The polarising nature of Martin Scorsese’s ‘Shutter Island’ left me somewhere between utterly bewildered and undoubtedly mesmerised. I couldn’t decide whether it left me with more questions than answers. The concept of a seemingly sane man gradually going insane in an environment isolated from society isn’t something particularly new in film, so Shutter Island had the job of creating a unique explanation as to how a man could descend into such ‘insanity’. It does so by placing the audience into the perspective of the man himself. It blurs the line between normal and abnormal, sane and insane, almost giving the audience an understanding of what it’s like to lose your mind. It’s not the sort of film you’d watch casually, as it gives you a lot of food for thought. For some, this may be a blessing, to be presented with a film with such powerful, thought-provoking themes. For others, it may be a little too thoughtful, and the ambiguity of its messages may leave audiences utterly bewildered. Regardless of its message however, Shutter Island provides an eerie setting, a stellar cast, and a foreboding soundtrack to create an intriguing psychological thriller about how fragile the human psyche is, and how much untapped potential it holds.
The very setting of Shutter Island immediately creates a sense of disconnect with the rest of the world. Set on an island in a post-WWII world, the film follows US Marshals ‘Teddy’ Daniels (Leonardo DiCaprio) and Chuck (Mark Ruffalo) as they travel to the island to investigate the disappearance of a patient from a mental hospital. Chuck’s moderate level-headedness balances well with the intensity of Leo’s Teddy Daniels, as Leo provides an undeniably compelling performance as a man grappling with his past, his unsettling surroundings, and his own mind. Isolating a man who witnessed and partook in the horrors of WWII, along with mental patients who’ve also been separated from society, presages for something disturbing and suspenseful. From the opening scene, the film uses modern classical music to create a heavy sense of foreboding, a feeling that the two marshals are entering something much more profound than they signed up for. The hostile and uncooperative nature of the hospital staff further suggest there is more to the patient’s disappearance than meets the eye, as Teddy seemingly begins to unravel a conspiracy which has him questioning his own mental state. Ben Kingsley portrays the hospital’s lead psychiatrist, Dr John Cawley, in a performance which ranges from reassuringly accommodating to unnervingly unforthcoming. Most of the characters, Cawley included, behave as they normally would in their job roles, but at the same time act as if they are withholding information about the disappearance and the hospital. This conveys a feeling of insecurity, that the situation on the island is not as cut-and-dry as it initially seemed, leaving Teddy to contemplate who to trust and whether or ‘blow the lid off’ a deeper conspiracy.
The film relies substantially on lengthy scenes of dialogue and unsettling dream sequences, primarily revolving around Teddy placing the pieces together between the hospital disappearance and his own past. The lengthy dialogue scenes are one of the reasons I believe the film is not a casual watch, and demands full attention from its audience. Initially, I thought some of the CGI-reliant dream sequences didn’t quite match the tone of the film, but upon reflection I can appreciate the effect they were trying to achieve. They heighten the surreal, dream-like feeling to create a sense of disconnect with reality. They effectively visualise the shocking impact of PTSD, and how those who experience it repeatedly relive the atrocities they experienced in their mind. At first, there seems to be a disconnect between Teddy and the rest of the hospital, as he perceives the patients as merely inmates unworthy of redemption and struggles to cooperate with the hospital staff. As the film progresses however, we are placed into Teddy’s mind as we begin to question whether there there is something more to the interactions with the patients and the staff. We begin to question whether there is a more personal connection between the hospital and Teddy’s past, as the film begins to blend reality with the images of his mind. Subtle changes and small details such as a plaster gradually peeling off a man’s face signify the uncovering of the truth, but also the deterioration of one’s own mental state. As the pieces gradually come together, the film suggests atrocious actions committed by mental patients may not be entirely unjustified.
To its core, Shutter Island is a film epitomising the disconnect between reality and the mind. As its protagonist becomes increasingly determined to uncover the ‘truth’ about his reality, he soon finds that the real truth is within himself. It is a hugely thoughtful film which uses subtle techniques such as lighting and musical cues to create an increasingly suspenseful atmosphere throughout. Providing us with the perspective of a man gradually losing his mind in turn helps us to understand and empathise with the mentally ill. It is not a film for the casual viewer, due to the drawn-out, introspective nature of its story, which certainly takes a reasonable level of thought to process than most films. It does however present its audience with several profound questions. What does it truly mean to be ‘evil’? Is anyone truly worthy of redemption regardless of their crimes? I do appreciate films like this which take their time to build a suspenseful yet engaging atmosphere. Those which utilise the finer details of visual storytelling to show an audience how fragile the human psyche is. It would be interesting to watch this film again knowing its ending, and to pick up on details that may have been missed the first time. That is if I can bring myself to concentrate and engage with it enough as I did the first time.
G does Films 