On the radio show Loveline, the sex and addiction therapist Dr. Drew Pinsky once said that childhood trauma literally changes the brain chemistry of its victim forever: it creates a kind of psychic scar, and the victim, without intense therapy, will replay the trauma in his or her life again and again and again, to the destruction of everything that is good and healthy in their life.
Brandon Sullivan is a sex addict. Addiction can be a tedious and joyless affair. And it's no surprise that many people who see this movie come away feeling angry and cheated, especially if they were expecting some kind of lurid, sexy roller-coaster.
If you don't understand the simple tragic power of this story, count yourself lucky. You have never suffered from addiction, never had anyone close to you suffer that way. Sex addiction, like all addiction, has its roots in childhood trauma. Those who can't read between the lines of this movie, again, should I suppose count themselves fortunate. But I'm happy to explicate (spoilers ahead).
Brandon's sister says "We're not bad people. We come from a bad place." Brandon also mentions that he lived in Ireland as a child, then grew up in New Jersey. If you don't think that the backdrop of this story is about two children who grew up suffering sexual abuse in the Catholic Church then you're simply not paying attention.
If you don't realize that Brandon and his sister had a confused and incestuous past as a coping mechanism for the abuse they suffered, you're not paying attention.
People accuse this movie of being a series of sex scenes, one the same as the next. That's ludicrous. Every single sex scene in this movie serves a unique purpose. For example, when Brandon interacts with a woman from work who is actually his intellectual and emotional equal - a woman with whom he could actually have an authentic relationship, he can't get it up. He can't exist in a sexual relationship where he could conceivably be vulnerable.
His sister isn't a sex addict - but she is a love addict. And yes, those do exist. They are people who play out intense emotional relationships - they fall into one doomed love affair after another - because they crave the chemical serotonin rush of falling in love the way sex addicts crave orgasm. This is why Brandon is so angry to have his sister around - not only does she, in her addiction, crave an unhealthy emotional connection - she is also his sister, a person truly worthy of his authentic love. It angers Brandon that these two things are hopelessly intertwined. His sister's love for him is both authentically pure and deeply unhealthy.
New York City is undeniably a character in its own right in this movie. The city that never sleeps - the city where someone like Brandon can always find an unhealthy outlet for his pain. The power of Shame is in what it doesn't say. And what is left unsaid goes far beyond Brandon's back story - it goes to the character of the city where he lives, and the country that calls New York its greatest city. On the surface, a beautiful, glamorous life. But that beautiful facade is built on a long history of unspoken atrocities that define it and foretell its destiny.
Brandon Sullivan is a sex addict. Addiction can be a tedious and joyless affair. And it's no surprise that many people who see this movie come away feeling angry and cheated, especially if they were expecting some kind of lurid, sexy roller-coaster.
If you don't understand the simple tragic power of this story, count yourself lucky. You have never suffered from addiction, never had anyone close to you suffer that way. Sex addiction, like all addiction, has its roots in childhood trauma. Those who can't read between the lines of this movie, again, should I suppose count themselves fortunate. But I'm happy to explicate (spoilers ahead).
Brandon's sister says "We're not bad people. We come from a bad place." Brandon also mentions that he lived in Ireland as a child, then grew up in New Jersey. If you don't think that the backdrop of this story is about two children who grew up suffering sexual abuse in the Catholic Church then you're simply not paying attention.
If you don't realize that Brandon and his sister had a confused and incestuous past as a coping mechanism for the abuse they suffered, you're not paying attention.
People accuse this movie of being a series of sex scenes, one the same as the next. That's ludicrous. Every single sex scene in this movie serves a unique purpose. For example, when Brandon interacts with a woman from work who is actually his intellectual and emotional equal - a woman with whom he could actually have an authentic relationship, he can't get it up. He can't exist in a sexual relationship where he could conceivably be vulnerable.
His sister isn't a sex addict - but she is a love addict. And yes, those do exist. They are people who play out intense emotional relationships - they fall into one doomed love affair after another - because they crave the chemical serotonin rush of falling in love the way sex addicts crave orgasm. This is why Brandon is so angry to have his sister around - not only does she, in her addiction, crave an unhealthy emotional connection - she is also his sister, a person truly worthy of his authentic love. It angers Brandon that these two things are hopelessly intertwined. His sister's love for him is both authentically pure and deeply unhealthy.
New York City is undeniably a character in its own right in this movie. The city that never sleeps - the city where someone like Brandon can always find an unhealthy outlet for his pain. The power of Shame is in what it doesn't say. And what is left unsaid goes far beyond Brandon's back story - it goes to the character of the city where he lives, and the country that calls New York its greatest city. On the surface, a beautiful, glamorous life. But that beautiful facade is built on a long history of unspoken atrocities that define it and foretell its destiny.