Film Review: Shirley

Josephine Decker’s previous film, Madeline’s Madeline, was a picture that I really admired for its incredibly striking and ethereal elements, but found a little hard to emotionally connect with, especially compared to how a lot of my peers reacted to it. Despite that, it offered a fresh and distinctive voice in the American indie scene that is always exciting to see. Decker has a new film out that finds her in somewhat more mainstream territory with Shirley, which is written by Sarah Gubbins, who is adapting the book of the same name by Susan Scarf Merrell.

The film follows a young couple, Rose (Odessa Young) and Fred (Logan Lerman). Fred is assisting Stanley Edgar Hyman (Michael Stuhlbarg) at Bennington College, and is pursuing an academic tenure. While the couple tries to get on their feet and find a home, they agree to stay at Stanley’s home with his wife, author Shirley Jackson (Elisabeth Moss), who is currently in the middle of writing – at least, trying to write – a new book. Rose is asked to help out around the house a bit, which she obliges, but she quickly ends up getting the attention of Shirley, who she quickly develops a complicated and tense relationship with.

While the film involves a very real and iconic figure in American literature, the story is a fictional one that avoids the typical demands of a biopic, offering something much more different. Even if certain plot elements might seem conventional, Decker implements her idiosyncratic filmmaking style, one that puts you directly in the headspace of the characters, which brings a slightly fragmented and sometimes oppressive atmosphere. Sturla Brandth Grøvlen’s cinematography consists of frantic handheld motions and lingering closeups, and composer, Tamar-kali creates an eerie and haunting soundscape informed by Shirley’s manic and depressive mental state.

As the film goes on, what really drives it is the ever evolving relationship between Shirley and Rose, one that is equal parts hostile, degrading, sensual, and deeply reflective. Shirley practically sees herself in Rose, and in how she and Fred are as a couple. She has a way of reading people just by looking at them, and things are revealed about the relationship that not only takes Rose by surprise, but is also a reflection of the somewhat strained and controlling dynamic she has with Stanley. This all lends itself to creating an experience that wonderfully plays with the overt familial tensions with the sexual undertones.

It is no surprise that Moss is fantastic in the film. While it may be comparable to her relentless performance in last year’s Her Smell, she pulls off something that is distinct in its own right. Part showy, yet very internal, she paints a compelling portrait of a woman who is weighed down by the world and the people around her, and struggling to make sense of this person who treats her like a human being, yet reminds her of herself. She carries the film well, but relative newcomer Young holds her own as well, standing toe to toe with the likes of Moss, Stuhlbarg, and Lerman, with the latter two providing reliable work.

While Shirley is certainly more accessible than Decker’s previous efforts, it’s a film that still provides her many opportunities to explore her fascinations with toxic relationships, dreamlike narratives, and complex women with more than enough stylistic flourishes to make a strong impression. At times I did find some of these flourishes to be frustrating, while others I found thrilling, inventive, and satisfying enough to not come across like a basic Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? riff. I don’t know if I’m fully on board the Decker hype train, but I continue to be engrossed and intrigued by her impulses, and if you think you can groove with her particular wavelength, then Shirley is one to look out for.