Dreamy, moody, and as haunted as the film she stars in, Stella Schnabel’s portrayal of a recently released psychiatric hospital patient named “Shelly” is simultaneously: funny, annoying, unpredictable, solipsistic, direct as a child, bullying, and so fragile it seems as if she might shatter on screen. With an unadulterated, multiple-format gaze, director Ry Russo-Young may have discovered, in only her second feature, her Klaus Kinski.
“You Wont Miss Me” feels like a knowing ode to the bohemian downtown New York of the 1980’s—the time and place in which both Schnabel and Russo-Young grew up. Feminine and frankly sexual images from this era were captured indelibly by photographer Nan Goldin and in Bette Gordon’s peerless 1985 film, “Variety.” Russo-Young situates her film in the modern world, but the range of shooting formats—from 8 mm to cheap video to 16 mm and HD—feels like a conceit with emotional aims, yet succeeds equally in creating an homage to several generations of experimental and independent filmmaking. The beautiful, cool youth of “You Wont Miss Me” might have, in another decade, fit in with Norman Mailer’s “white negro,” or Warhol’s Factory gang, or James St. James’ Club Kids, or, well, you get the idea.
Part of what makes “You Wont Miss Me” so hypnotic, so emotional, and ultimately so successful is the bulldozer trapped in a tornado that is Stella Schnabel (yes, she is
his daughter). Russo-Young creates an enveloping character study by parachute-dropping the audience into Schnabel’s skull, and there is acceptance, knowing, and identification in the director’s decision. What’s notably,
wonderfully, lacking is judgment of Shelly. Yes, there is sincere affection—not objectification—in this director’s gaze.
When Shelly reacts abrasively to her friends, would-be romances, and casual acquaintances—as she frequently does—the audience experiences her flawed decision-making process, which is distorted by emotions and cornered animal paranoia. In a particularly funny-painful sequence, Shelly and her friend Carlen (played by the equally charismatic Carlen Altman) travel to Atlantic City to see a performance by The Virgins. As the night progresses, alcohol-fueled jealousy rises, and Shelly proceeds to gracelessly dismantle the friendship. The fight—which is both monstrous and completely relatable—is a wonder to witness. Shelly is unable to censor herself, which may be a blessing for a young actress, but is a minefield for her friends. The power that Shelly possesses—and she
is strong—comes from a complete lack of concern for what anyone else thinks. It’s never a question of
will Shelly alienate the people around her, but rather: How long will it take?
The beauty of Ry Russo-Young’s film is that despite all the video/film stylishness and evocative dream-poppy score (by the talented Will Bates), “You Wont Miss Me” feels like a tragedy—and Shelly stays with you after the film is over. Like Johnny, the protagonist of Mike Leigh’s “Naked”—who spews venomous monologue after venomous monologue, yet earns the audience’s empathy because he’s so clearly lost and in pain—Shelly seems as if she may burn through an endless parade of people, going from one destructive relationship to another, never capable of the honest self-reflection that might be necessary for her happiness.
But, Shelly is only 23. She’s young. Like so many young, creative people before her, Shelly is just lost and hoping to discover something—or someone—meaningful in New York City.
For more of our SXSW coverage, click to our special page here.
# posted by James Ponsoldt @ 3/17/2009 12:08:00 AM
Comments (1)
Stella is good in it. I was taken aback by the same scene you mention. But let's not go overboard here. The film exists almost completely without a social or historical context, one that would have made the film stronger. The characters drift in and out of some haze with little to no concern or mention of how they maintain their existence. Who pays Shelly's bills? Does this have anything to do with her apparent instability? What are her material concerns? Is the world completely subjective? The NYC that you mention ("of the 80s") and the art scene born of it was intrinsically tied to the shifts in economic character of that era. (Graffiti in art galleries?) The Mike Leigh comparison, a tried and true one for any film without a coherent script it seems, rings false here, as that film in particular is a masterwork exploration of the social decay of Thatcherite England. Quite the stone's throw. Filmmakers will need to place their narratives within a larger social and historical context for any of their work to contain a semblance of truth.
#
posted by @ 3/19/2009 5:26 PM
