Melancholia (Lars Von Trier, 2011)

The idea of the world ending could be interesting, if I cared about any of the people in that world. I don’t. Kirsten Dunst’s Justine (though well-acted) is a lazy, privileged depressed young woman who sucks everyone around her into her vortex of pain. Charlotte Gainsbourg (typically sour-pussed) plays her co-dependent sister, Claire. Claire is so used to enabling and cleaning up after Justine that she doesn’t know how to begin to have a life of her own. Kiefer Sutherland very nearly steals this movie, as the only reasonable character, Claire’s husband John. His comic response to discovering that he has been wrong all along--the planets are colliding--is almost worth the remaining three hours of torture. John Hurt, Charlotte Rampling, Alexander Skarsgard and Stellan Skarsgard prove nothing more than that Lars Von Trier has a supernatural ability to lure A-list actors into his poorly-written, egocentric fantasies. 

Von Trier structures the narrative as a two-act. The first act (“Justine”) introduces us to Justine, her path of destruction and the beautiful, pristine world she and her family inhabit but don’t appreciate. She barely tolerates her own lavish wedding, then deliberately sabotages her brand-new marriage. The second act is titled “Claire”, but focuses on the approaching newly discovered planet Melancholia and whether or not it will collide with Earth. The location, art direction and costumes are breathtaking. The shots of Melancholia, in particular, are a truly exquisite and appropriate use of CGI. If only the writing justified all the effort. It’s not that the movie has no substance or message--it does. Von Trier is trying to depict depression and its effects through the metaphor of Earth’s destruction. Justine, as a person who always feels shitty, doesn’t get too worked up about the actual end of the world. 

Von Trier sabotages his own movie (much like Justine does to her marriage) by indulging in a masturbatory exercise in being LARS VON TRIER. His characters are smothered by his own ego. They are banal, spoiled, irritating people who are impossible to invest in. At one point, when the collision is imminent, Claire tries to escape to “the village”. I found myself saying, “Yes, please. Escape to the village so we can see how some real people are handling this crisis.” Udo Kier, as the wedding planner, sums up my feelings best when he refuses to look at Justine and says, “She ruined my wedding. She’s dead to me.” 

Shame (Steve McQueen, 2011)

Steve McQueen’s Shame received a lot of attention for the wrong reasons. Its NC-17 rating, mature subject matter and full frontal male nudity gave critics, audiences and industry insiders so much to talk about that they all missed the point: Shame is a brilliant film.

Brandon is a young, successful New York professional with a dirty little secret--he is addicted to sex. Our introduction to Brandon is almost comical. Without saying a word, he can easily seduce a beautiful stranger on the subway or in a bar. These chance encounters aren’t enough to feed Brandon’s addiction, however. He requires daily doses of porn, prostitutes and masturbation to keep his demons at bay. Every other aspect of Brandon’s life is carefully ordered and controlled. He lives alone in an expensive apartment that is so uncluttered and devoid of any personality it resembles an upscale doctor’s office.

Brandon’s sense of order and routine is disrupted when his sister, Sissy (Carey Mulligan), intrudes. After Brandon ignores Sissy’s initial attempts at reconnecting, he comes home one evening to find her in his shower. She (completely nude) begs him for a place to stay and he begrudgingly agrees. This is where Brandon’s compartmentalization of his life begins to erode. Sissy is such a polar opposite to Brandon that I initially wondered if she was an invented alter-ego, much like Tyler Durden in Fight Club.  

Where Brandon is responsible, Sissy is reckless. He is clean; she is messy. He is measured; she is impulsive. Contrasts abound, but the most important one is that while  human connection terrifies Brandon, Sissy throws herself headfirst into relationships, becoming clingy and needy. An unspeakable incident in their shared past has left both of them irrevocably damaged, but the damage manifests itself in different ways. McQueen is wise to leave the incident unspoken--its horror is stronger when it can only be imagined. Interacting with Sissy reminds Brandon of his buried trauma, sending his addiction spiraling out of control.

Sean Bobbit’s use of blue/gray filters and static long takes reflect Brandon’s coldness and detachment.. He has created a life in which he is totally self-sufficient. The one long tracking shot of Brandon running through the city is riveting. McQueen’s challenge with this film was to create a male sex addict who doesn’t come off as a misogynistic pig. It’s to his credit (and certainly Fassbender’s) that we feel more empathy for Brandon than revulsion. Fassbender and Mulligan inhabit these siblings with palatable pain and fear. There is real chemistry and a sense of history between them, as well. 

It’s hard not to compare Shame to McQueen’s earlier collaboration with Fassbender, Hunger. Both are character studies, although Hunger has political implications, while Shame is highly personal. Both are infused with realism in the form of Fassbender’s tremendous acting talent and both are centered around basic human needs; in one film the denial of that need and the other, the absolute surrender to it. 

With Shame, McQueen achieves the near-impossible. He not only de-glamorizes sex in a sex-obsessed culture, but strips away judgement to humanize an addiction that is often the butt of jokes. Shame is not an “issue” film, but a fascinating depiction of a man who is working through his pain in the only way he knows how.