Written by: David Entin

Martin Scorsese and Leonardo DiCaprio are a winning combination. They almost seem like a guaranteed hit, glancing back at Boston’s own Departed to Gangs of New York and The Aviator. But Shutter Island stumbles over this legacy and the heavy expectations on its shoulders.

The beginning is sublime Scorsese gold; two federal marshals stand on a gray sea ferry chartered for Shutter Island’s isolated Ashecliffe Hospital for the Criminally Insane to search for a missing patient. The ominous and very literal storm on the horizon promises an unnerving journey. At the top of bluffs and beyond the electrified walls of the asylum, fascinating patients roam the grounds.

The fifties setting is immaculate, with the old scars of World War II still clawed into the minds of the patients and orderlies while new fears of the Cold War ominously rumble ahead. Tensions are high, and Teddy Daniels (DiCaprio) is caught in this nervous time in history. The foot soldier turned government agent has a spotted past of terrible memories from concentration camps during the war, and the recent incineration of his beloved wife in an arson.

Teddy begins to suffer the mandatory hallucinations and delusions, and the visual lushness of these scenes is gorgeously gripping. The missing woman, one Rachel Solando, managed a stellar disappearing act, evaporating through the walls sans shoes to roam somewhere on the island.

DiCaprio is good. Certainly this isn’t his best performance, but he has a capable range and settles into the emotional pitfalls of the character with believability.

Ben Kingsley as the hospital administrator is expectedly mesmerizing. His passion and calculated assistance makes him an enigmatic character often beyond categorization as a friend or foe.

The claustrophobia of the setting is ideal for the visual trickery and quirks that Shutter Island is filled with. Volumes of liquid can change, glasses disappear and reappear, and Shutter Island very pleasurably tosses the viewer into a double take.

The locations and characters occupying them are as enjoyable as they are mysterious. Sadly, the furtive motives behind the madness are tantalizing beyond all measure, but the film only succeeds in dangling its possibilities.

The soundtrack is intrusive. Heavy drums and screeching chords destroy the ominous calm of the setting, crafting a series of unwelcome “dun, dun, dun”s. The music feels too obvious at times, consciously aware that this film is a thriller, deciding to scream rather than whisper.

As the walls of the institution begin to wear on the Marshals, the film begins to sink deeper into its nightmarish setting.

Yet, it rarely offers real progression, but throws quizzical exposition and visual tricks onto the audience to create an unwelcome sense of tedium and length. By its climax, the film has overstayed its welcome, and the great unveilings of answers can feel unfortunately obvious, though intriguing conceptually.

What Shutter Island does right is craft a world draped in a compelling mystery. Yet it flubs the delivery, spending too long hinting at the resolution before arriving at its predictable destination. It truly does care, luring and bating the audience along with welcome and satiating tricks.

The dialogue can feel jumpy for the characters who invoke strange monologues that are meant to disorient or unnerve but fall flat, feeling derivative. Often times, delivery becomes too heavy handed, sounding artificial and intentionally mysterious.

Shutter Island is an agonizing disappointment. It stayed too long, promised too much, and delivered too little. As a Martin Scorsese picture, it pales in comparison to the muscular classics that adorn his filmography. It feels like a botched attempt, a gem just poorly polished. Yet, as a standalone film apart from its pedigree, it satisfies. Scorsese’s brilliance as a director is painfully apparent; he secures expansive, rich imagery, captivating mysteries, and an arresting setting. Unfortunately, the compliments must end there.

Rating: 3/5 Falcons