Shame last night at the Curzon Renoir in London glitzy Brunswick.
It was a brilliant film and Michael Fassbender is brilliant in it. It's both moving and sad. You feel overwhelming sympathy for a character so filled with self-loathing and disrespect for himself that he can care so little for others. He is compelled to seek the only affection he can think of to fill the void inside. The only love that he can accept for himself is the love that is all too fleeting, the love that is gone in an instant, the ultimately unfulfilling act of physical intimacy. And with each new sex act his character descends into a deeper despair. He picks up people on the subway, the office, in bars, on the street. He pays for prostitutes, Internet porn and even goes to a back-room in a gay bar to find what he seeks. And with each orgasmic rush he realises he can't stop himself. Like a drug user he is hooked and tragically he knows it. It is this knowledge that makes him die a little on the inside. As if to prove a point at each moment of conquest you see his expression change from ecstatic cum-face contort into a terrible death mask. Never has the expression la petite mort been more apt.
Oh yes and Carey Mulligan is great in it too. The self-loathing sister to Fassbinder's self-loathing brother. She too feels empty inside. They obviously share some trauma from the past. But her method of finding love is to draw attention to herself through her singing, her flirting, her nakedness, or indeed her simple need for a hug. They are both incredibly damaged people and our heart goes out to them.
Oscars all round I think. And as I say, brilliant film. Go see!