The cinetrix is still having a hard time grappling with the senseless nature of Adrienne Shelly's death. As mouthy Maria in Trust, Shelly seemed invincible, the first in a long line of tough, radiant Hartley beauties.
In 1997, the cinetrix was living in New York and was fortunate enough to see two of Shelly's directorial efforts. The first, her debut feature Sudden Manhattan, I saw at that theater on 11th . I found it a little meh at the time, perhaps because the already not-cute Woody Allen neurotic shtick becomes even less cute when it's a young woman floundering about. [What can I say? I was myself a floundering young woman. I suspect it may have hit too close to home. I'd love to see it again. I remember how beautiful and hidden she made certain streets in the Village feel.]
The other was a short Shelly shot for Lifetime, which screened as part of a slate of women-directed flicks at Lincoln Center. The channel had commissioned them for an on-air "film festival" for viewers who lived too far away from any real fests. [Imagine! The cinetrix snickered knowingly along with the rest of the urbane audience and now, well, I live in the hinterlands.] The only two things I remember about the program was that the head of Lifetime was a man, and that Shelly's short, Lois Lives a Little, was hilarious.
Lois [Alix Elias--Coach Steroid from Rock 'n' Roll High School] is a frowsy hausfrau on Longuyland, fed up with her marriage and prone to increasingly elaborate romantic fantasies about the boy who does yard work. In her Walter Mitty-meets-Harlequin-romance imaginary life, she swoons around in bodice-ripper togs, while in her drab real life, she packs and repacks her bags, dreaming of a tropical escape. Does she eventually rekindle the spark with her nebbishy husband? Does she confuse dream with reality and frighten the unsuspecting yard boy? The cinetrix can no longer remember, but she'd sure love to see it again.
I hope Shelly's family will someday find some peace. As for me, this exchange from Trust has been rabbiting around my brain ever since I first learned she was gone.
Matthew: I respect and admire you.
Maria: Is that love?
Matthew: No, that's respect and admiration.
I had all that and love for her work, in front of and behind the camera.
