Shame

SHAME is one helluva movie, transposing the life of a sad, animalistic man against the supposed order of the great city. Brandon (Michael Fassbender) plays a chronic sex addict. He masturbates in the shower, has a disgusting hard drive filled with terms some people don't even recognize, and fucks anyone he can. Luckily for Brandon, that "anyone" is usually someone pretty attractive. I wonder what director Steve McQueen's film would have looked like without any glamour. Instead, this is a pretty glamorized film, featuring many scenes of Fassbender eye-fucking women on the train, the streets, the bars. But, once again, almost in defiant surprise, McQueen's contradictory glamorizations don't ruin the film. As in HUNGER, SHAME concerns itself with a disgusting topic through the lens of high art, and it still ends up working. I think this is because McQueen is tapping into a desire of ours to see such things through such lenses. I don't think this is a deplorable action, actually, because if we see these things through such lenses, our responses to them must be judged under the same lens. Brandon is extremely charismatic, and he exists at the polestar of sex, putting his co-workers to shame. The film is not as it has been billed: a film about the state of sex addiction, but more like: what can it be? what must it be? It's a dreamier approach, but because Brandon is such a symbol, we can respond to him in that fashion. It's sort of a sad but brilliant way to approach things, and it works.

Shame: ★★★★