Avengers reunited! Anthony Mackie stars and Paul Bettany writes and directs – but this low-budget, lowdown indie couldn't be further from the world-saving antics of Falcon and Vision. It actually premiered in 2014, and has since been dismissed by many critics. Sure, it's overwrought. But despite some flaws this is a thought-provoking drama with little preaching.
It's a story from the bottom rung of Maslow's Hierarchy. Mackie plays Nigerian immigrant Tahir, homeless in New York, whom we meet repenting for a terrible crime from his past. When his stuff is stolen he notices that Hannah (Jennifer Connolly) is wearing his jacket. He follows her. They meet. They love.
Sounds simple because it is. It's a love story that happens to involve two people sleeping rough. It's episodic in structure because every day is an episode of pain, but it essentially follows the model of the classical Hollywood romance. Yet it does so largely without sugar-coating its characters' suffering.
The film is utterly driven by these two main characters. Every scene is from one of their perspectives. And they carry it brilliantly. We've known Connolly is capable of this quality for some time, but it still comes as a surprise to see her emaciated frame so brutally possessed and conflicted. Mackie, meanwhile, is the revelation. He's a ubiquitous presence on our screens – forever a stable buddy character – but I've never seen him so soulful, so internal.
Does it veer toward beautifully art-directed misery theatre at times? Yes it does. Occasionally it seems conspicuously designed to challenge expectations, more than coming across as a reflection of real life. But I figured that was the point: to find romance in desperation, like the lovers themselves. Also, there's the occasional clunky dialogue: "Never judge a book by its cover," Hannah tells one ignoramus.
Notably, the "System" is not demonised. When Tahir is discharged from hospital into the winter cold, Hannah asks the doctor if Tahir can stay – but she's asking the impossible. Moments like this highlight the hurdles of a universal welfare structure that cannot bend to individual circumstances.
As a test of empathy, Shelter makes you work hard. He's a mass-murdering African Muslim; she's a war widow who left her child to beg for heroin money. However bleak that sounds, the search for goodness is a consistent theme. We are the sum of all our deeds, not just our worst. Tahir and Hannah talk of God and death and cognitive dissonance like regular smart people. And they look out for each other in a way most regular people don't look out for them.
Shelter is worth seeking out. It's a tough, harrowing watch, but far from a thankless or hopeless one.
It's a story from the bottom rung of Maslow's Hierarchy. Mackie plays Nigerian immigrant Tahir, homeless in New York, whom we meet repenting for a terrible crime from his past. When his stuff is stolen he notices that Hannah (Jennifer Connolly) is wearing his jacket. He follows her. They meet. They love.
Sounds simple because it is. It's a love story that happens to involve two people sleeping rough. It's episodic in structure because every day is an episode of pain, but it essentially follows the model of the classical Hollywood romance. Yet it does so largely without sugar-coating its characters' suffering.
The film is utterly driven by these two main characters. Every scene is from one of their perspectives. And they carry it brilliantly. We've known Connolly is capable of this quality for some time, but it still comes as a surprise to see her emaciated frame so brutally possessed and conflicted. Mackie, meanwhile, is the revelation. He's a ubiquitous presence on our screens – forever a stable buddy character – but I've never seen him so soulful, so internal.
Does it veer toward beautifully art-directed misery theatre at times? Yes it does. Occasionally it seems conspicuously designed to challenge expectations, more than coming across as a reflection of real life. But I figured that was the point: to find romance in desperation, like the lovers themselves. Also, there's the occasional clunky dialogue: "Never judge a book by its cover," Hannah tells one ignoramus.
Notably, the "System" is not demonised. When Tahir is discharged from hospital into the winter cold, Hannah asks the doctor if Tahir can stay – but she's asking the impossible. Moments like this highlight the hurdles of a universal welfare structure that cannot bend to individual circumstances.
As a test of empathy, Shelter makes you work hard. He's a mass-murdering African Muslim; she's a war widow who left her child to beg for heroin money. However bleak that sounds, the search for goodness is a consistent theme. We are the sum of all our deeds, not just our worst. Tahir and Hannah talk of God and death and cognitive dissonance like regular smart people. And they look out for each other in a way most regular people don't look out for them.
Shelter is worth seeking out. It's a tough, harrowing watch, but far from a thankless or hopeless one.