Shutter Island

One of the best actor-director collaborations of today, Martin Scorcese and Leonardo DiCaprio have established a successful filmmaking formula. It’s most impressive, then, watching the powerhouse duo take on narrative and cinematic challenges­—and succeed.

U.S. Marshal Teddy Daniels (DiCaprio) and his newly appointed partner Chuck Aule (the always-reliable Mark Ruffalo) arrive on the isolated Shutter Island, sent to investigate a patient’s inexplicable vanishing from a hospital for the criminally insane. Dr. Cawley (Ben Kingsley), accompanied by heavy fog and an atmosphere of pervasive anxiety, greets the detectives. He promptly provides guidance toward tracking down the disappeared murderess-of-her-children Rachel (Emily Mortimer). Hindered by blinding migraines and nightmarish World War II flashbacks, Teddy nevertheless gets straight to work. But with each unveiling of the island’s truths, his perceived reality begins to crumble.

The intertwining of the present mystery on the island, Teddy’s hallucinations and his traumatic past establishes an eerily melodious rythym for the film. The narrative’s unfolding centers on Teddy’s viewpoint, which forces Scorsese to tone down his familiar expansive visual style. Scorcese ably responds, often employing tight shots that enhance feelings of claustrophobia. Quick cuts and edits are paired with jarring sound effects, especially during scenes within the asylum and prison walls. Scorcese’s techniques lead to further unease, enveloping the viewer in the recesses of Teddy’s psyche. The ghastly concentration camp scenes in particular highlight the effective work of cinematographer Robert Richardson.

DiCaprio, utilizing his furrowed brow to great effect, convincingly expresses each stage of his character’s psychological deterioration. He pushes himself to previously uncharted terroritory; these labyrinthine depths would smother The Aviator’s Howard Hughes within seconds. Kingsley bequeaths professionalism and resolute care to Dr. Cawley, capturing his character’s unflinching belief in his patients’ right to therapy. The expertly cast supporting characters buttress the film, especially Michelle Williams as Teddy’s wife who appears in his dreams and visions. She literally and emotionally haunts, crafting a performance imbued with stark vulnerability and stained with almost too-realistic horror.

The few moments of superfluous confusion and slight gimmick barely detract from the captivating, gorgeous filmmaking. This is a nightmarish and elegant study of mental illness, interlaced with memory, emblematic of loss.