#24: Shutter Island
Making lists is difficult. Or, perhaps better said, making compelling lists is difficult. Not difficult in the larger context of the human condition, for I’d hate to minimize the true and deep and profound difficulty of being alive, but certainly difficult relative to the world of artistic creation and consumption. You can, if you desire, find hundreds of articles, videos, podcasts, blog posts, and lists outlining the precise things you’re looking for on most any artistic subject. More than this, so much money has been poured into the film industry and its surrounding pomp that it is nearly impossible to avoid lists categorizing what is good, effective, worthwhile, or notable. Which is why making this list, for me, is difficult.
On the one hand, I want to avoid a basic, derivative, Reddit-and-Letterboxd-film-bro compendium of films designed to indicate my own “high taste” or “elevated eye” in a way that is either inscrutable to the average moviegoer or virtue signals my role as some established gatekeeping group of critics and artisans. In many ways, movie watching is an inherently subjective experience, and it’s often good to simply like what you like. On the other hand, there are certainly objective markers that elevate certain films over others, and for as tired as they can be, those “film bro” lists often do reach a degree of consensus on what is good or memorable or resonant or artistically boundary-pushing. And so I hope you’ll find, on my list, some thin thread connecting these two sides of list-making, reviewing, and film watching in the forthcoming weeks. My goals—and the goals of any good film list, I think—are as follows:
Highlight films that the average movie watcher may have missed over the years, or have not received the requisite attention, in order to prompt exploration of such things
Develop a shorthand representation of film culture, genre, diversity, and thematic resonance, so that if someone wanted to explore the question, “What was film like in that period of time?” this list could work towards an answer
To help readers sift through the flurry of noise that is our contemporary content machine and curate for them a sort of tour through the century
To represent the highest, innovative, artistically elevated cinematic achievements of the 21st century so far
My second installment on my 25 From 25 list—Martin Scorsese’s 2010 film Shutter Island—is doing lots of work towards this first goal. Critics widely consider the film to be “lesser Scorcese,” a perfectly serviceable foray into generic genre fare by one of our greatest living directors that remains, nevertheless, beneath his capacity. A.O. Scott, of the New York Times, led his review this way: “Something TERRIBLE is afoot. Sadly, that something turns out to be the movie itself.” Others have cited its excitement as overshadowing an emotional distance, and even others have simply called it “weird,” and thus it has been relegated to the bounds of a “competent thriller” at best. The logic goes like this: for someone whose work and social commentary have produced irrefutable classics like Goodfellas and Taxi Driver, which critique American masculinity and loneliness, or incendiary and sobering works like The Wolf of Wall Street and Casino, which serve as standout examinations of the grotesque falls of contemporary greed and materialism, Shutter Island seems just fine.
I have yet to find Shutter Island counted amongst the best films of the century on any lists currently making the rounds, and I find this oversight an error to be corrected. I’m of the mind that, in general, these early responses and lack of appreciation entirely whiff on Scorsese’s profound work in this film. Not only would I not categorize this as “lesser” on his part, but I’d call it a gem, and perhaps even Top 5 across his illustrious filmography. Its elevation of the puzzlebox noir thriller, a la Hitchcock, to include critical themes of identity, PTSD, individual and collective trauma, self-deception, the nature of reality, and American pharmaceutical and therapeutic practices is all of a kind with other classics that checker Hollywood history. Indeed, if this were a debut film from an unknown director, or more generally, an installment in nearly any other filmography, it would be lauded as an achievement of the highest order, thematically and cinematically. Yet somehow the film gets punished precisely because Scorsese is so great.
The writing is clever and rewarded exponentially upon rewatch, shedding light on its many twists and turns in exceedingly enlightening ways; the music contributes to the claustrophobic dread of the island, and serves as a compelling parallel to the twisted minds of the patients therein; we also get seminal—if not criminally overlooked—performances from both Leo DiCaprio and Michelle Williams at the center of the film. In many ways, this film awakens the sort of actor that Leo transforms into during the second half of his career, evolving from a tragic heartthrob hero to a troubled and trauma-informed husband, lover, and great man, and this ultimately ranks alongside The Wolf of Wall Street and Django Unchained as his best work. Williams similarly finds herself turning the corner in her career in a positive way, which continues forward towards Manchester By The Sea following her work here.
Another factor to consider with this one is that it seems tailor-made to be watched and then discussed in group settings. I can still remember my first viewing of the movie: packed into the living room of the late-night, darkened house of one of my good high school friends, fresh off a summer day of food and swimming and drinks, provided the perfect setting to take in the thrills and chills and twists therein, and to discuss them afterwards. So if you've already seen it, give it a revisit with some friends, as I’m confident it'll improve in your eyes; if you haven’t yet seen it, check it out as soon as possible in a group - I wager you’ll discover a diamond in the rough.
Other Recommendations If You Like Shutter Island: Inception, The Prestige, Unsane, Enemy, Men