With “Shutter Island,’’ Martin Scorsese proves susceptible to the chic of filming a Dennis Lehane bestseller. Clint Eastwood turned “Mystic River’’ into lugubrious opera; Ben Affleck pumped “Gone Baby Gone’’ full of pulp. Surprisingly, Scorsese divines Hitchcock in the competing genres of Lehane’s book, which trotted out psychological suspense, grisly melodrama, wartime horror, and some risibly punning names while spinning a yarn about two federal marshals on the hunt for an escaped mental patient.
It’s an inspired extraction though not a terribly satisfying one. This is a long, heavy film, in which Scorsese’s aerobic moviemaking turns mannered and uncharacteristically passive. The movie’s big moments hinge on long explanations, meant to clear everything up. But all the telling seems to neutralize Scorsese’s kinetic power.