Every now and then there’s a news article that grabs your attention. You can’t believe that it is real because, by all reason, it’s not likely. This comes as much with triumph as it does tragedy, for there are those moments when the sadness kicks in that suddenly you feel vulnerable, recognizing the fragility of being alive. It reminds you that anything is possible and that we should aspire to be our best selves every day. Life has this cruel trend of taking things away that we didn’t realize were very valuable.
Lynn Shelton passed away on May 16, 2020 from a previously unknown blood disorder. Considering that she was 54, many would assume that she had several more decades to produce amazing indie cinema. If you look at her body of work, it was like a slow burn, never realizing how much of an impact she made in one medium. On TV, she directed some of the best episodes of New Girl, Little Fires Everywhere, and the Netflix hit G.L.O.W. In film, she was even more prominent with films like Your Sister’s Sister (2011) and Laggies (2014), creating this quiet reflection on life in the moments that are understated. They define our lives, but we don’t often take time to reminisce on why they mattered so much.
She was part of a generation of indie filmmakers who sought to find the essence in humanity, allowing freeform conversations to unravel on shoestring budgets that conveyed universal struggles. While some would unfairly call it mumblecore, Shelton wasn’t really as scrappy as her peers Mark and Jay Duplass, or Joe Swanberg. She was warmer, making every film feel like a hug that would take away your pain, telling you that everything was going to be all right. Her work may have never explored exceptional stories of exceptional lives, but by capturing the average, she became special.
When approaching Sword of Trust (2019), which would become her last film as both director and actress, it’s hard now not to see its central theme as bittersweet. The story centers around a pawn shop owner (Marc Maron) as he comes into possession of a sword that’s presumably from the Civil War. The story is too farfetched to believe that it’s real, but there is something of value in believing its authenticity. The only issue is that he gets into a vicious circle when the sword is revealed to have belonged to some shady people. It’s a story that questions what value believing has in our lives, and if the symbolism is often more valuable than what it actually is.
The world revolves around Maron’s Mel, who spends his days judging the quality of everything that is brought to him. The story is set in Birmingham, Alabama which means that he’s often running into colorful characters, such as Anti-Semites who threaten to take his life. His co-worker Nathaniel (Jon Bass) is a bit clueless and doesn’t see the value in half of the stuff that is being pawned off, serving more as a millennial stand-in, having to explain to Mel what a WhatsApp account is.
Mel is a man stuck in another time, making his references antique. What value he serves to his customers centering around telling you the history of artwork and music, things that have been placed firmly in the past tense. Parallel that to customers Mary (Michaela Watkins) and Cynthia (Jillian Bell), who come into possession of the sword after buying a house and needing it for collateral, and you see a kind of loneliness in how Mel can’t relate on more than a basic human level. He is a grump, and someone who learns to care throughout the story.
 |
| Lynn Shelton |
If there’s anything that can be dinged against the film, it’s that Maron is playing Maron. To bigger audiences, this may seem less obvious, but for those who have followed his career, they will notice how much he’s adopted the persona of an angry old man, obsessed with his records and preferring “classic” anything to its modern counterpart. I for one have been listening to WTF with Marc Maron for a near decade, and one of the issues with his acting is that he gets type-casted in this role often, making one wonder just how much he’s stretching with his role.
He even had an IFC series called Maron that basically fictionalized his real life while playing Marc Maron. To watch how he’s grown as an actor since Sleepwalk with Me (2012) is to see that he’s become more heartfelt in nuance even within this archetype, finding ways to make the character more dynamic and find the hurt. Maron was the point where things began to become more complex, and that may be because it’s where he first met Shelton, who directed a few episodes. They would collaborate on other projects, but it’s interesting to see their first as a moment of love at first sight.
Maron has been open on WTF about his failed marriages and relationships, using it as a way to grow as a person and become a happier person. If you listen long enough, his success story of recording a podcast out of his garage becomes one of those great underdog stories of the 21st century. It isn’t just that his guests have grown in stature, but that he genuinely seems happier as he becomes more transparent. He didn’t talk about her much, but he was dating Shelton at the time of her death, even featuring her in a conversation he had that week with Cate Blanchett.
What listening to the episodes during this time is to notice that he’s genuinely more in tune with his emotions, feeling an acceptance that he has rarely shared before. He has grown up feeling various forms of disappointment and rejection, where even turning WTF into a cash cow doesn’t feel like a total win. And yet with Shelton, he was more open, friendlier, and felt alive. In his memorial to Shelton, he would talk about how she was the first person to make him feel loved in several years and relationships…
And the sad part is that you could totally believe it.
His cantankerous spirit remains intact even as he has had late-career success. There was something about Shelton that brought out the best in him. When they filmed Sword of Trust, she would use various guitar tracks that he had recorded on the podcast. She was genuinely infatuated with his persona, wanting to explore it in a manner that was Maron at his most Maron, not quite being of the moment and yet desiring to make sense of the world he was thrown into.
Moments where Maron and Shelton (as Dierdre) share screen time have a special chemistry. Dierdre is a minor character, serving more as this symbolism of potential for Mel. She is lovely, bringing out some joy in their brief conversation as he finds his guard being let down. There is a sense that Shelton directed the scene with so much personal detail that it let the small moments feel electric, showing Maron on the verge of a genuine smile. They long to be together, and what was true then as it was recently, you buy that she found the diamond in the rough and wanted to make him shine. As a result, he found something more genuine.
I know that I’ve spent so much time focusing on Shelton’s relationship with Maron, but it’s hard to not watch this and understand the pain of so many things. It was the moment when you felt like Maron had finally found overdue happiness, and to have it disappear is terrible. I only wish him love and hope that he finds some way to find that joy in his life again. They were perfect for each other, and I imagine that they could’ve done even more had things gone differently.
Which makes one wonder what the future for Shelton could’ve looked like. She was always a prominent figure in indie cinema and TV, and one can imagine that she would have a hit on par with Duplass at some point, creating this permanent statement about being alive in the 21st century. It’s true that every film she made is deserving of this title, never straying far from her vision, allowing the camera to linger long enough to feel that second burst of emotion. She cared about everyone she worked with, and it showed in her work.
On the surface, Sword of Trust doesn’t seem like an exceptional film with an above-average story to keep audiences entertained. Every performer is in top shape and captures the perfect hangout vibe that the story needs. It’s a story that comes with insular growth, and you sense that Mel has become a better person for going on this journey. Things make more sense and he has potential to be happier.
With that said, this isn’t a modernized Clerks (1994). It’s one that’s more driven by the humanity of its characters, observing and clashing over small details. Even if Maron feels familiar when compared to his other movies, he feels freer, looser, and capable of playing around in this world with an agility that he hasn’t often expressed. Small moments pop, and he becomes endearing in his own neurotic way. To see him act opposite Shelton is to see something sweet and pure, even by Shelton movie standards. You can tell that they both brought out the best in each other.
It’s tough to think that Shelton’s not going to drop by every few years with a new movie. She felt like one of those reliable names that would always be there, constantly improving and shifting her style just slightly. Even in stories like Touchy Feely (2013), she makes the massage world explore how we’re all looking for a genuine connection (literally and figuratively). She had so much to say without being obvious about it.
She required you to lean in and listen, finding genuinely interesting people where you least expected it. In a lot of ways, that was how Maron saw himself as well, equally searching for self-help and the next great interview. Together, they found something pure, and all we can do is be reminded of how we need to cherish those that we love, hoping to find moments of pure elation in collaboration that they did with Sword of Trust. Having that permanence proves that they were there and that they loved us. It’s their eternal thank you letter, and an evidence of Shelton’s warmth that will never go away.
Comments
Post a Comment