Josephine Decker understands this kind of dynamic on a very deep level, and brings it to bear in "Shirley," her most ambitious film to date. Facing down ghosts is child's play compared to facing down a group of gossiping judgmental housewives. but she also wrote about the claustrophobia of small village life and the treachery among women. Jackson wrote about ghosts, haunted houses. If this sounds overheated, pick up a collection of Jackson's short stories. The women who "dab" banish the women who "rub" from the sisterhood of women: women who "rub" are beyond the pale and should be shunned for all time from polite society. There are women who know you should "dab" a stain, and there are women who didn't get the memo and instead rub the stain, making it worse. The moment expands in significance the more you think about it. Horrified, the elegant hostess rushes over, and when Jackson tries to rub the stain off, the hostess gasps, "Don't rub it! Dab!" She's more horrified that Jackson doesn't know the proper method of stain-removal than about the stain itself. Jackson ( Elizabeth Moss) sits on a couch at a faculty party, staring with hatred at the peppy prettily-dressed faculty wives, and then deliberately pours her glass of red wine onto the sofa. There's a small moment in "Shirley," directed by Josephine Decker, which is a perfect metaphor for Shirley Jackson's brand of literary horror.
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