At this point, is there really much left to be said about Martin Scorsese? Quibbles over his lone Best Director Oscar success aside, no-one has been of greater importance to American cinema over the last fifty years, and only a few brave (and wrong) souls would suggest otherwise. He was at the forefront of the New Hollywood movement that emerged in the seventies and revitalised the film industry; whilst many of his contemporaries squandered their talent in the intervening years, he has stayed not just relevant, but frequently excellent too. Shutter Island stands as further testament to his skill as a director, and to his unparalleled understanding of the medium of cinema.
Adapted from the Dennis Lehane novel of the same name, U.S. Marshal Teddy Daniels (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his partner Chuck Aule (Mark Ruffalo) are called to investigate a seemingly unexplainable disappearance at Ashecliff Hospital for the criminally insane, located on Shutter Island. It soon becomes clear that all is not as it seems; interviews with staff and patients alike leave Teddy and Chuck wondering what exactly is taking place on the island, and head psychiatrist Dr. John Cawley (Ben Kingsley) seems keen to prevent them from learning the truth.
We experience the narrative through the eyes of Teddy, and DiCaprio should be praised for another superb performance in a Scorsese-helmed film; he perfectly captures the mental scarring that defines the character. Teddy was one of the US soldiers who helped to liberate the Dachau concentration camp; indeed, he is still traumatised by those memories, which frequently exhibit themselves in the form of dreams and nightmares, which are expressed as striking visual sequences that help transform the film into a waking nightmare from which Teddy cannot escape, much like the island itself.
Elsewhere, everyone else holds up their end of the bargain. Mark Ruffalo - who frequently gets cast in officer-of-the-law roles - offers consistency in the face of partner DiCaprio's increasingly erratic behaviour, doing his best to reign Teddy in but overwhelmed by the force of his personality. Ben Kingsley's performance, meanwhile, is also pitched perfectly, as restrained as it needs to be, with seemingly malevolent undertones that lend his character the necessary air of ambiguity; the audience doubts his motives, without having any compelling reason to do so.
Considering that suspense is so important to the film, the amount of
direct visual references to Alfred Hitchcock to be found are entirely appropriate. The greatest compliment you can pay
Shutter Island is that it is worthy of comparison to the films it homages. The tension levels keep on rising as the uncertainty surrounding Ashecliff keep the audience guessing, and some of the settings in which the action unfolds perfectly heighten the mood.
It is not, however, a perfect film; the ending stretches suspension of disbelief to breaking point. It does hold up, but it also strains credibility. I wanted to accept it unequivocally, out of love for everything that preceded it, but it stands as an example of an unlovable brand of narrative trickery, that being twists of the "everything you thought you knew is wrong" variety, which are just as often liable to leave the audience feeling cheated rather than awestruck, and whilst it didn't rile me
as much as it did Guardian film critic Peter Bradshaw, I share some of his misgivings. That said, the final scene is truly excellent.
Critical response to the film has so far been quite varied; Peter Bradshaw's review aside, there are several others which merit interest. Kate Muir's description of the film as
sub-Tarantino is so far wide of the mark I'm not convinced she's ever even
seen a Quentin Tarantino film, but her point about the evocation of the Holocaust seeming out of place is certainly one worth discussion; the A.V. Club offer a much more interesting comparison to another filmmaker when
citing Park Chan-wook; and Moving Pictures (full disclosure: written by a friend of mine)
offers the perspective of someone able to discuss Scorsese's achievement having read Lehane's novel.
