Review of the Adrienne Shelly film Waitress

Waitress. It’s a gem of a film, one that manages to hold all kinds of opposing stylistic forces inside of itself. It is broad and subtle, campy and utterly real, hilarious and scary, often all in the same scene. There isn’t a weak performance in the bunch, and I think a lot of the credit goes to director, Adrienne Shelly. She must have had a steady (yet firm and resolute) hand in guiding these actors, given all of the unexpected choices made. She managed to get major buy-in from the actors, which can only occur in an atmosphere of absolute trust. The ability of a director to create that kind of atmosphere is a rare one.

There are so many moments inside of this brave independent that you rarely, if ever, see in a commercial film. The entire relationship between Jenna (Keri Russell’s star turn as the waitress of the title) and her fresh-off-the-boat-from-Connecticut gynocologist (played by Nathan Fillion) is built on these moments. It’s a monument to cringing, unavoidable, yet somehow sexy awkwardness. Their affair feels inevitable and out of their control, and occupies this odd space outside the moral universe. You neither judge nor celebrate their affair, you don’t root for the end nor desperately pray that they’ll end up together, but you are completely engaged by it, nonetheless. How did Shelly pull that off? It’s amazing to me.

The supporting cast is nearly perfect as well: Cheryl Hines (one of the most under-appreciated comic actors around) and Shelly are both larger-than-life and completely believeable as Jenna's co-waitress confidantes. Andy Griffith makes a comeback as the crotchety regular with a heart of gold, and Jeremy Sisto does his usual solid job of portraying the handsome and the crazy. They are all a pleasure to watch.

Shelly's brutal murder was tragic and awful for so many plainly human reasons, but also because her utterly unique voice as a filmmaker was silenced way too soon.

See this film if you haven’t. There’s nothing else like it.