Take Shelter or: The Greatness of Michael Shannon (Film Analysis)

The year is 2011, about one year into my newfound film hobby.  At the time I had become more interested in smaller indie films, with director Jeff Nichols’ recent Take Shelter catching my eye.  Before Take Shelter I was unfamiliar with its lead actor Michael Shannon, having only seen him in bit roles that were nothing significant or noteworthy.  Take Shelter was my first real introduction to Michael Shannon, and boy did it leave an impact.  Even if Shannon’s role had been played by another, less compelling actor, Take Shelter would have still been a great film.  The film contains great direction, great cinematography, a great performance from its lead actress, and a thoroughly engaging story.  Yet it’s Shannon’s fantastic performance in the lead spot that soars Take Shelter to new levels of impact and significance.

Ohio man Curtis LaForche (Michael Shannon) lives a seemingly typical middle-class life.  He has friends, a good job as a construction worker, a beautiful, loving wife named Sam (Jessica Chastain), a daughter, and a sizable home for them to live in.  His friend Dewart (Shea Whigham) says Curtis has a good life, yet there are some hardships, such as Curtis’ daughter being deaf and having trouble playing with friends.  The LaForches barely afford their daughter’s living expenses, with Sam selling hand-knitted fabrics to help with the costs.  Yet there’s hope for the situation as Curtis’ job has good enough benefits to cover implant surgery to help their daughter hear.  Curtis’ life, however, is soon disturbed by premonition-like dreams seemingly warning him of a great catastrophe in the near-future.  These dreams, or nightmares, are all too real for Curtis and begin disrupting his life and, in turn, those close to him.

MINOR SPOILERS BEGIN: Great performances can only enhance a story so much.  An actor who gives the greatest performance in the world in a horribly-written story will, at best, result in a mediocre film.  Fortunately, great performances are far from everything Take Shelter has going for it, as its plot, directing and style makes for a wonderful, thought-provoking psychological thriller.  The plot’s key strength, both in-story and for the viewers, stems from one question: are Curtis’ dreams actual supernatural premonitions or the beginnings of a mental illness?  Curtis’ dreams are a vital piece to Take Shelter’s story, and the film does an effective job splicing them into his reality.  The film never transitions to a dream by showing Curtis tossing and turning in bed—it simply jumps right into it from the previous scene.  This makes it initially difficult to discern whether Curtis is awake or dreaming, just as Curtis can’t tell the dreams apart from reality.  It’s a clever way to make Curtis’ confusion relatable to the audience.  Initially, Curtis’ dreams are weather-related—seeing tornados form in the distance and motor oil raining from the skies—yet as the story progresses they become more disturbing and nightmarish.  He dreams about his dog attacking him—biting so hard that it breaks bone—and fellow neighbors assaulting him and his daughter in an almost zombie-like manner.  As the dreams become more intense, so does Curtis’ pain after he wakes up.  The former dog biting dream leaves Curtis’ arm hurting for the entire day.  Other dreams leave Curtis waking up in a cold sweat, feeling sick and, at one point, causes him to wet the bed (much to his frustration and embarrassment).

Curtis’ dreams soon begin invading his reality—hearing thunder on cloudless days when no one else does, and seeing peculiarities that have also occurred in his dreams.  The film is once again clever with the latter, having Curtis notice such peculiarities when no one else is looking.  When driving home with his family Curtis notices an intense thunderstorm in the distance, yet his family misses the event due to being asleep.  At work, Curtis sees a huge flock of black birds flying in a strange pattern, yet his coworker doesn’t hear his query due to construction noise—never looking up to confirm or deny if such event is occurring.  Curtis’ life is shaken and heavily affected by his dreams and apparent hallucinations, with news stories about chloroform spillages/clouds in other towns only helping to fuel his rampant paranoia.  He forces his indoor dog to live outside, builds a fence around its doghouse, and then gives it away to his brother’s family.  He has his friend and fellow co-worker Dewart reassigned to a different project after having a dream where Dewart attacks him.  Most significantly, Curtis takes out a loan for supplies to expand and improve his tornado shelter, going so far as to “borrow” a company bulldozer for the project.

The film eventually reveals that Curtis’ mother lives in an assisted living home after having a mental breakdown when Curtis was 10.  His mother suffers from paranoid schizophrenia, which surfaced in her around the same age Curtis currently is—a factor Curtis is all too aware of.  Curtis goes to the library to check out books on mental illness, before heading to the store to stock up on canned food.  He begins seeing a counselor at a free clinic and goes to the doctor for medication, though the pills only seem to make him worse—causing a seizure where he starts bleeding from biting his lip too hard.  Take Shelter is a psychological struggle for both Curtis and the viewers on what is truly happening.  Is Curtis having a mental breakdown similar to his mother's, or could these dreams and hallucinations actually be premonitions towards a catastrophic event?  Could it even be a mix of both?

The audience struggle comes from how we can sympathize and understand what Curtis is going through.  The film’s decision to portray Curtis’ dreams and hallucinations as clear and frightening to the audience as they are to Curtis, as well as merging the dreams together with reality, allows the audience to go through the same process as Curtis.  The viewer can just feel Curtis’ pain and conflicted anguish.  The man knows what he’s doing looks crazy, yet truly believes what he’s doing is the right thing.  In one scene he explains to Sam how it’s “not just a dream, it’s a feeling.  I’m afraid something is coming.”  And it’s such feeling that drives his conflicted objective as he simultaneously tries fixing his mental state while going through with his excessive shelter plan.  In a way, Curtis’ actions are similar to an addiction, one that he truly wants to stop yet just can’t seem to bring himself to do.  The most agonizing part for Curtis is that he can offer no rational explanation or excuse for his actions.  All signs point to him being crazy, yet Curtis persists even as it gradually destroys his life—and it’s clear that such persistence pisses him off, such as when he goes out and buys an expensive gas mask only to angrily toss it in frustration.

It doesn’t help that Curtis lives in a close-knit community where everyone personally knows and interacts with one another.  The community gradually become aware of Curtis’ strange actions, getting nosey and making it their business to give their two cents on the situation.  Everyone from Dewart, to Curtis’ doctor, to his brother mention something about not wanting to see him self-destruct and/or ask if he’s visited his mother lately (a less-than-subtle way of noting their worries towards Curtis’ mental state) much to Curtis’ distressed shame.  Each of these characters possess a judgmental attitude towards Curtis, betraying their seemingly kind motives with an air of hypocrisy that repels Curtis from accepting their help.  Dewart, for example, believes Curtis’ life to be ideal, despite clear-cut evidence to the contrary (i.e. his daughter’s disability, wife selling knitting to help pay for the expenses, Curtis’ past and his mother).  Dewart’s rose-colored view of Curtis’ life prevents him from truly comprehending his stressed friend’s troubles both before and after the dreams begin—inciting feelings of envy, passive aggressiveness and downright hostility instead of compassion and empathy.  Curtis’ brother is called in by Sam to help, but his approach is arrogant and ultimately insincere when it’s revealed that he doesn’t visit their mother—halfheartedly telling Curtis that he’ll eventually get to it.  What hope is there for the brother to help Curtis when he neglects his own mentally disturbed mother?

There are only two adult characters in the film that try helping Curtis without a patronizing attitude.  The first is the free clinic counselor Curtis goes to see (played by Lisa Gay Hamilton).  The counselor is a kind, patient character, and while she admits she cannot legally proscribe Curtis with any medication, she does offer something no one else in the film has yet: to simply listen to his problems.  She’s the first character to be sincere in helping Curtis, and the only character to have a completely nonjudgmental attitude.  It’s such attitude that makes Curtis open up, giving insightful backstory on his life and the inner fears and trauma he’s bottled up.  Unfortunately for Curtis, such character is replaced partway through the film by another counselor who’s just as patronizing as the townsfolk.  The second character is Curtis’ wife Sam, played by the ever-talented Jessica Chastain.  When I first saw Take Shelter, Shannon’s groundbreaking performance made me completely overlook Chastain.  A revisiting of the film, however, has shined a new, striking light on Chastain’s beautifully acted role as Sam.

While it’s Chastain’s performance that sells the role, it’s important to note that Sam herself is a fleshed-out, well-written character.  The film gives time for developing Curtis and Sam as both a couple and loving parents to their daughter.  Small, yet vital scenes include the family going to sign language classes together and when both parents peek in at their daughter sleeping.  The latter is a sweet, yet melancholy scene showcasing how the pair still haven’t fully adjusted to their daughter’s disability—Curtis mentioning how he still takes his boots off to not wake her, and Sam humorously whispering how she still whispers.  Compared to the counselor, Sam certainly has a more critical attitude towards Curtis’ strange behavior, yet it’s completely understandable when she has such high stakes in the manner.  Why shouldn’t she be concerned and upset at her husband when he inexplicably takes out a huge loan while they’re tight on money, steals company property to improve upon their tornado shelter, and gives away their family dog all without consulting her.  Then there’s Curtis stealing equipment and skipping work when it's his company's benefits that have made them on the verge of getting effective hearing surgery for their daughter.

The great thing is how the audience understands and sympathize with Curtis’ actions, yet also understanding his wife’s pain and confusion over what’s happening.  From Sam’s perspective, it’s easy to understand why Curtis’ action appear selfish and disrespectful.  There’s a great scene where despite her anger, Sam calmly, lovingly asks why he took out a loan to fix the shelter and why he never consulted her on such a huge decision.  Curtis naturally does not answer, because he knows, just as the audience knows, that he has no solid reasoning other than “I’m having vivid nightmares and I need to do this”.  When Curtis finally comes clean—after having the aforementioned seizure, where Chastain delivers a powerful performance as a wife terrified and confused about what’s happening to her husband—Sam reacts calmly, lovingly, and with visible concern.  A million things must run through her mind at that moment—what is happening to her husband, will he be safe, will he end up like his mother, how will this affect his job and their finances, how will this affect their community relationships, will they still be able to get surgery for their daughter, will she have to fully take care of him now, what will ultimately happen to them—all visibly showcased, without a single word, through Chastain's facial expressions.

Rarely does a film so ideally handle its male and female couple in a way where both sides are equally sympathetic and understandable.  The scene where Curtis loses his job, and its resulting aftermath, is an all too real scene for me.  While not the identical situation, I’ve been in a similar spot where I royally f@#%ed up and feared my wife would leave me as a result.  The way Sam handles the ditch Curtis dug has become far more poignant and impactful now than it was when I first saw the film.  It’s downright brilliant actually and subverts the usual formula for typical protagonist wives in a beautifully human manner.  It says something when a film grows more powerful and relatable as you grow up.  The scene and overall rewatch give me a previously missed admiration and love for Sam’s beautifully written, three-dimensional character.

Everything I’ve written about so far has the makings of a great film, but it’s one key element that solidifies Take Shelter as a truly memorable great film, and I think you all know who I’m talking about.  Michael, Shannon.  A great performance can be done by anyone given the right role and genre, but great actors can take any role regardless of genre and make it remarkable.  Three is my magic number when it comes to considering someone a great actor—three separate, great performances to qualify.  Michael Shannon has had many noteworthy performances, but there are three that truly stand out from the crowd.  99 Homes, Revolutionary Road, and Take Shelter are the three films that established Shannon as one of best actors of the past ten years.  I recall a review where its critic compared Shannon’s performance here to Christopher Walken.  While I find their acting styles to be completely different, I wholeheartedly understand where the critic was coming from.  Shannon, like Walken, has a distinct acting style that, whether loved or hated, leaves the viewer remembering their performance.  Shannon is an actor whose performance sneaks up gradually before smashing you over the head with a sledgehammer.  One may not initially realize they’re watching a great actor work, as Shannon’s outwardly stoic performance can make his subtle brilliance easily overlooked.  Take, for example, how Curtis’ face twitches right before revealing to Sam that he took out a loan.  The twitch showcases clear stressful anticipation at knowing how his wife will react, yet having no alternative options as he’s been backed into a corner.  Then there’s how Curtis looks down while talking to his older brother, hardly ever making eye contact.  It reveals the authority his much older brother has over him—acting more like a father than a sibling—while also displaying Curtis’ shame and embarrassment over actions he cannot explain yet must do.  These are great little moments in his performance that can go completely unnoticed.  Yet with Shannon, there’s often a moment or scene where his brilliance comes out roaring, and in Take Shelter that’s the community get-together scene.

THIS, was the scene.  The scene that stuck with me all these years after first seeing Take Shelter.  The scene that made me remember Michael Shannon's name, and the scene I absolutely love.  The community get-together scene is where Curtis finally cracks under the pressure of his judgmental community and own mindset.  Throughout the entire film, Curtis keeps his feelings bottled up, restrained, and/or holds back what he truly believes—created by his own insecurities, acceptable social norms, and fears about possibly inheriting his mother’s mental illness.  Yet here, for the first time, Curtis is pushed to his limits and finally lets go in an extravagant, marvelously over-the-top rant.  “There is a storm coming! Like nothing you have ever seen!” Curtis madly raves to his stunned, frightened audience.  Shannon works wonders in this scene, his eyes bulging out, hands wildly waving around like a Televangelist preaching the good book.  The scene works, and it works brilliantly because the film successfully sets up the breakdown while Shannon effectively sells it.  Having Shannon hold back his emotions up till this point makes the scene all the more startling, impactful, and passionately entertaining.  I giggle with joy watching the scene, yet also feel immense sorrow for poor Curtis—alone in a room full of friends, family and neighbors convince he’s lost it, vainly trying to defend his actions before breaking into tears at the sight of his scared wife and child.  It’s a fantastic scene, with Shannon placing an astounding amount of energy into making it truly memorable.

MASSIVE SPOILERS BEGIN: Take Shelter’s climax is a brief, brilliant fake out.  At first, it appears Curtis is right after all—a huge storm hits and the family “take shelter” within the bunker.  Yet by the next day, Sam tells Curtis that the storm is over and to unlock the shelter, while Curtis continues to insist that the storm is still occurring.  The climax acts as an allegory to Curtis’ inner fears about leaving his family.  At first, he refuses to open the shelter, trying in vain to convince his wife and daughter that the storm is still occurring.  When they remain unconvinced, Curtis breaks down and offers Sam the key, but Sam refuses to take it, telling Curtis that he has to do it himself.  It’s a great way to conclude Curtis’ character arc: having him face the imaginary storm brewing inside his head and breaking free of its grasp.  The climax seemingly resolves the mystery about Curtis’ dreams and visions…at least until the last few minutes, where it turns out the initial fake out is, in fact, a fake out to another fake out.

There’s been plenty of discussion over what the final scene means and/or symbolizes.  Some people believe Curtis was actually right and that his dreams were premonitions to an incoming storm, while others believe it’s symbolic towards the incoming storm Curtis and his family will be facing now that they know what they’re up against with his mental illness.  The way I see it, Curtis was right, but Sam and the community were also right.  Curtis is having premonitions of an apocalyptic disaster heading their way, but he’s also beginning to suffering from paranoid schizophrenia.  Essentially, the premonitions to save people are being given to the one man who no one would believe (which has a distinct biblical tone to it).  The dreams are foreshadowing something, but Curtis’ onset schizophrenia is causing him to experience such visions and sounds while awake (hearing thunder, seeing the large flock of birds, etc.).  The final scene is real because the daughter reacts first to the storm, a character whose age and hearing disability would make it difficult to grasp what’s mentally occurring to her dad (making the symbolic theory less plausible).  There’s even a great little moment where Curtis looks to his wife to confirm he’s not imagining such spectacle, to which she gives a small nod basically saying; “No, I also see it…” causing him to slowly nod back in response (I love how they save showing the storm until the last minute, but give an initial peek through the house’s screen door reflection).  However one interprets the final scene, the fact that it generates such discussion and theorizing makes it a success. MASSIVE SPOILERS END

It’s Nichols’ excellent directing, editing and storytelling, combined with a great performance from its lead actress and an outstanding performance from its lead actor that makes Take Shelter an amazing film.  I didn’t even get into the film’s beautiful cinematography, occasionally utilizing its thriller elements injunction with such imagery (such as the thunderstorm Curtis spots).  Yet it’s Michael Shannon who takes Take Shelter to the next level, and it’s Take Shelter that brought Shannon to my attention and helped raise him right up my list of the decade’s best actors.