Shame

Prowling the streets of New York, looking for anyone willing to satiate his thirst for sex, single-minded Brandon (Michael Fassbender) devours nearly every frame of Steve McQueen's addiction drama Shame. And Fassbender, whose performance in McQueen's 2008 debut feature Hunger marked the major launching point of his career, is definitely up for the task. He delivers a taut, wiry performance that guides the movie down progressively darker alleys of experience. Brandon is a nice, likable guy in many ways, thanks mainly to Fassbender's unbreakable charisma, but he's also a deeply damaged man with no desire to face his demons. He just wants to keep his nice, tidy routine in check. In complementary fashion, McQueen allows the narrative to unfold in a seemingly natural manner, which leaves Brandon to indulge his desires often and without remorse.

McQueen establishes the raw reality of Brandon's sex addiction by reducing Brandon's onscreen life to little more than work, porn, and meaningless sex with any woman who crosses his path (either through an escort service or a chance meeting in a bar). We never see Brandon engage in much else and we don't know much about his situation, either. He lives in a cushy apartment in Manhattan, listens to music a lot, goes jogging on occasion, and that's about it for non-sexual activities. Brandon doesn't seem to have any friends, which isn't too surprising given that relationships aren't really his thing. He does have a few drinks with his boss (James Badge Dale) from time to time, but even such harmless socializing is essentially yet another reminder of how great a womanizer Brandon is and that other men don't stand a chance when he's around.

Everything about Brandon's carefully tuned life is designed to fit his addiction and he seems to be getting by just fine. But then his sister Sissy (Carey Mulligan) shows up and threatens to ruin everything. A self-destructive natural disaster whose heart appears to have been broken so many times it won't ever mend again, Sissy craves contact with her solitary brother. Brandon wants none of it, but she settles down in his apartment anyway and Brandon can't bring himself to toss her out. The siblings have a strange, strained relationship and McQueen slices open past wounds with perilous precision. With Sissy in the picture, it is clear that Brandon's internal conflict can no longer be ignored.

He tries to work around Sissy's presence, but she's everywhere and apparently has no concept of personal space. Brandon becomes increasingly infuriated, but a combination of Sissy's prying eyes and her own emotional issues that act as a mirror end up forcing Brandon to begin doubting his chosen life path. And so he tries to clean up his act, going so far as to even attempt a first date with an intriguing co-worker (Nicole Beharie). Brandon's decision to face his addiction and his subsequent struggle to form a meaningful connection with someone, anyone, becomes a focal point of the movie. Fassbender illustrates the slow, tortured transformation with engaging authenticity. He feels his way through each attempt at change and he finds subtlety around every corner.

Throughout Brandon's journey, McQueen wisely shrouds the character's backstory in mystery. Sissy's participation hints at something dark and dismal in their shared past, but we're on our own about what that past really is. It's a smart move, because making excuses for Brandon's behaviour would be counterproductive to the story. We don't need to know much about Brandon's past, because how Brandon reached this point isn't what matters. Brandon is here now and the question is whether or not he can crawl out of his dark space and let some light, some love into his life. Sissy has similar problems and the siblings make a depressing pair of basket cases. Mulligan is every bit as brave and brilliant as Fassbender and their combined talent is what makes Shame succeed. The two performances are eerie and exact and exceptional.

Holding it all together is McQueen, who still favours long takes and elaborately executed tracking shots. His directorial approach remains somewhat clinical and so Shame doesn't quite hit an effective emotional note in time for the credits to roll. Where the narrative ends up seems rather obvious and McQueen's desire to provide a moral message is honourable, though a little too eager. But his confident composition and steady hand provide a uniquely chilly space within which Fassbender and Mulligan can generate exquisite energy. Their performances power the movie and define the depths of their characters, two people on the verge of losing everything. Brandon and Sissy repel people and especially each other, but they never alienate us.

It's all because of the two performances and the faith that McQueen exhibits in his cast. He lets them roam through their own personal hells, so their experiences don't feel forced or limited to specific paths. Each character must face their own fears, addictions, and shortcomings on their own terms. Each actor makes it believable. But first and foremost, this is Brandon's story and Michael Fassbender's movie. Shame pulls back the sheets and stares straight into the void that is sex addiction, showing us just how removed from the emotional fabric of society Brandon really is. It's a dangerous position to be in right from the start, but Fassbender doesn't waste a moment of his performance. His effect on us is the complete opposite of his character's effect on people. He pulls us in, rather than pushing us away. It's a meaningful approach that may just lead to a whole new addiction.