New documentary explores obsessive love of man with Asperger's

The documentary is screening at the San Francisco DocFest Oct. 17-Nov. 6. Here's the blurb about the film, "I think we're alone now:"

When it comes to tales of unrequited love, everyone has one to report, but tell us, dear reader, whether the following yarn resembles anything you’ve ever experienced: In the mid-’80s, a loner named Jeff Turner falls madly in love with
redheaded mall princess Tiffany. Shortly thereafter, unbeknownst to crazed fan numero uno, an “intersex” person by the name of Kelly McCormick bumps into the pop starlet in a California shopping center, exchanges contact info and engages in a subsequent seven-hour phone gab about all things teen: clothes, pop culture and cute guys.

In case you’re wondering, their stories have already been made into a documentary called—you guessed it—I Think We’re Alone Now by Santa Cruz native Sean Donnelly and co-producers Phil Buccellato and Jordy Cohen. Screening at October’s SF DocFest, the film examines the inner workings of the charismatic Turner, who suffers from Asperger’s syndrome—a high-functioning form of autism—and McCormick, who channels her obsession through a relentless fitness regime (she claims to have competed at the Olympic track-and-field trials in 1996).

Donnelly, who calls Turner and McCormick friends and even shared a hotel room with them after a Tiffany concert in 2006, reminds us that most of us have fallen victim to the pain of obsession.

“Jeff and Kelly have radical versions of normal feelings, but that’s what’s fascinating about them,” says Donnelly, a recent graduate of NYU’s film school. “I can relate. I once read a bio about Kurt Cobain and knew how old he was when his parents got divorced, his favorite snacks. Especially if you don’t have any true connections with people, knowing every single thing about a person can make you feel closer to them.”

Toward this end, Turner spent $13,000 on a crystal-adorned “radionic psychotronic” headset that he uses to communicate telepathically with his dearly beloved. McCormick, on the other hand, retreats to a dark Denver apartment bedecked with hundreds of photographs of the two-hit wonder. In 2004, upon hearing of Tiffany’s second marriage, McCormick unsuccessfully attempted suicide.

The documentary, six years in the making, doesn’t try to explain Turner and McCormick’s obsession via testimony from medical professionals. Nor does it try to substantiate the claims made by its subjects—serving as an unapologetic platform, you could say, for two lovelorn people to tell their stories. “Some would say Jeff and Kelly aren’t the most reliable sources,” Donnelly says. “Whatever you hold as truth affects the way you live your life. We can all relate to this—even if some of us are slightly delusional.”