A Dirty Shame

Shame

** out of ****

Directed by: Steve McQueen

Starring: Michael Fassbender, Carey Mulligan, Nicole Beharie and James Badge Dale

Running time: 101 minutes

Michael Fassbender is making quite the career out of portraying tortured, brooding men. In 2011 alone, he appeared on the big screen as a tortured, brooding Rochester in Jane Eyre and a tortured, brooding Magneto in X-Men: First Class.

But if he will be remembered for any role this year, it will likely be for playing a tortured, brooding sex addict in Shame, a drama that reunites him with British artist and director Steve McQueen (both worked on the brutal, brilliant Hunger, where Fassbender played Irish Republican Bobby Sands).

However, while an actor of uncompromising physical intensity, Fassbender can only bring so much to a character study that is curiously lacking in vivid character details.

He plays Brandon Sullivan, a successful black suit in downtown Manhattan who also happens to be a fiercely committed sex addict. He doesn’t watch Internet pornography as much as study it. He can beckon any 7th Ave. prostitute to come to his place without a hitch.

Neatly stacked displays of books and records at his white-washed apartment are in view, while boxes upon boxes of smutty magazines are stacked to the ceiling in his closets. It’s a clean apartment that houses a dirty mind. Brandon makes a conscientious effort to close the blinds often, so as to keep his private depravities a secret.

Think of him as a more damaged and less boastful version of Patrick Bateman from Bret Easton Ellis’s American Psycho, but with a throbbing penchant for sex instead of sadistic murder.

Silent, inquisitive and with one penetrating stare, Brandon can tantalize any women he likes into an evening of sustained sexual stimulation. His boss, David (James Badge Dale) tries to pick up women with corny one-liners and cheeky compliments, and fails miserably in his pursuit for sex. All Brandon needs to do is stare.

However, when Brandon’s sister, a struggling alcoholic musician conveniently named Sissy (Carey Mulligan) shows up to crash at his apartment, she cramps his style. Not only must he refrain from stimulation, but when David manages to hook up with Sissy, Brandon does not take it lightly. Tortured broodiness follows.

Shame could have achieved something haunting and resonant had it given the audience the chance to align with the protagonist’s voyeuristic point-of-view. However, McQueen, a big proponent of prolonged tracking shots, often frames his subjects from a distance.

Meanwhile, there’s a gaping hole in the film’s centre. McQueen and co-writer Abi Morgan (The Iron Lady) never get to the root of Brandon and Sissy’s damaged relationship. Without acknowledging the rocky past that is significant to understanding both characters, it is hard for either performer to make much of an impact. We are left with mere hints that their pasts may have included sexual abuse or incest, but these notions are thin and opaque.

As a result, Mulligan often overdoes certain moments to make up for a character that isn’t there on the page. Meanwhile, Fassbender brings eruptions of abandon and neediness to a character that is underdeveloped. He’s often riveting, but with a firmer script, could have been electrifying.

McQueen also stretches out certain scenes beyond their breaking point. At points, his long-take approach works wonderfully, able to capture raw conversation and fornication in an uninterrupted form. At others, he lets the camera roll for too long. Sissy’s somber stage performance at a classy lounge, where she sings a mulled-down version of "New York, New York," becomes overwrought once pushed beyond the fourth stanza.

There’s a compelling film somewhere in Shame, given the intriguing subject matter and Fassbender’s icy intensity. But while it may show a lot of skin, McQueen’s film never gets under ours.