Shame

There’s no question that Shame marks a demonstrable leap forward for filmmaker Steve McQueen, as the movie effectively marries the director’s distinctive sense of style with a narrative and a central character that are, for the most part, consistently compelling – which was certainly not the case of McQueen’s striking yet middling debut, Hunger. The film, which details the exploits of a sex addict (Michael Fassbender’s Brandon Sullivan) over the course of a few eventful days, unfolds at a deliberate pace that effectively complements McQueen and Abi Morgan’s subdued screenplay, with the low-key, slice-of-life atmosphere heightened by Fassbender’s brave (and thoroughly engrossing) work as the protagonist. The stellar nature of the actor’s performance initially compensates for the narrative’s demonstrable lack of forward momentum, as McQueen, not surprisingly, emphasizes tone over plot for much of the film’s running time – with the only real exception to this a brief (and almost incongruously conventional) stretch detailing Brandon’s short-lived relationship with a friendly coworker (Nicole Beharie’s Marianne). There is, as such, little doubt that Shame primarily comes off a moody character study, with the somber vibe heightened by McQueen’s often jaw-dropping visual choices (eg Brandon, in a single take, goes for a long jog through the streets of New York City) – which ultimately does cement the film’s place as an admittedly uneven yet often spellbinding piece of work.

*** out of ****