ADDED TO 'GREATEST FAVORITES': Shame (2011)

Directed by Steve McQueen

For me, the most powerful moment in Shame comes in about halfway through. Brandon is in a moment of beautiful intimacy with a coworker, a woman who has taken a liking to him. The sex they are sharing is not the depressingly cold and mechanical sex that Brandon is used to indulging in. For what seems like the first time in his life (and it may very well be, for all we know), he is mutually sharing genuinely warm, personal, and passionate intercourse. It is because of this that he ceases going any further with the encounter. She leaves, confining Brandon in his shame before abruptly cutting to aggressive, meaningless sex with a total stranger only moments later. It is at this point when we truly realize the tragedy Brandon is trapped in. He is incapable of emotionally connecting with a fellow human being.

Shame, the sophomore effort from Steve McQueen, is one of the finest dramas of the 21^st Century, earning a spot in my top 10 films of the decade. Though light as far as plot is concerned, it makes up for this in its mastery of observance of the emotions and psychology that underline certain human behaviors. Like the greatest of dramatic films, we are only permitted to bear witness to a certain chapter of its subjects’ lives – context, as far as what happened to them prior and where they’re going after it’s over, is completely irrelevant here.

From an outsider’s perspective, Brandon (Michael Fassebender) is perhaps the ultimate Lady’s Man. He’s a hunk of a man, complete with handsome face, great hair, and a tightly fit body, both of which he maintains and grooms meticulously. Additionally, he’s got a nice condo to himself, funded by a good job. To top it all off, he’s a man of few words, which gives off a vibe of alluring enigma. In turn, he has little to no issue picking up women: it can take this man literally no words to get a woman to join him in between the bedsheets.  To that outsider, he hasn’t mastered the art of picking up women; it’s simply second nature. That outsider might be envious beyond belief and ask Brandon for all of his tips and tactics. What they cannot possibly understand is that Brandon’s effortless sexual escapades are not a quality or an advantage. They are his greatest burden. 

Whether at work, at home, or on the street, Brandon must achieve orgasm of some kind, preferably with another person. At work, where his computer is getting a virus removed as a result of internet pornography, he must resort to masturbating in the bathroom stall if he can’t take the time off for a prostitute. And then there’s his off-time, where he’s free to scour the clubs and bars for his next orgasmic encounter, or he can just stay home and indulge all of the porn in his possession. Is he content living this way? Well, he doesn’t much talk to anybody alone, let alone about his sex life, but his face during the act doesn’t exhibit much pleasure. But, hey, at least he’s free to indulge all he wants. 

I have no desire or intention of judging Brandon's sexual pursuits exclusively. Yes, sex is a pleasurable and lovely experience to share with another person, so much so that we are always on the prowl for the next encounter, to the point of being a borderline necessity. Is this our own instincts driving this seemingly insatiable hunger for coitus, or some sort of societal pressure? I'm not sure, and the movie is not terribly concerned with this. Regardless, though, Brandon still becomes a brilliant obliteration of the so-called "ideal" of being an unstoppable sex machine.

Shame was rated NC-17, primarily for its blunt portrayal of physical sex, yet there is only one scene that I would say is erotic. This is the scene I talked about to open this piece, and how interesting that the encounter doesn't culminate. From this point, the sex scenes go from a sterile and mechanical tone to more and more tragic. In a climactic scene (now, now), Brandon is engaged in three-way sex. Enticing, yes, but the focus is always on Brandon. The closer he reaches orgasm, the more pain we see in his face. Once again, obliteration of the perceived ideal: in the most enticing sex in the movie is where we see Brandon in his deepest and most agonizing shame.

Something like a plot develops with the introduction of Sissy (Carey Mulligan), Brandon's sister. She unexpectedly barges into Brandon's apartment, as well as his life. She needs a place to stay, which seems to be indefinite for now. Brandon makes it perfectly clear to both the audience as well as Sissy that he doesn’t want her there, placing the secrets Brandon has tucked away out there in the open. In spite of his contempt, there’s a mutual level of comfort that very few relationships share, let alone with siblings. Both characters are confronted by the other naked, in close quarters. In these moments, though, they don’t seem to be repulsed by their nude sibling. A phone message from Sissy at the film’s final act suggests a traumatic upbringing – perhaps even sexual abuse. Shame wisely avoids any backstory. After all, the past is the past – what matters here is the present.

I saw Shame in theaters in January of 2012. I had seen Michael Fassbender in the movies from time to time, but it was with Shame that I really took notice. Brandon is a very quiet and self-conscious man, no doubt to keep his lifestyle away from public view. Fassbender may not have much to vocally say, but what he lacks in voice he makes up for ten-fold in insinuation. We can read every thought just from the subtlety in his eyes and facial expressions. Take, for instance, an early scene when he is flirting with a fellow subway passenger. These two don't say a single word to each other, and we barely know anything about Brandon's person. He's extremely minimal and subtle in his expressions, but we know very well what he's after. If only the Oscars were more welcoming of NC-17 films.

Shame walks a number of tight and narrow lines that are easy to fall from. The subject matter alone may be greeted with juvenile snickering, if they haven’t been repulsed at the idea of Brandon already. But then there’s Brandon himself, man whose coldness makes him difficult to like. Writer-director McQueen knows exactly how to portray this character, avoiding making him a predator or serial rapist, or any other such melodrama and clichés. It’s difficult to imagine such a person exists, let alone to believe that such a lifestyle be unpleasurable to the one living it, and Shame makes the subject very real (contrary to, say, von Trier’s Nymphomaniac). As cold a character McQueen as written in Brandon, he does not look on with judgment or condemnation; he is very sympathetic with his subjects.

The city that the characters of Shame inhabit is unwelcoming in one of the most unusual ways I’ve seen yet in a film. It is not gritty with urban decay, but rather it is strangely sterile. Yes, everything is very orderly and well-lit, but there’s a complete lack of any kind of life. The streets are noticeably empty. There’s no flair to the walls and décor, as if the city has as big a secret to hide as Brandon does.

In almost every synopsis and review I’ve come across for Shame, my peers are quick to call Brandon a sex addict without batting an eye. And then there’s me. Though I use the term for the sake of argument, I must admit that I’m not comfortable with it. Aside from believing the label is a means of stigmatizing what the powers that be deem “immoral”, I think it is more appropriate to view Brandon’s insatiable need for orgasm as a symptom.

When I came across a post from Psych Central entitled Compulsive Masturbation: The Secret Sexual Disorder, the puzzle of Brandon’s psyche begins to make a bit more sense: “Because many individuals view sexual self-stimulation as shameful, dirty, or sinful, those who engage in the practice compulsively are unlikely to discuss it with others, even a therapist. If and when a compulsive masturbator does seek help, he or she is unlikely to do so for his/her sexual acting out. Instead, that individual is far more likely to report anxiety, depression, feelings of loneliness and isolation, and the inability (or lack of desire) to form intimate relationships with other people.” Brandon rarely masturbates in the film, yes, but when he does engage in sex with a fellow person, does that person really exist as a human being in Brandon’s experience?

After all is said and done, though, is Brandon a bad person? Some will certainly say yes. On the surface, maybe, but overall, I don’t think so. He’s simply a man who has been confined in his own world for far too long, to the point that his abilities to interact with people and the outside world have been warped. The climactic third act exhibits that he is able to care for a fellow person, but the film ends just around that point. Will Brandon come out a better person? Will he be redeemed? We’ll never know, but to borrow a clichéd phrase, it is always darkest before dawn.