Brightest Young Things

Martin Scorsese’s Shutter Island takes elements from two reliable genres, noir and psychological horror, and combines them into something curiously affecting. It’s curious because even if some plot twists are predictable, its power is on an emotional level, which is uncommon for a detective story. Cheap scares do not interest Scorsese. Rather than pepper his movie with annoying gotcha scenes, he uses eerie nightmare sequences, the best since The Shining, to creep out audiences and build character development. More importantly, the quiet irony of the final scene makes it easy to forgive the shopworn middle section.

Fedoras and world-weary cynicism, staples of noir, help define the opening act. US Marshal Teddy Daniels (Leonardo DiCaprio) arrives at Shutter Island, a hospital for the criminally insane, to investigate a patient’s mysterious disappearance. Chuck Aule (Mark Ruffalo) is Teddy’s new partner, and earnestly wishes to gain his trust. The hospital is run by Dr. Cawley (Ben Kingsley), whose unnervingly deliberate manner annoys Teddy. And because Teddy came across a Nazi death camp during WW2, he’s hostile towards Dr. Naehring (Max von Sydow), the other psychiatrist on staff. Now the elements of psychological horror enter the story. Teddy has an ulterior motive for visiting the island, which he slowly reveals to Chuck. It seems a particularly violent patient, one in a restricted ward, is responsible for the death of Teddy’s wife (Michelle Williams). The dead wife, the missing patient, and his WW2 experiences converge into increasingly horrific nightmares. Soon a terrible storm strikes the island, allowing the Marshals to enter the fortress-like ward. What they find leaves more questions than answers, and Teddy’s mental state becomes the focus of everyone’s attention.

Few filmmakers have such a grasp of their craft like Scorsese, so every shot and freeze-frame has a specific purpose. This is apparent during the nightmare sequences, particularly during slow tracking shots that ratchet unease. The director effectively combines elemental fears, and the dream logic offers ample insight into Teddy. It wasn’t until the movie’s conclusion I realized these scenes aren’t merely weird for the sake of weird – they enrich the themes of contrition and madness, which are mainstays of Scorsese’s work. If I focus too much on the dream sequences, it’s because the procedural elements are the most rote. Of course Teddy suspects the worst conspiracy imaginable, and everyone, especially his wife, offer increasingly dire warnings. Characters discuss the paradox of being labeled “insane” more often than necessary, so some twists lack shock. Still, the quality of the acting and level of suspense ensure the predictable scenes are never boring.

More than any other previous work, Shutter Island confirms DiCaprio’s collaboration with Scorsese rivals the one with Robert De Niro. DiCaprio exudes world-weary toughness for the first hour, which then gives way to defeated paranoia. Thrillers often require such development, yet in one of his best career performances, DiCaprio adds a degree alarming pathos. Other cast members do an admirable job. Ruffalo again confirms his status as an excellent everyman. Kingsley hardly ever missteps, and the development of Dr. Cawley is an interesting antithesis to Teddy’s increasing despair. Special recognition should go to Emily Mortimer as the missing patient - her trademark sweetness is a chilling counterpoint to her horrific surroundings. A number of underrated character actors, from Ted Levine to Jackie Earle Haley, also make memorable appearances as violent monsters.

Shutter Island will not go down as one of Scorsese’s masterpieces. Here he instead demonstrates his command over genre and mainstream entertainment, as he did with Cape Fear nearly twenty years ago. Whereas many directors would amplify the story’s horrific elements, Scorsese maintains a slow-burn pace. Sudden moments of shock take a more profound toll, as dread is pervasive throughout its two-hour plus running time. It all culminates in a poetic, understated final exchange of dialogue. Scorsese and screenwriter Laeta Kalogridis seemingly leave it open to interpretation. After some thought, I’m sure you’ll agree Teddy knows exactly what he’s saying, and his tragic implications will eventually torment the person to whom he speaks.