Shame on Steve McQueen (No spoilers)

Is it me, or are the majority of movie critics out there real-life examples of The Emperor's New Clothes?

Given that Shame is on almost every well-respected -and, more importantly, non-respected- critics' top ten list for 2011, I decided that was enough motivation to get me to leave the comfort of my warm apartment and brave the one mile Iditarod from Hoboken to Manhattan's artsy "cinema nouveau" section, where I hear they're actually crazy enough to show movies that get an NC-17 rating.

First, let me say, Michael Fassbender is terrific as Brandon Sullivan, hopeless sex addict extraordinaire. No one could have gotten as much from that role as he did. And Carey Mulligan is quite compelling, herself, as Sissy, Brandon's lost and confused sister. Now, off with McQueen's head.

I think I would've liked the movie a lot more had I completely missed the first hour. Maybe it's me, but I prefer movies where something actually happens in the first hour. Doesn't have to be anything crazy, like a plot or character development, but something would be nice. You know what happens in the first half of this movie? Nothing. I'm serious. I mean, stuff happens -i.e., you get to see an all-too-frequently appearing waiter reciting the specials then asking if they'd prefer "bottled or tap," and you get to see a fairly boring and completely meaningless version of New York, New York performed in it's entirety -complete with a closeup that lasts so long it makes one wonder if Mulligan is actually dating the director and not the Mumford and Sons guy. Thus, aside from a passing sex scene or two, the first sixty minutes of this movie has no plot, rather, it 'plotzes.'

McQueen could've easily stuffed this self-aggrandizing, look-at-how-cool-I-am, hour into fifteen minutes and we all would've been much better off. (Are you reading this Noah Baumbach?) To be fair, maybe it's not all McQueen's fault. It's hard to build a plot when the main character waits until the movie's three-quarters in to put two sentences together. Oh, he wrote it, too?

The main reason I'm so upset with this film is that it had serious potential to go places few have gone. When I read that Shame was about a sex addict, it immediately peaked my interest, as I love dark, twisted movies like Happiness and the Human Centipede. Heck, I just watched A Serbian Film by choice, and that's as dark as it gets. Being about sex-addiction, I was hoping to see some great flashbacks that would clue us in as to why this guy is the way he is; were he and his sister forced to turn tricks in a trailer park, early on, while living with their crack-head mother? Did the father or uncle molest them for years and the family not know about it? Did the parents promote incest? If so, why? Were they raised in Arkansas or might they have been a prominent, well-to-do family with a dark secret? I was waiting - and waiting- for any family history to come to the surface. And, while the film features several apartments with nice views, ultimately, it's the backstory and character development it lacks most. And, isn't that the first rule of screenwriting 101? Character development? The movie begins with this guy's personality fully-formed and the director never gives us more than a hint or two as to what happened to make the characters they way they are. If I was McQueen's professor and he turned this script in, I would've laughed him out of the room. "How is the audience supposed to care about this guy? Sure, due to Fassbender's tremendous performance, we empathize with Brandon's suffering, but, Mr. McQueen, in order to really get lost and connect with a character you need to know what makes them tick. D minus."

Rotten Tomatoes reviewer James Kendrick sums it up best: "If we are to suffer through 101 minutes of Brandon’s wretched, unsatisfying existence, shouldn’t we at least have some inkling of who the man is and what makes him tick?" (Great minds think alike)

And, I'm sorry, you don't call a guy watching online porn, sleeping with the occasional prostitute, and masturbating in the shower, a "sex addict." You call him "single." Perhaps I'm inadvertently revealing too much of my own existence, but we don't really dive into his addiction until much later. And, by then, well...

When things do finally get going, somewhere near the last twenty minutes, the movie actually gets pretty intense and gripping. But, alas, the poor viewer has been put through so many mundane scenes and boring conversations, it's too few and far between. Shame had such potential, especially considering all the New Year's Eve's and other mindless drivel that leave you begging for a story that doesn't involve a cross-dressing Adam Sandler. It's a real shame.