Whenever a director goes to make a classical movie that he holds dear to his heart the results are always abysmal. Shutter Island had all the makings of a masterpiece, a strong performance by Di Caprio and competent (if a bit unspectacular) support by Mark Ruffallo and Ben Kinsley. In the back drop of an eerie island sufficiently scary to provide an emotional landscape. The only thing that went awry was that the director, in all of his genius took himself and the story just too seriously. What emerges is a self indulgent and almost psychedelic story of a man’s battle against his inner demons. The Movie drags on for more than two hours and you got to watch it to believe me—and I don’t suggest you do. If the ghosts untimely and not so scary entrance and exit of spirits and really ugly creatures make you wish you were dead or worse; the monotones of Di Caprio’s deceased wife repeatedly making unwarranted, uninvited and unnecessary addition will defiantly bring out the worst in you.
It is unfortunate that Martin Scorsese failed to realize that sometimes less is more. Every single derivative has to be bludgeoned into the innocent unsuspecting audience. Like an extremely B grade action movie, when a fight scene will not end with one kick to the groin unless the poor victim is smashed to a pulp after he had stood up braving to fight the initial vicious assault, the films mini climaxes keep on piling up to a fairly timid climax.
Scorsese needs to reflect (and probably repent) for this abomination. It would a pity if he is remembered by Shutter Island and Gangs of New York rather than Taxi and Good Fellas.
It was crap and I wanted my two hours back.