as the tale of a sex addict sinking into ever-greater depths to satisfy his depraved desires. However, it ends up being less about a physical dependency on the act and more about the compulsive guilt which drives him to destroy the meaningful relationships in his life.
Director Steve McQueen portrays Brandon (Michael Fassbender) with disturbing clarity, as well as a contradictory and apathetic perspective, making it difficult to reach a clear conclusion about his sex addiction.
Brandon has all the makings of a true Casanova, coupled with the neurotic tendencies of a sociopath dealing with residual guilt and resentment from a (hinted) troubled upbringing.
Instead of making these motivations immediately known to the viewer, McQueen uses a fluid and unstructured style of narrative to make them apparent. The monotony of Brandon’s work life, his troubled relationship with his sister (aptly named Sissy) and his inability to maintain meaningful relationships are layered in vivid images with minimal dialogue.
Unsurprisingly, gratuitous sex and nudity abound.
Brandon is seen chasing a married woman on the subway, has a compulsive porn habit, and a bevy of escorts with whom he engages in various sordid trysts.
However, instead of depicting the encounters as passionate releases, there’s a prevailing sense of discomfort that accompanies the viewer throughout the film. This, along with a haunting soundtrack, echoes the vicious cycle of Brandon’s guilt and deep-seated anxiety.
In one sequence, Brandon runs through the streets after discovering Sissy (Carey Mulligan) in an illicit tryst with his married boss in his own bedroom. His vulnerable condition becomes painfully apparent, ever drifting from one encounter to the next.
Despite the racy subject matter, the action is too slow-paced at times, and much too subtle and monotonous. Beyond the stunning polarities in darkness and light, it’s difficult to remain captivated throughout the film, which leads up to an ending that feels somewhat anticlimactic.
While the narrative is wrought by McQueen with beautiful clarity, neither the camerawork nor the screenplay forces the viewer to any definite conclusion on Brandon’s condition. This ambivalence is problematic in the context of a mainstream audience. It’s very easy, particularly with the sex-negative approach taken by the popular media, to assume that the excessive sex without a deeper connection is the sole motivator in Brandon’s downfall.
The subtext of each scene, however, would suggest an endemic desire to escape the banality of Brandon’s dysfunctional and tenuous everyday relationships — from his boss, to his parasitic sister, to a woman with whom he has a brief, failed relationship.
His character is not an unfamiliar one, adrift in a cold, unfeeling metropolis, severed from all personal ties. Indeed, it’s not so much his compulsive sexual behaviour, but rather a pervasive sense of guilt and reclusiveness, an all-encompassing sense of shame that ultimately destroys his life.
