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Shame


 

Shame

I didn’t especially “like” this film when I saw it early in the festival, so I’ve resisted adding it the list. Until now. Although it’s superbly crafted, and powered by a brave, impeccable and award-winning performance from Michael Fassbender, I found Shame incredibly cold and bleak and passionless. Like American Psycho or Cronenberg’s Crash—without the wit or the satire. And Carey Mulligan’s role as Fassbender’s sister felt cruelly under-developed. But Steve McQueen’s graphic portrait of man addicted to pornography and emotion-free sex has become the most talked about movie at TIFF for a reason. It’s a film that I can’t get out of my head: it keeps arguing with my reactions to it. So I’ve come to accept that what turned me off about Shame at the time is precisely what has made it so effective. When I walked out of the screening, I thought, “Well there’s a movie I won’t want to see again!” Now I think I might have to.


 
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