If End of Watch is the most underrated film of 2012, then Take Shelter is certainly the one most overlooked in 2011. How Michael Shannon’s performance as Curtis, a man terrifyingly straddling the line between prophet and paranoid schizophrenic, went without a nomination – in a year that was rather lackluster and filled more with cutesy than quality – I’m unsure. The same might be said for Jessica Chastain in a breakthrough year that included Tree of Life and The Help.
Curtis works for a drilling company, owns a farmhouse with his wife Sam (Chastain), has a deaf daughter whose cochlear implants are around the corner, and has horrifying nightmares that feel nearly as real as his waking life. In his dreams, his dog attacks him, his co-worker impales him, his wife stabs him, jaundiced rain falls from the sky, birds dive bomb him and his daughter and then fall dead from the sky like a scene out of Genesis, and thunderheads anthropomorphize into a mouth ready to ravage mankind.
in reaction, he begins expanding on the once-small tornado shelter in the back yard and sees a counselor. His actions are both over-the-top reactionary (gas masks, food to last a few months) and heartbreaking. The wild card that Take Shelter throws into the mix is Curtis’ mother (Kathy Bates), a diagnoses schizophrenic who lives a few hours away in an assisted-living home in Columbus. The commentary here is duly interesting in that it sanctions madness. Or rather, it acknowledges and removes it from public viewing. His mother is out of the way, a few hours out of the way, and neither Curtis nor his brother Kyle really interacts with her.
It’s in these moments that Take Shelter exposes both the sympathy we have for those with mental health issues — and the distance at which we keep them. And this is the meat of the film: a man so afraid of becoming his mother creates a shelter in which to hide himself. In an archaic sense, this is a noble gesture in that he effectively keeps his family safe by maintaining distance from them. At the same time, his actions emphasize an endemic fear of emasculation. I don’t want to suggest that Take Shelter is all about a man afraid of being seen as weak, but there are moments that suggest it’s about the illusory perfect life. Curtis is the primary earner. Sam raises their daughter and sells hand-sewn pillows and such, but the money she earns is put away for their annual vacation. Curtis, presumably, covers the mortgage, provides insurance, and takes care of other incidentals.
But he’s a man who realizes the tenuous state of his existence. This makes Take Shelter an unblinking look at a man’s potential dissent into schizophrenia. The camera moves slowly; the background music is subtle; Michael Shannon’s growing gravelly, guttural voice at once fashions Curtis as a man both on the verge of a breakdown and one drowning and thrashing for something to grab, something to hold on to, something to steady himself.
And, the downside of Take Shelter revolves around my use of “potential” in the previous paragraph. For the majority of the film, we are watching man decline. His sanity is challenged. His life is crumbling (though Sam sticks close to him throughout). And in his attempt to prevent failing and becoming emasculated, he in fact fails and becomes emasculated.
But then the film turns, and we’re no longer sure what writer and director Jeff Nichols is trying to say. We’re not sure whether he is taking a sympathetic look at someone on the verge of mental illness, whether he’s examining our cultural reactions to mental illness, or if he’s advocating that we listen closely for the chance that we might be stumbling upon a prophet looking to protect us from and unknown agent’s revenge.
