Shelly here seems to be making a lot of fun of art house films and does so with real aplomb. Her landlord, Roger Rees, is a college professor who lets her rent her place free (very likely explaining her ability to pay the fortune teller), but has painted a door-size face of her on his apartment entrance and constantly professes his undying love for her. She'll have none of it. Instead she prefers the ministrations of a younger man, about her own age, played nicely by Tim Guinee, who winds up being unable to satisfy her physically because of his peculiar psychology that turns to Russian literature just at the wrong moments. Her girlfriend "falls in love" with two gay men, partners, who chatter endlessly about artsy stuff that means not a whole lot at all.
And, on a quiet Village street, she witnesses a murder, or two, or three, committed by a tall bearded man who has a few more personalities than the average bear. A banana-eating cop doesn't believe her when she tells him what she saw.
Though this all sounds completely disjointed, it's just this fragmented gathering of wacky shenanigans that makes this so much fun. Shelly is really smart and doesn't hesitate to show it; she could be guilty of a bit of puffery--look how smart I really am--but the sharp wit and humor here is so abundant, it more than makes up for any possible self-conscious preening.
This is a short (80 minutes) film, but really groovy. Highly recommended.
