CityLife

Shutter Island

The lunatics are taking over the asylum, or that’s what Martin Scorsese’s impeccably-crafted psychological thriller would have us believe.

But perception and reality are completely blurred in this 1950s-set mystery, adapted by screenwriter Laeta Kalogridis from the bestseller by Dennis Lehane (Mystic River, Gone Baby Gone).

Shutter Island is an odd fit for Scorsese, who has always punched low and hard on the mean streets of his beloved New York. Here, he is all at sea on the Boston Harbor Islands, concealing some obvious sleights of hand with the plot behind directorial brio.

The production design is flawless. Cinematographer Robert Richardson, nominated for an Oscar this year, uses contrasting colour palettes to good effect. However, it is a largely predictable and pedestrian yarn, elevated by a superior cast. Even a consummate filmmaker as gifted as Scorsese cannot polish mediocrity to a golden lustre.

US Marshal Teddy Daniels (DiCaprio) and new partner Chuck Aule (Ruffalo) travel to Ashecliffe Hospital for the Criminally Insane with a hurricane closing in on the island. Dr Cawley (Kingsley) reveals a patient (Mortimer) has escaped.

Arguably Scorsese’s most mainstream film, it may well be his most commercially successful. But it is not his finest offering, leaving us disoriented but ultimately unfulfilled. DiCaprio’s uneven and unconvincing performance makes sense in retrospect, as do clumsy special effects, but both prove distracting and stop us feeling completely immersed.

Ruffalo, Kingsley and co fail to make an impact. Being incarcerated on Shutter Island for 138 minutes is too long and we are glad to escape.