Shelley Duvall

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Brewster McCloud (Bud Cort) lives deep within the cavernous underground of the Houston Astrodome, but his dreams rise much higher. He aims to fly. Not in a plane. But with strapped-on wings he’s designing – encouraged by a mysterious woman (Sally Kellerman) who may be his guardian angel. But Brewster McCloud, Robert Altman’s wild, anarchic cult fave, isn’t about dreams as much as it is about the highs and lows of humanity. It’s a serial-killer mystery. A frenetic car-chase flick. A crazy circus-finale comedy. Shelley Duvall debuts as the tour guide whose seduction of Brewster may lead to his undoing. Ah, love. The thing that at once shapes and unravels us. The thing that may or may not give us wings.Read More »

When two men break out of prison, they join up with another and restart their criminal ways, robbing banks across the South.Read More »

The Shining is a 1980 horror film directed by Stanley Kubrick, based on Stephen King’s novel of the same name. Kubrick co-wrote the screenplay with novelist Diane Johnson. The film stars Jack Nicholson as tormented writer Jack Torrance, Shelley Duvall as his wife, Wendy, and Danny Lloyd as their son, Danny. References to The Shining are prominent in U.S. popular culture, particularly in movies, TV shows and other visual media, as well as music.Read More »

Quote:
There’s a blood vessel that pumps between the selves we drive through the day and the incubus we nourish, a creative self (perhaps cocreated by a love), relatively unconstrained, who we promise ourselves we will birth some day. The most sublime art is what we imagine that young, more unfettered mind imagines. Its why we live, a large part of it, I think. This is the domain Maddin has decided to explore. Its a sort of Joycean commitment, a raw commitment to dreams less shaped than usual by borrowed items and fed by distilled urges in blood. Small surprise that these don’t fully resonate; its supposed to be strange, strange in disturbing ways. I like the fact that this goes on too long. Read More »

David Kehr, Chicago Reader wrote:
Robert Altman’s would-be American art film (1977) is murky, snide, and sloppy, but the director’s off the hook because he dreamed it all. Sissy Spacek and Shelley Duvall are two Texas girls who meet while working in a California sanatorium (courtesy of 81/2) and exchange identities while Altman struggles with feminism and the American dream. As usual, the director plainly despises his characters but offers no alternative to their pettiness, although his sneaky jokes at their expense give the film its only glimmer of style.Read More »