Shame vs Somewhere

The portrayal of addiction in movies is a tricky one, because there’s always an equator to cross between, His life looks like fun. I think I could handle it. and Whoa. That would kill me. In Shame, it takes about ten minutes. Brandon (Michael Fassbender) lives a life of such risk, mentally and physically, that nearly every scene seems to put his life in danger, even when no logical danger is imminent. Brandon lives a life of cool efficiency. His apartment is pristine, with everything in stainless steel, and decorated in whites, grays and blues, a scheme duplicated in his wardrobe. Brandon is modern and industrial, like he’s part of the city, and not just one of its inhabitants. In a fantasy setting, Brandon could be Bruce Wayne, or Patrick Bateman. In a way, he’s both. Brandon is smart, successful and charming, but he’s also nearly crippled by an addiction to sex. In the initial moments, I thought, yeah, looks fun, I can handle that. By the end of the first twenty-four hours of Shame’s story, I had changed my tune.

Shame is the second collaboration between Michael Fassbender and director Steve McQueen. Their first, Hunger, was the true story of IRA members hunger-striking in prison. It’s a harrowing experience; you can practically smell the dank cells. So I didn’t go into Shame expecting No Strings Attached (which claims to only have sex on the brain, but can’t focus). Even with a warning, I was taken aback by Shame’s emotional frankness. I know the buzz of the movie is its sexual frankness, and that’s there as well, although not as much as you’d think. Fassbender and his various partners (mainly prostitutes), are indeed shown naked from all angles, but camera cuts away from, or zooms too close to, the action, so that we’re seeing less than we think. This tactic is most effectively used in a three-way scene in which the camera, rather than stepping back and showing us everything, pushes up close, so close that it’s practically a four-way with the viewer involved. Brandon’s life is exhausting for him physically (his workday is punctuated by Red Bull, the full-sugar kind. Pervert.), but also emotionally. He exhibits a cool, charming persona amongst strangers, allowing him to put some non-prostitute notches in his bedpost. The persona cracks some when Brandon is in the presence of what I call rookies. His boss (James Badge Dale) is an obvious, clumsy flirt, of the Entourage/Axe school of ladykilling. Brandon is meticulous, noticing eye color and showing an interest beyond sex, even though he has not one single interest beyond sex. Another rookie, of a different sort, is Brandon’s sister, Sissy (Carey Mulligan). Sissy breezes into Brandon’s life so casually, I assumed she was an ex-girlfriend. We’re first introduced to her in a series of increasingly agitated voicemails, and then she appears one day, in Brandon’s shower. It’s clear these sort of visits happen once in a while, when Sissy’s recovering from a break-up, or when she needs money. She’s only tentatively welcome in Brandon’s house. He doesn’t want her there when he’s not there, and he wants her to move back out quickly. Sissy is humored by Brandon, and gives him shit about his stuffy lifestyle, but she also has genuine sisterly affection for him. There’s a shorthand for sorting out their personalities. Sissy is loud and impulsive. She wears bright colors. She’s emotional and hyper. She drinks from the carton. Sissy says she has a gig in town, eliciting skepticism in both Brandon and me. But sure enough, she has a job singing in a nice club above a hotel. She sings New York, New York slowly, as if it’s a lullaby. McQueen keeps the camera on Mulligan for long stretches of time, as she sings the entire song, beautifully. By the end, Brandon is crying a little, which is bound to be an uncommon occurrence.

The bulk of Shame involves Brandon pursuing his life of sexual addiction (it’s like he has three jobs. The night shift is the roughest.), while trying to maintain his immaculate, secret life at home without too much interference from Sissy. I can see how this might play out differently in a comedy, and to be certain, Shame has its share of funny run-ins and misunderstandings. But for the most part, it’s a serious, cold, compelling story that raises as many questions as it answers. Brandon and Sissy obviously have a dark past we aren’t fully privy to. Their conversations are often shot as if to camouflage something. One will be in motion while the other is still, or one will turn away from the other. In the most interesting, revealing scene featuring Brandon and Sissy, McQueen keeps the camera behind them, and doesn’t cut away for the extent of their conversation. Shame is full of long, lingering takes, the best of which is a date between Brandon and a woman from work (Nicole Beharie). They’ve circled each other on the job, but are having dinner for the first time. Their conversation is light, but also personal, and there’s an obvious chemistry beyond the sexual. There’s also a tension; Brandon seems nervous, younger. What would a relationship look like in Brandon’s world? There’s no doubt he’s considering the consequences throughout dinner.

Shame is skillfully directed by McQueen. His eye for color and framing in terms of characterization is truly impressive, and I’m guessing, economical. The minimalist sets and costumes aid in storytelling in ways that other directors should, and too often don’t, consider. And the script, by McQueen and Abi Morgan, pushes the boundaries enough to earn its NC-17, but not just through nudity. There’s an adult tone to the entire movie that I appreciated. Could you take out the nudity and present Shame as PG-13? No. The true jolt the movie delivers isn’t in the bedroom (or the alley, or the back room of a club, or up against a dumpster, or standing over the sink, or in the men’s room stall, or pressed against a window, or sitting at a computer). When Shame truly delivers, it’s because of the beautiful, layered performances of Michael Fassbender and Carey Mulligan. Fassbender, obviously, takes on the bulk of Shame’s challenges, and gives what I think is the most impressive performance this year. Brandon is pathetic, maybe, but he’s no villain. His life is sad and stressful, but he does whatever he can to keep the majority of the victimization on himself, rather than anyone he encounters. Fassbender keeps that on screen at all times. Brandon does some horrible things, and suffers for them, but I never felt his actions or problems made him pathetic. Would I want to hang out with him? Well no, but it’s not like he’s got the time anyway.

Somewhere is another tale of a man set into a dangerous routine, interrupted by the visit of a female relative. It’s visually lush, well-acted, and like Shame, polarizing for viewers. Somewhere is the most recent film by Sofia Coppola, and the one that turned some of her public against her. It tells a story that at first, I envied, but by the end knew I couldn’t handle.

Stephen Dorff plays an actor named Johnny Marco. Is there anything harder than coming up with believable fake movie star and rock star names? Like you’d never name an actor “Dorff”, even though that’s obviously a realistic choice. Anyway.

Johnny is staying at the Chateau Marmont. Actually, it appears that he’s living there. He’s in the midst of a junket for his latest film (his costar, Michelle Monaghan, is unimpressed), and leaves his room periodically for photocalls and the like. Otherwise, he just lounges around his room, getting visits from a stripper duo, who set up poles in his bedroom and put on little shows. They’re only slightly less bored than Johnny. Why does he order them up if he’s just going to nod off in bed while they dance? I suppose he used to get a charge from it, and it became such a routine to throw money at strippers, he just kept at it, even once the thrill was gone.

Enter Johnny’s daughter, Cleo (Elle Fanning). Cleo is sweet and smart, and gives Johnny, and the movie, an energy not present before. They swim, and go for drives, and he sits in on her skating lesson (in a nice juxtaposition to the stripper scenes). They also start to domesticate a little, cooking meals and hanging out with Sammy (Chris Pontius), the closest member of Johnny’s entourage (it’s never absolutely clear if Sammy is a relative or not. He comes across like an uncle to Cleo, but also as someone who doesn’t know her). These scenes are the most vibrant in Somewhere, and the most necessary. Fanning and Pontius are so funny and at ease, that they bring out a natural charisma in Johnny that was lacking before. When he’s just shuffling around his hotel room, there’s no sign that this guy could be a movie star. It’s only when we see Johnny in relation to other people that it becomes clearer what the big deal might have been about him in the first place.

And that’s it. Somewhere is largely silent, and like Shame, built up of long, lingering takes. The cinematography is lovely, the soundtrack is good, and as you’ve likely heard, not much happens. I’ve joked that I liked Somewhere because I still love staying in hotels. I mean, don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t want to live in one forever.

Shame: A

Somewhere: B-