The Eyes of Michael Shannon

There’s a scene in Jeff Nichol’s disquieting new film Take Shelter in which Michael Shannon pulls his car over to the side of the road.  We are beside him, looking through his windshield.  The road ahead is blown out by the white emptiness of overexposed daylight.  The rear view mirror floats there, hanging on nothing.  On it’s own, its already a jarring shot.  The reflective surface lying in wait against the oppressive glare of the afternoon sun.  This is in contrast to the crackle of thunder heard moments earlier.  The sound of a storm brewing.  A storm that no one but Shannon’s character Curtis can hear or feel.

We return to the mirror.  In its reflection are Curtis’ eyes.   They are panicked and wild and frightened, but they are also intelligent and piercing.  They are eyes that bore holes into you and burn indelible marks into your subconscious, leaving you unsettled and ill at ease.  Is this man crazy, or does he know something?  You are nervous.  Maybe even a little scared.  With just his eyes against the bright light of day, the anxiety of the narrative—of this man—becomes more than just moving images, but a palpable sensation that surrounds you and locks you in.  There is something unearthly about them. Set low on the forehead, they look out at you from the mirror with an unnatural cerulean blue.  With nothing else in the frame, you can only concentrate on the intensity with which these eyes are emitting its message:

Something is coming.  There is reason to fear.  Why doesn’t anyone see?

I went to Take Shelter this evening on a whim.  It had been awhile since I went to the movies by myself—one of my favorite things to do in NYC.   Fortunately, the crappy weather and lack of appealing plans presented me with this rare opportunity and I checked to see what was at the Angelika.  I'd seen the trailer for Take Shelter months back and had been hooked by a scene in which Michael Shannon's character is confronted by a flock of swarming CGI birds.  But even more than the birds I was intrigued to see Shannon take on a leading man role.  Over the past ten years he has appeared in a number of supporting parts to extreme effect, stealing the show from the lead every time.   Here again, he doesn't disappoint.  The film itself is already impressive—a taut, moody discourse on the generally unsettling and anxiety ridden state of the country.  But Shannon takes the film's ethereal and saturnine canvas and grounds it convincingly in the character of Curtis.  He is a man on the edge, but of insanity or an awful truth?  The answer is left unclear.  And we are left with the impression of Shannon’s intense eyes, daring us to wonder what is coming next.