To say there are expectations with the release of a Martin Scorsese movie doesn’t quite cover it. The man behind the camera of some of the most respected films in history has proven about 20 times over now that he knows what he’s doing on the set of a feature film. His visions into various stages of this thing called life are gripping, honest, tragic, beautiful and brutal — often at the same time. His latest feature effort — 2006’s Oscar-winning “The Departed” — proved that the now-67-year-old director is far from coasting through the backside of his cinematic career.

With this in mind comes “Shutter Island,” a creepy, psychological thriller starring Leonardo DiCaprio that somewhat recalls one of Scorsese’s best and most memorable pictures, “Taxi Driver,” because of its look into the deep, bizarre recesses of the human mind.

Going in to my screening of “Shutter Island,” I tried to steer clear of any particular expectations of what it would be like, although to say I was expecting it to be “good” would be a considerable understatement. A lack of expectations will only benefit the audience, because the mind exploration journey contained within “Shutter Island” can be difficult to put into words. Or thoughts.

DiCaprio stars as Teddy Daniels, a U.S. Marshall assigned to investigate the vanishing of a patient at a prison for violent mentally ill offenders on the rocky Shutter Island, off the coast of Boston. His new partner is Chuck Aule, a newbie marshall played by Mark Ruffalo.

As the two federal agents run into countless roadblocks at the prison — most notably from an uncooperative psychiatrist, Dr. Cawley (played by Ben Kingsley) — they realize their prestige off the island means nothing on it.

For the remainder of the film, the viewer is thrust into an uncertain realm of reality and perceived reality — which puts the viewer in the confused mindset of Teddy, whose proximity to mental illness seems to have stirred up some disturbing memories of his past.

Once the mental component of “Shutter Island” took over, I was constantly reminded of a couple of Alfred Hitchcock’s best-known works: “Vertigo” and “Rear Window.” Just as James Stewart’s characters in those films undergo a personal unraveling into obsession and borderline madness over a beautiful woman and a suspicious neighbor, respectively, Leo’s character undergoes a downward spiral that leaves us uncertain of whether we should believe him or the others, led by Dr. Cawley.

DiCaprio, as much as he still seems like a kid to me no matter how much fuzz he grows on his chin, is a top-notch actor, and he proves it here. Some of the emotion he displays here is as painstaking as any I’d ever hope to see from any actor.

Kingsley, per usual, is excellent here as a mysteriously creepy doctor who has very powerful powers of persuasion. His stoic, authoritative presence makes what’s real and what’s not seem one in the same.

The thrilling part for the audience is that we’re completely at Scorsese’s mind-bending mercy. He can lead us in any direction he chooses, and even after he does, we’re not sure where we’re going. It’s an uncommon phenomenon for a film to have this kind of power over the viewer. It’s kind of unsettling as well.

This isn’t Scorsese’s masterpiece, or even one of his top five. There’s a few too many (albeit fleeting) moments of awkward, unlikely plot twists that are too clichéd for comfort for that elevated status.

Still, it’s Scorsese. And until he proves otherwise, that means a solid, gripping and unpredictable treat for audiences.

Thinking otherwise is simply crazy talk.

Joel Sensenig is news editor of the Review Times.