Shame - At the mercy of one's eros

Director: Steve McQueen
Language: English
Release Year: 2011
Rating: FULL DAMN MARKS


There's a scene, just before the climax, where the essence of the movie is wrapped in a nutshell and is depicted in few of the most powerful expressions it could ever have been. Those rare glimpses through the vulnerable and guilt-ridden cracks in the protagonist's character is where the movie stops being just a media on celluloid, and becomes something more visceral, more tangible and more heartbreaking.

Coming off from the critically acclaimed "Hunger", the duo of Steve McQueen and Michael Fassbender present to us the most nuanced portrayal of a man afflicted by an unspeakable addiction. Brandon (Michale Fassbender) is a victim, a slave and also the puppeteer of his unflinching dependence on sex. He walks in and out of his daily existence with only one intent and purpose: to satisfy his carnal instincts as many times as possible, be it with a stranger, an office colleague, an acquaintance, a working girl, or simply by self-gratification. At office, his computer's hard drive is replete with images and clips encompassing every conceivable category of pornographic content. Back home, he's a regular at an online live-cam service. Also, the nooks and corners of his house and inconspicuous boxes in his closet act as hideaways for his bulky stash of magazines and other porno content. Brandon is not a pervert, not a sexual deviant and not a playboy either. He's simply making his ends meet, which happens to be of the most unconventional kind. His range of sources to indulge in his "debauchery" may paint him pervert. His inclination towards approaching any and every woman with the sole intention of sleeping with her may brand him as "sexual deviant". And the effortlessness with which he is able to pick up ladies and convince them, almost planting the notion in their head that they want to sleep with him, may compel some to call him a "playboy". But the overlooked truth here is that he is no different than the rest of us. Simply because he's biologically programmed to be what he is may make him a pariah in our "normal" society. But honestly, if this addiction were to be one of the conventional ailments, he wouldn't be looked down upon with utmost loathing. Simply put, he's just playing the game with the cards he has been dealt. This way of life is not a dilemma for him, not anymore. It's like being given an option of either suffocating to death or breathing through the thick, reeking waft of air that keeps you alive long enough. Brandon chooses the latter. Since he's almost incapable of seeing beyond a woman's body, he has never been in a relationship longer than few months. He's neither interested in committing to anything more nor is he longing for that human touch that would stem his devolution. His only objective is to live one day after another, making sure his desires are met, while everything else remains a perfunctory exercise. It's apparent right from the beginning that Brandon is in disgust of himself, but he just cannot tame his inner demons. His helplessness and the limits he is willing to cross is depicted very starkly in a scene at the end. Living a double life, Brandon has managed to maintain the delicate balance between being sociable and himself. But that balance is soon thrown in a complete disarray when his sister shows up unannounced at his doorstep.

Sissy (Carrey Muligan), a struggling singer, and a drifter, crashes at Brandon's place for a few days. Based on her desperation and a helpless demeanor, she seemed to have received the short end of the stick in love, and needs a temporary savior, in the form of her brother Brandon. It's obvious that both Brandon and Sissy don't share the same level of affection for one another, all they share are the same parents. It's not a typical love-hate relationship between siblings. Brandon, even though it disrupts his routine temporarily, is willing to help his sister out until she can stand back on her feet, again. Sissy loves his brother, but seem to remember him only when she's run through a grinder. But it's because of Brandon's nature of keeping people at an arm's length why Sissy doesn't keep in touch with her brother as often as she should. Brandon, obviously, chooses to remain distant from any and every relationship for the fear of his dark secret being revealed. But these two characters, with the potential of nullifying each others' weaknesses, finally come to a head. Brandon now has to walk the tightrope of protecting his sister from his true self while trying to quell his physical needs. Situations do get complicated and feelings are hurt, an onset resulting from Brandon's aberration coming to light. These circumstances put Brandon at a crossroad, forcing him to reassess the choices he has been making so far, and if he would like to continue to go down the same path, bringing pain to himself and his sister, probably the only person he truly cares for. Or if he can find in himself the strength to overcome his flaws and hang onto one string of hope, his sister, and the possibility of a more bearable tomorrow, albeit without being bogged down by his addiction. The movie seems to end on an uncertain note, leaving viewers to decide the ultimate fate of Brandon. If one can read the quandary in Brandon's eye in the last scene, one may be able to figure out what road he will finally take.

Steve McQueen brings a rare class to this unusual and a fascinating character study. His usual trope of focusing on the character, their conversation while myriad emotions brim to the surface, and making sure that all of these are captured in just one shot, is on display here throughout the movie. In his earlier movie "Hunger", one such scene stood out from the rest, where Fassbender's character recounts a murder scene, among other things, in a single 17-odd minute shot. In "Shame", there are countless such scenes, although not as long. The aim of having such long shots is to ensure the continuity of the scene, and the undercurrent of emotions within the characters and the scenario. The constant cuts, inclusive of dramatic close-ups, panning, and other camera movements bring an ounce of manipulative and artificial tone to the whole setup. Such a method is definitely not suited for a movie of this topic and caliber. The effect is palpable in the scene where Brandon is trying to reach someone as he has a bad feeling that because of his insensitivity, that person may now be hurt. He takes the lift to that person's apartment. Any other movie and any other director would've preferred to show Brandon's character enter the lift and then, straightaway, cut to the part where he steps out of the lift on the intended floor, while the importance of the scene is punctuated by some dramatic/tragic background score. But Steve McQueen belongs to a different breed of directors. He chooses to focus the camera on Brandon throughout the 10-15 seconds of the lift ride, emphasizing his desperation and the terrible horror he is anticipating once he reaches that person's place. The long tracking shot enables the viewer to go through the same set of feelings that Brandon is, involving us equally in the consequence of that eventuality. It's because of this brilliance in storytelling and other aspects that Steve McQueen has been able to achieve almost every possible reaction he was set out to while making this movie.

But the real star of the movie is Michael Fassbender. Firstly, it takes insurmountable guts to be able to play such a complex character, let alone playing it with such uncanny perfection. Fassbender captures all the fine details of Brandon's character with his every bat-of-the-eyelid, welling of his eyes, grin on his face, seductive and yet painful voice, and every twitch in his body. He breathes such life in this character that it is virtually impossible to imagine someone else do it as impeccably as him. Fassbender is blessed with the hard-to-crack countenance, exhibiting his character's lone, tough exterior that masks and protects his real nature. His superior ability to flesh out even the most questionable characters (like Magneto from 'X-Men: First Class') with his own distinctive shade and credibility, makes him one of the best and powerful actors in the whole world, at least for me.

Carrey Muligan (I adore her very much), complements Brandon's imperviousness with her bright, hopeful and yet sullen performance. The contrast is evident in an argument scene between the two characters. Brandon, resigned to his impenetrable behaviour, is lambasting Sissy for her clingy nature and her inability to look after herself, while feeling the constant need for someone's help every time she hits an emotional dead end in life. Mulligan manages to meet Fassbender's rugged and inconsiderate reprimand with a softer and vulnerable stance, soon breaking down like a baby but also assuring him of changing for the better, only if he's patient enough to help support her this time, at least emotionally. It's a heart-rending scene, made possible because of both the actors' bravura performances and skillful writing.

For an encumbered mind, "Shame" may not be an easy movie to watch. It requires suspension of beliefs and norms that conform to the artifice of society. It requires one to submit oneself completely to the possibility that despite the portrayed extreme nature of a human being, that person can still remain human, capable of being loved and cared for, and not beyond the point of redemption. The movie asks patience from you to sit through a tragic journey, while remaining thoughtful to the fact that Brandon's addiction is the cause of his wounds and also his ultimate salve. If you can conjure up the courage and an undogmatic approach towards this movie, it will definitely stun you and leave an everlasting impression of a sad tale and the brilliance that went in etching it on screen for others to become a part of it.

The Artist - One for the dying expression of...silence

Director: Michael Hazanavicius
Language: Silence and English
Release Year: 2011
Rating: * * * *

I’ve always held the belief that when it comes to movies, sound, dialogues and music are mere auxiliaries. The real soul of any movie is the story, followed by the way it’s captured on celluloid and the actors who enact it on screen. That is not to say that Talkies are not worthy of recognition. But I wouldn’t fret if movies were just moving pictures, briefly interrupted by intertitles (the technical word for onscreen texted dialogues) just to break the silence once in a while. For support of my claim and testament to the same, just watch Charlie Chaplin’s perpetually beautiful City Lights. Personally, I can do without the intertitles, too.

Now moving forward with the movie in question, The Artist. The story takes place when Hollywood was basking in the glory of silent movies. People were in awe of the moving-picture technology, and Hollywood was manufacturing stories of grand proportion to keep the masses hooked to this technology. The demand for fantasy and the supply of manipulated stories of grandeur, thrills, love, tragedies and the ubiquitous happy endings, kept both the sides happy and coming for more. George Valentini (Jean Dujardin), the protagonist, is the decorated cog in this machinery. People love him, ladies are mesmerized by him and he’s aware of it. He never misses a beat to hog the limelight, in fact, the limelight follows him and he never disappoints it. In that era, he’s the life and soul of silent movies. As is the case even now, people paid to come and see him, the star, rather than movie he was a part of. The appreciation, the admiration, the fame, has left an indelible mark of pride on him. He can’t shake that off, which becomes the instrument of his decline later in the movie. He’s married to an ageing housewife, with whom he shares the same real estate, but not his feelings, not anymore. Evidently, their marriage is hanging by a thread. Neither of the party is willing to take the initiative to break the monotony of silence between them. Their marriage is disintegrating, and this is made clear by the fact that George prefers dining out with his loyal driver (James Cromwell), rather than his own wife. Maybe it’s the age, maybe it’s the misplaced sense of priorities, maybe it’s the stagnancy of their, now, loveless marriage, maybe it’s all of the above in varying proportions. The fact of the matter is, their marriage is inconsequential to the entire proceedings in the movie, and is handled merely as a passing reference. It does add few syllables to describing the character of George, though.

Soon enters Ms. Peppy Miller (Berenice Bejo ), an aspiring actress. Enamored by the glitz, glamor and the dangling carrot called fame, she tries her luck, and soon hits paydirt. But before that, she runs into George during a photo-shoot, and sparks fly at both ends. It’s no secret that like everyone else, she, too, is infatuated with this larger-than-life personality of George. It doesn’t take too much frame-time for this infatuation to blossom into something much softer. Those feelings, however, are sidetracked for a brief moment, while she and her ambition take the tinsel town by storm, albeit gradually. She climbs the ladder of movie roles, from extras that blend in the crowd, to characters making brief appearances, to supporting actors, and finally, to the name that hoards much of the space on the poster. She now shares the same celebrity status that George has been wearing on his sleeve all this long. But a change in the smooth flow is inevitable, and it goes by the name “Talkies”.

The Hollywood recognizes the need of the hour, and prepares for the transition. Everyone boards the “Talkies” bandwagon, except George Valentin. He’s steadfast in his belief that Talkies is not the future, and scoffs at anyone preaching that, which happens to be everyone in this case. George is stuck in the era gone by. Pride washes him over, and he decides to take on the entire Hollywood industry and the technology of Talkies. He decides to make a silent movie, one that would steamroll the Talkies. He goes all in, invests every ounce and penny he has to make the movie of his life. However, I disagree that there’s only pride that gets George engulfed in obscurity and anonymity. I somehow believe that he has such faith in his art-form, such devotion towards the work he does, and trusts his fan following so much, that he has somehow deluded himself in playing the game with just one card. At the opposite end of the spectrum, is Ms. Peppy Miller. She’s more than happy to go with the flow, which brings her the desired recognition, fortune and glory. She understands and recognizes the fact that ultimately, it’s the audience that decides where the industry goes, and what is the next big thing. Her adaptation to these changing times is what keeps her from becoming irrelevant and forgotten, unlike George. While George’s name starts to fade and fade rapidly, Peppy becomes a household name, dancing on everyone’s lips and in everyone’s imagination. From this point on, it’s the industry and the world against George’s hubris and single-minded approach towards his life and profession. The climax is almost anybody’s guess, but it’s the journey wherein lies the pleasure.

I don’t know if it’s just me, but the moment I saw Jean, somehow Clark Gable’s name flooded my senses. It’s as if the latter had embodied this French actor. The comparison only goes to show how brilliant Jean was in his role. He exudes charm, panache, and immeasurable magnetism. Those little smirks, the free-flowing gait, the beguiling smile enhanced further by those pencil-trimmed moustache, they all reminded me of the actors of yesteryear, Clark Gable in particular, to reiterate. Jean’s portrayal of a personality, who’s consumed by his work and his self-importance, was a delight worthy of reveling in time and again. Penny Miller was adorable to say the least. Her depiction of Penny’s ingenuousness in the early parts of the movie was as guileless and innocent as they come. Her transformation into a star and the befitting nuances she adopts to portray that character without losing that inherent innocence is a pleasure to watch. Although her character doesn’t have too much bearing on the movie’s story, I always welcomed her presence. There’s once scene where she plays with George’s suit. Even though the scene lasts for about a minute, it’s beautifully rendered, and Penny’s expression underscores her longing for George’s character.

This film goes to show the diversity of the director’s (Michael Hazanvicius) repertoire. I mostly remember him for his spy-spoofs from the “OSS 117” franchise. There is a hint of humor in this movie as well, but it’s mostly synonymous to the upbeat nature of the story in the first part of the movie. The movie quickly devolves into somberness and tragedy, which the director handles with an astonishing grip. It takes a great amount of confidence and bravura to produce a silent movie in the era of mind-numbing 3D gimmick, where music scores overwhelm the volumes that silence speak, and where a string of dialogues are mostly treated as a mandatory chain that links two sequences of mindless action. In the end, the movie is a sheer treat in simple, no-nonsense film-making. The approach is fundamentally sound, the story is straight-forward enough that it doesn’t get lost in translation. The characters are likable, believable and which you’d like to root for, and the actors playing them leave you desiring for more. A simple and a heartwarming tale of the identity lost in ego, the learning curve one passes by while salvaging what’s left, and the eventual comeuppance. Inadvertently, the movie, to me at least, is also a statement of what really matters in a movie, but mostly gets overlooked by the masses and adorned by classes in these times of extensive technological aberration the art of storytelling is subjected to. But that is for another day. For now, this gem comes highly recommended.