Shame

Affirming his status as Daniel Day-Lewis’ heir apparent—handsome, magnetic, intense, yet versatile and fearless—Michael Fassbender reunites with McQueen, who directed him in the superb 2008 debut feature Hunger. Again, Fassbender leaves nothing in reserve. To colleagues and outside observers, he presents the image of a stone-cut corporate raider, extremely well put-together, and enjoying the spoils of a tomcatting Manhattan bachelor. Yet each day is about getting to the next sexual encounter—whether that means one-night stands, high-priced escorts, or furious masturbation sessions in public bathrooms or in front of his porn-choked laptop. He attempts to change his habits, and starts dating a lovely woman (Nicole Beharie) from the office, but reform proves difficult, particularly once his equally disturbed sister (Carey Mulligan) turns up and brings the past with her.

Shame plays coy with the specific traumas that plague Fassbender and Mulligan, but even before McQueen stages a key scene between them with a cartoon running in the background, it’s clear that they’re as needy and vulnerable as children. An extended close-up of Mulligan crooning a mesmerizingly sad rendition of “New York, New York” lays bare their ill-fated attempts to find another life. McQueen is a showy director, but his bravura long takes have the effect of heightened attentiveness, allowing scenes to build in intensity without the relief of a cut. What comes through isn’t the lookie-me direction, but a prevailing sense of Fassbender’s panic, distractedness, and intense self-loathing, all revealed through the camera’s unblinking eye. Where the character lacks dimension, it may be because he’s long been a slave to his addiction.

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