Shirley
neon
There is a haunting opaqueness in Josephine Decker’s Shirley that stays with you long after the credits roll, a quality that suggests it is more of a discussion piece than a story. It’s a shame that it hasn’t been released in theaters. If anything, it should be seen with a viewer’s full attention and preferably not alone.
Based on Susan Scarf Merrell’s novel of the same name, the film removes real-life writer, Shirley Jackson from her biography and places her in a gothic atmosphere similar to her work. It could be said that Shirley is a domestic horror film more than a drama or biopic, fictionalizing her process and imagining a fraught and bitter relationship between her and husband, Stanley Edgar Hyman, a renowned critic and English professor.
Nevertheless, that’s only the beginning of what’s happening here. In this re-imagining of a young couple, Rose (Odessa Young) and Fred (Logan Lerman) move in with Shirley (Elisabeth Moss) and Stanley (Michael Stuhlbarg), sharing a home while Fred establishes himself as an assistant professor under Stanley’s tutelage. As the younger couple adjusts to the older couple’s manipulations of rancorous fights and open infidelity, their lives begin to tangle together in unexpected ways. Rose’s pregnancy and Shirley’s creative process while writing her latest novel, Hangsaman, are particularly affected. These effects run deep, leading to the disintegration of certain relationships and the affirmation of others.
To say who Shirley’s main character might be proves to be complicated. The film shifts between the two female leads’ points of view without notice, devolving into dreamlike imagery and exchanges that might be real or imagined. The agoraphobic Shirley begins to fixate on Rose and, before long, her sense of reality begins to fragment and multiply, causing nightmarish and carnal visions of the character she is writing about (also played by Odessa Young). This doomed girl begins haunting Shirley’s mind and house like a ghost from one of her books.
In the meantime, Rose struggles with her impending pregnancy and shifting sexual needs as well as her husband’s growing remoteness and Stanley’s constant power plays. Like Shirley, her reality begins to collapse and she grows dependent on the reclusive author as a friend and confidante, aiding with her research and writing. This doesn’t change in spite of Shirley’s unpredictable and sociopathic behaviour.
‘She’s my friend,’ she tells Fred during an argument.
‘Women like Shirley don’t have friends,’ he warns.
As a twin portrait of these women and their marriages, the film begins to blend their stories together. An indiscernible narrative is formed along with and an ending that begs for debate, which won’t be spoiled here. However, the performances at the center of Shirley are so strong they can’t be disputed. Over the last decade, Moss has proven to be a formidable actress, bringing an unexpected ferocity to her collaborations with Alex Ross Perry (in particular Queen of Earth and Her Smell), as well as blockbusters like Us and The Invisible Man. Her work in Shirley is an extension of her talents and intensity. Whenever her furious gaze fixes on another character, it seems possible that they might burst into flames.
Stuhlbarg is also a revelation here, portraying a nightmare version of the educated men he has become known for playing. Stanley is an insecure lord of his personal fiefdom, flattering who he wants to seduce and tearing into whoever threatens his ego. His interactions with Rose are particularly painful, expecting her to cook and keep his house while he repeatedly kisses and paws at her, expecting her to give in like his female students.
Although many aspects of Shirley remain unclear, its take on Shirley and Stanley’s marriage is laid bare. For one thing, it seems that the two of them revel in harming each other, and that mutual animosity might be their twisted way of expressing devotion. It’s also easy to conclude that Stanley resents his wife’s talents because he is in awe of them and doesn’t have them himself. At the same time, Stanley’s good opinion is all that Shirley respects and hungers for. This is what keeps them together. A scene where she awaits her husband’s dismissal or approval of her work is communicated without words, just the silent anguish on Moss’ face.
Regarding everything else, Shirley becomes a puzzle that begs to be sifted through and argued about, which goes hand in hand with what is unfolding onscreen. What was real and what was imagined? Was the pain either woman suffered worth its outcome? What motivated certain characters to act the way they did? What will happen to some of them now that the story has concluded?
There are no solid answers, only loose ends, adding to the mystery of it all.