Martin Scorsese’s ‘Shutter Island’ is shot in perpetual gloom. The film is reminiscent of a nightmare: always dark, chaotic and unsettled. Whilst Scorsese employs elements of the psychological thriller, he also refers to the melodrama in order to explain his story. The film is about a man trapped in his own mind, a struggle that is mirrored in the scenic landscape, melodic score and traumatic memories on-screen.
Scorsese uses crisp cinematography to tell his story, much like other recent features of his, such as ‘Shine a Light’ (2008) and ‘The Departed’ (2006). What I find most intriguing about this film, however, is Scorsese’s return to the broken male figure. We find this male archetype emerge in other films of his such as ‘Mean Streets’ (1973) (Johnny Boy), ‘Taxi Driver’ (1976) (Travis Bickle), ‘Raging Bull’ (1980) (Jake La Motta), ‘The King of Comedy’ (1983) (Rupert Pupkin), ‘Cape Fear’ (1991) (Max Cady), ‘The Departed’ (2006) (Billy Costigan) and others. Di Caprio as Teddy Daniels is no different to these fragile male characters Scorsese creates and explores in his other works. Daniels is a man investigating a missing patient on Shutter Island, a space that harbours those just like him: the criminally and mentally insane. There is, however, a twist: he does not know this. The film has its typical narrative turn/red herring: all of the events that occur on the island are both a product of Daniel’s paranoia and a part of his ongoing psychological treatment. It must be stressed, however, that whilst the premise of Scorsese’s film is clichéd, it is well-delivered and shot in beautiful visual detail.
Di Caprio is amazingly intense as Teddy Daniels. He revives the vehement qualities of Billy Costigan in ‘The Departed’ (2006), only in Scorsese’s most recent feature, his seriousness is delivered ad nauseam. I acknowledge that Daniels is mentally ill and that his actions are ‘defence mechanisms’, as the medical professionals on the island call it. However, I feel as though Di Caprio’s performance is overacted and over-directed in parts. Nevertheless, his performance is strong overall. Mark Ruffalo as Chuck Aule is average; nothing memorable. His whiny voice has a grating effect, making his performance, at times, uninteresting and avoidable. Aule, however, is a vital character in the story: he is a soundboard for Di Caprio’s unhinged mind. Therefore, Ruffalo’s performance is win-loss. Ben Kingsley as Dr. Cawley, however, is quite good. He is a caricature of a mental health professional/intellectual in an era when psychoanalysis was beginning to build as a discipline. Max von Sydow as Dr. Naehring is identical in this sense; he is a blatant parody of Sigmund Freud. Other supporting performances by Michelle Williams (as Dolores) and Jackie Earle Haley (as George Noyce) are generally effective. They drip with gloominess, much like the story’s antihero, who waivers between protagonist and antagonist.
Scorsese’s feature is entertaining and engaging, despite its use of clichéd twists. The film’s performances are reasonable, but its mise en scene is attractive. Overall, Scorsese gives us a solid feature.
(3.5/5)
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