Shutter Island (2010)
3.0
THRILLER/DRAMA
U.S. Release Date: 02/19/10
Running Length: 138 Minutes
MPAA Classification: R (Violence, Profanity, Nudity)
Theatrical Aspect Ratio: 2.35:1
Cast: Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Ruffalo, Ben Kingsley, Max von Sydow, Michelle Williams, Emily Mortimer, Patricia Clarkson
Director: Martin Scorsese
Screenplay: Laeta Kalogridis, based on the novel by Dennis Lehane
Cinematography: Robert Richardson
U.S. Distributor: Paramount Pictures
Review by: Carter Moulton
2/19/10
Martin Scorsese’s latest picture, Shutter Island, begins on a ferry underneath a marbled overcast sky. Two detectives, both of whom are wearing a shirt-and-tie complemented by a beige hat and an oversized trench coat, smoke cigarettes and gaze out into the nothingness of the sea; they mutter quick lines to one another regarding their upcoming investigation, foreboding the gloom that awaits them; the captain of the ferry confronts the two, warning them to get off the boat quickly once it docks—“A storm’s coming,” he says; and then we see it, accompanied by bold, jagged sounds of cello strokes: Shutter Island.
Teddy Daniels, played by Scorsese’s biological son Leonardo DiCaprio, and his new partner Chuck Aule (Mark Ruffalo) are, as DiCaprio puts it in an unconvincing accent, “dually appointed federal marshals” (view the trailer below to hear the line) in search of a woman, Rachel Solando, who has gone missing.
As you can guess, there isn’t a five-star resort on this island; it’s a mental institution. Patients, most all of whom have committed some form of murder, eerily drift through the hospital’s courtyards, watering the flowers and sweeping the sidewalks in shackles. One such woman, who looks directly at Daniels as he is escorted around the premises and tells him to “shh” (also in the trailer), is particularly bloodcurdling.
Ben Kingsley plays the chief physician of the institution, Dr. John Cawley. Cawley is a bowtie wearing S.O.B.—or is he? He’s a well-spoken, pipe-smoking figure, but he’s reluctant to aid the two marshals in their investigation. What is he hiding?
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Photo © Paramount Pictures
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Daniels’ mind becomes the central mystery—as opposed to the search for Rachel Solando—and this psychological study is significantly less interesting than the straightforward investigation Daniels and Aule are conducting. Everyone’s begins pulling everyone else's leg, and it becomes tiring—I would’ve been more satisfied with a Clue-like tale.
Daniels, always squinting, begins to experience frequent migraines, flashbacks, and nightmares. These psychosomatic moments are, artistically speaking, the most liberating scenes in the film. In a flashback, where we see Daniels in World War II, Scorsese uses a painfully—but powerfully—long tracking shot to show a Nazi massacre Daniels took part in; in a dream Daniels has about his now-deceased wife, Delores Chanel (Michelle Williams), ash falls from the ceiling and all of the surrounding scenery slowly ignites; and in a hallucination during one of Daniels’ migraines, quick cuts give way to cigarette smoke—smoke that travels in reverse.
Scorsese is wonderful at escalation. A scene where Daniels scratches a pencil on a piece of notebook paper while interrogating a patient had me clinching, my hands interlocked. And perhaps, most suspenseful of all, is the Ward C sequence—to which someone behind me sighed out loud, “Whew, Ward C baby.” Ward C is the gem of horror on the island, housing only the most dangerous patients. Within its walls, Scorsese exaggerates every noise. The striking of a match, the dripping of sewage pipes, the clank of footsteps, the silence—especially the silence. Only diegetic sound is featured in the sequence; you’ll jump out of your chair, but you won’t need a sudden burst of startling strings and shrieking brass instruments to do it.
Shutter Island is at least a half-hour too long and the source material isn’t nearly as intelligent as its director; but this is Scorsese, and he’s able to salvage an entertaining mood piece from this jumbled, sometimes frustrating story. DiCaprio, albeit that god-awful accent and a pair of slanted eyebrows, is emotionally convincing enough as Daniels. I’ve heard critics reference Hitchcock when discussing this film, but Shutter Island’s tone is more Kubrickian—The Shining in particular. Flaws aside—many of which aren't the filmmaker's fault—Shutter Island will make you squirm, gulp, and tingle—and you’ll never want to play tag again.