The Shutter Island

Hey everyone! How are you? All back on track after summer, I suppose. No more lazy afternoons and long hours of sleeping! Anyway, over the summer I caught this wonderful psychological-thriller called ‘The Shutter Island’ (2010) on Star Movies and so here goes:

It's 1954, and up-and-coming U.S. marshal Teddy Daniels is assigned to investigate the disappearance of a patient-cum-murderess from Boston's Shutter Island Ashecliffe Hospital. Before long he wonders whether he hasn't been brought there as part of a twisted plot by hospital doctors whose radical treatments range from unethical to illegal to downright sinister. Teddy's shrewd investigating skills soon provide a promising lead, but the hospital refuses him access to records and places he suspects would break the case wide open. As a hurricane cuts off communication with the mainland, more dangerous criminals "escape" in the confusion, and the puzzling, improbable clues multiply, Teddy begins to doubt everything - his memory, his partner, even his own sanity.

Martin Scorsese, as always, has done a remarkable job in the making of the movie, especially the plot. Shutter Island was completely unexpected, and a great start to 2010. The script is fantastic; it has one of the most intriguing plots I have seen in a while. It is exciting, suspicious and can even alter your sanity as you put yourself in Teddy’s shoes. Minute after minute, you are driven insane as each scene delivers a new twist, a new lead to an almost-unsolvable case capable of turning you into a maniac. It had all the components of a great film. Everything, down to the set's lighting, was perfectly executed.

The acting is spot on from every character; none of it seems forged or out of place. Perhaps the most incredibly played character was of Teddy by Leonardo Di Caprio who conveys every single expression as if he were Teddy himself. Also, the name Teddy itself seems ironic -- such an innocuous name in such a gothic setting.
One of the few areas the movie lacked at was continuity: When Teddy is interviewing a patient at Ashecliff, she goes to pick up a glass of water. When she puts the glass to her mouth she isn't holding a cup at all. The next shot shows her putting it back on the table. And in another one, when Teddy is interviewing another patient, he scrawls in his notebook to the point of tearing the paper in one shot but the paper is intact in a later shot. Secondly, some parts were hard to understand as it requires a great deal of psychological knowledge and this made me presume a lot of scenes. By my reckoning, not everyone will like this; Shutter Island isn't your typical movie.

To put it all in one tight bag, the film is a smashing hit and both asks and answers the question, “Which would be worse? To live as a monster, or die as a good man?” Really, which one is?

-N.Nivetha

Pandora's Box

Wrote this short story in approximately 25 minutes in an English exam. So, sit back and enjoy!

I was never supposed to open the almost-colossal, brown, derelict oak door. Never. But I couldn’t. The secret has been concealed for years and being only a week away from the legal adult age of 18, I couldn’t resist the urge to open the oak door on the far end of the landing of the third floor. So, I did it. I opened it and across my eyes had laid a thousand, untold secrets.

It all happened on a Friday, the 13^th. My family – my mom, dad and my little sister, Becca – had gone out for lunch with some old acquaintances. Holding a tub of luscious ice-cream, I ventured into our new house. I had explored the first and second floors on the first day but I had been prohibited from entering the third floor. So, I was planning to do exactly the opposite today.

So, holding up the ice-cream, I climbed up the old, creaking stairs of the mini-manor. The stairs were wraped with a thick layer of dust and I couldn’t stop sneezing. As I climbed onto the flight of stairs that led to the third floor, I hastily pulled at the cobwebs which were graying the place and blocking out the scintillating sun. I finally reached the third floor’s landing and took a sharp take of breath, shocked at the scene that lay before me.

I quietly stepped onto the landing and tiptoed across, aware of the deafening silence and the distant call of crows. The floor boards groaned with my weight and I had hunch that something really wicked is about to happen. I felt an invisible force behind me, creeping along with me, trying to interrupt my progress. I flipped back several times, only to find dusty air illuminated by the iridescent sun pouring through the cracks in the ceiling, lighting the cold, dark, looming corridor.

I finally reached the door and as slow as a snail, pushed it open. The door, as slow as ever, creaked and swung open. The first details my eyes registers was the state at which the room stood crumbled. The ceiling, floorboards, walls and everything was swathed in a thick layer of dust, turning the room into a weird shade of grey. I put my finger on the wall and wiped out some dust and below the layer of gray, I saw a rick, golden, yellow spot - a sign of happiness. I thought – yellow to grey, frabjous to melancholy, happy to sad.

Another sinister thing about the room was the furniture it contained or rather, the box it contained. I crept to the box and tenderly kneeled before it. There was a copy of my favourite Greek legend, Pandora’s Box, lying neglected on this ancient – looking golden trunk. It broke my heart to see my favourite book, which I used to read every day, which was reminiscent to my childhood, laying in a sea of melancholy and neglect. I took the book and tenderly flipped through the battered copy, recollecting the story of Pandora, who, due to curiosity, opened a box and unleashed melancholy, sickness and all the negative aspects of life into the world. I carefully laid the book aside and studied the beautiful engraved trunk and… got almost a heart attack.

For, engraved in the center of the old, century-old trunk were two words in big, black, bold letters: Pandora’s Box.