After leaving L.A., and making only one public appearance since — on a widely condemned mental illness episode of 'Dr. Phil' — the complicated actress sat down for a conversation with The Hollywood Reporter about her legacy and the trauma of the Stanley Kubrick film: "To wake and realize that you had to cry all day, I don’t know how I did it."

Out on the tranquil banks of a river in Texas Hill Country, Shelley Duvall pulls up in a white Toyota 4Runner. Her favorite place to sit is in the driver's seat. It's also the only place to sit: The rest of the car is filled from floor to roof with a crush of acquisitions, including a bucket of plastic silverware, a jar of Green Giant sliced mushrooms and a bouquet of silk roses. Duvall, 71, passes entire days in her car, chatting with locals and snacking on takeout food. She shares a home in the area with Dan Gilroy, 76, a member of the early Madonna band Breakfast Club. Gilroy was briefly romantically linked to the singer but has been with Duvall since 1989, the two having fallen in love while co-starring in the Disney Channel movie Mother Goose Rock 'n' Rhyme. Produced by Duvall, it featured an all-star cast (including Duvall's former boyfriend Paul Simon) and has become an abiding cultural touchstone among millennials.

There's little chance that any passersby would recognize Duvall as Little Bo Peep from that movie — or, for that matter, as Wendy Torrance from The Shining, the part for which she is best known. Her hair has thinned and grayed, her breathy, Minnie Mouse voice gone gravelly (she chain-smokes Parliaments) and her trademark stick figure — the one she used to full advantage playing Olive Oyl in Robert Altman's Popeye — has filled out. But there are tells. Her eyes still sparkle, even from a distance. And her toothy grin is warm and familiar.

Duvall arrives making jokes and raving about the cherry scones at the cafe next door. A waitress skips down the steps with one in hand and passes it to her through the car window. "Heaven," Duvall says as she takes a bite. Later, the waitress, Kristina Keller, a 50-something with a Texas twang, pulls me aside. "I'm not sure who you are," she says. "But out here amongst these rural Hill Country communities, we look out for each other and we take care of each other. Does that make sense?"

SOURCE: https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/features/searching-for-shelley-duvall-the-reclusive-icon-on-fleeing-hollywood-and-the-scars-of-making-the-shining