‘Shirley’ is as haunting as its subject | review

Shirley follows a young couple staying with famed novelist Shirley Jackson and her husband as she tries to break through writer's block

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The young couple is staying with Jackson and her husband Stanley Edgar Hyman (Michael Stuhlbarg), a professor who Fred is assisting, while they wait for a place of their own. And since Shirley is nearly incapacitated by her writer's block, Stanley asks Rose to help around the house and keep an eye on her—he asks in an almost dismissive way as if it's her duty to help. Though Shirley is initially wary of Rose and Rose is terrified of Shirley—Moss portrays her as an almost supernatural figure or bomb just waiting to be set off—the two begin to bond as Rose becomes the muse for Shirley's novel, which will eventually become her classic Hangsaman. 

Decker's style, dreamlike in its execution but deliberate in every decision, is perfect to give us insight into the mad genius of Jackson. Rough and horrifying cuts to nightmarish visions are mixed with moments of serenity, like when the main character of her story, an actual college girl that has gone missing, is literally brought into focus through Rose. Decker tells the story like one of Jackson's own tales, mixing horror tropes and with the psychosexual drama. In particular, Tamar-kali's score infused with jangly strings and incomprehensible melodies adds to the horror. 

As the movie unfurls, it becomes clear that something more is afoot, though Sarah Gubbins' brilliant screenplay is careful to keep us an arm's length away as to prevent us from finding out until precisely the right moment. And while the central mystery and Shirley's creative journey writing her novel is more than enough to keep you hooked, the movie's themes of misogyny and control are what engross you—and Decker handles them with a steely indignance. The spars of words between Rose and Shirley cover so much ground on the power struggle between genders while Rose, beginning to come into herself, finds control over her husband in a stunning scene where she has sex with him on her terms—keeping her mouth just out or reach.

In Rose's first interaction with Shirley, she tells her that reading “The Lottery” made her feel “terrifically horrible,” an apt description for the move itself. The horror-like atmosphere, Moss' maniacal performance, and layered narrative make Shirley almost overwhelming, but when you find what to focus on it's a rewarding experience. And when you learn more about the real Shirley—this is a fictional version pulled from Susan Scarf Merrell's novel of the same name—you find her journey in the movie tragic but profound.

There are puzzle pieces missing, whether intentional or not I don't know, but those missing pieces make Shirley an entertaining and stimulating watch. As all the characters spar with each other in various pairings you become attached to them, a surprising feeling considering the narrative they're in. That's a testament to the incredible development Gubbins does in her screenplay and Decker's auteurist vision for the work. However, it would be a disservice not to mention Moss' electrifying portrayal that's almost impossible to untangle, but once you do her genius is apparent. 

Shirley premiered at the 2020 Sundance Film Festival. It will be released on