Angel On My Shoulder (1997)


Twenty years after stripping bare in Nashville, Welles is stripped bare, in almost all senses, in this chronicle that is part amazing, part exasperating, always complelling. Here is a woman remaining toujours wacky—it is Welles’s mode—even as the medical bulletins thud into her weakening body and confidence. She has long days of whininess, but don’t we all. She has seeming lapses of sanity (same comment). And sometimes we feel should be understudying Quentin Tarantino understudying Audrey Hepburn. “I’ve suddenly realized I’m gay,” she cries one day, in a line out of True Romance via Breakfast at Tiffany’s with a bit of The Children’s Hour. Deitch film puts all human life into a bungalow, sharpening it with the imminent visit of death.