Eine entheiratete Frau

Briefly, this is one of the few American films I have seen that is remotely a realistic depiction of how basically intelligent, decent, middle-class adults behave in a long-term relationship (in this case a marriage of sixteen years) when they break up. I almost felt as though I were watching a reality show from that era. This is how people behave, without much heroism or great insight into themselves or others; often with a "cluelessness" that defines our humanity more tellingly than our pride would like to hear. (An aside to the previous commenter: I have seen this sort of thing, close-up and personal, and this is pretty much how people act: it reminded me very much of how a couple with whom I was very close broke up, and the aftermath, in the decade before this film was made. And the man had been having an affair for several years before it happened, not just one: the woman had not a clue.) My only complaint is that the story ends far too soon and far too happily. But it is an American film (sigh!), so one most not expect too much: we just "cannot bear very much reality"!

"Erica" (Jill Clayburgh) is a happily married woman who lives in an upscale apartment in Manhattan with her husband "Martin" (Michael Murphy) and their teenage daughter "Patti" (Lisa Lucas). Then one day Martin discloses that he has been seeing another woman for over a year and wants a divorce. Needless to say, Erica is devastated by this news and from that point on this film showcases the various emotions she experiences along with the manner in which she adapts to her new life on her own. Now rather than reveal any more I will just say that this was a deep romantic-drama which benefited from an excellent performance on the part of Jill Clayburgh. On the other hand, however, there were also several scenes which were rather slow and the movie itself ran on a bit too long as well. Be that as it may, although this film is clearly geared to a female audience in general, it was still entertaining in its own right and I have rated it accordingly.

Jill Clayburgh gives a brilliant performance as a married wife and mother left for a younger woman. The movie touches all the different emotions felt and her rebirth as an independent individual. The scene in which Erica's husband tells her he has been cheating is great, and when Erica turns the corner and breaks down is really something to see.

This movie was made when divorce was still a hot topic and women were just coming into the workforce and still tied into identifying themselves through marriage. But the film is still relevant today (we all deal with rejection of one sort or another). The rest of the cast is superb and there are great shots of New York circa 1978.

Ten stars.

An Unmarried Woman was one of the best films from the late 70s/early 80s. It so completely captures a time and a place. It is a personal, perceptive story of a woman's marriage which crumbles to her total surprise. It ends up being a sort of comic--Americanized version (or more specifically New York version) of

"Scenes from a Marriage". Throughout the film we are introduced to one terrific personality after another--each distinctively drawn. From her affluent circle of friends, to the quirky, genuinely intriguing artistic types of the downtown art scene (Soho before it became SO commercial), to the assorted people she

meets on her journey of coping and understanding such as her therapist

(portrayed by the great psychologist and author, Penelope Russianoff, who was a fixture on New York's Upper Westside for years), we are treated to a wealth of fascinating characters. The movie resonates with warmth and understanding.

Jill Clayburgh's Erika is a contemporary tragic/comic heroine. She's beautiful and classy and funny and her emotions--for anyone who has gone through

divorce or separation or simply difficult marital situations--are absolutely dead- on accurate. What is very interesting some 25 years after the movie debuted is that it has not aged one single bit--the characters remain delightful, the

emotions as real as ever, and the New York milieu as varied and fascinating as it still is today (and probably always has been.) A great, entertaining, and endearing film!

When upon its theatrical release I first saw 'An Unmarried Woman' I thought it brilliantly captured the feminist outlook - not the radical feminist viewpoint but the growing awareness of the vast majority of ordinary women of new modalities for living. I just saw it again on DVD and my first impression of the film holds up. But through my having aged my perspectives have matured, and now I also find 'An Unmarried Woman' to be perhaps the finest capturing of 1977's zeitgeist - but only the zeitgeist of upper middle class New Yorkers (Mazursky better captured the wider 70's zeitgeist in 'Harry and Tonto).

Here Mazursky shows that, whatever else he is accused of being or doing or not-doing (with which I don't always agree or disagree), is a thoughtful director taking a good, long, realistic look at this drama and at more than just its central character. I liked that some scenes ran on for a bit longer than some people find necessary or comfortable, because this is how life's scenes often play out beyond one's wanting them to end swiftly and tidily: indeed, the slight overrunning of some scenes contributes what today might be called "value-added" realism to 'An Unmarried Woman.' After all, Erica has, involuntarily, been thrust into a new life in which she's not at ease in every one of its developing, novel situations.

The saxophone score - probably considered hip in 1977 - is today often more than a trifle annoying; but then it could be said that the score is part of the film's capture of the 70's zeitgeist: like all decades the 70's had its annoyances (not the least of which was the dismal monotony of disco, and all those decor-saturating browns, olives (avocado it was called!), honey-golds, and tawny oranges).

The cinematography here is quite good, nicely tailored to the film's intimate subject, situations, and relationships. Throughout the acting is uniformly good; Jill Clayburgh's effort here is, and will remain I expect, a cinema original and classic. I especially enjoyed - not when I first saw the film but much more so now in 2006 - Cliff Gorman's portrayal of self-satisfied, on-the-make Charlie. Andrew Duncan in the minor role of Bob lends great verisimilitude with his pre-"hair systems" comb-over but especially with the touch of about-to-be-over-the-hill despair in Bob's attempt to bed Erica; Bob demonstrates that most men in that decade, beginning as they were to be flummoxed by emerging liberated women and feminism, still clung to the suddenly obsolescent notion that a divorcée would and should be eager to remarry in order to traditionally assure her security and peace of mind.

At my first viewing I agreed with what Tanya, Erica's therapist, said to Erica about guilt being a manufactured, unnecessary emotion. But a good many more years of living have taught me that guilt is not manufactured, and that without it a person is doomed to emptiness and isolation, and a society is doomed to decadence, and even to barbarism. Rather Tanya should have held that guilt is natural, and that it is one's mature management of it that enables one to distinguish, in oneself and in others, venality and narcissism from generosity of spirit.

'An Unmarried Woman' still stands on its own - more as a socio-cultural than as a cinematic landmark. It's that rare kind of film that's worth watching every five or ten years, if only to help us to recall where we've come from, and to help us to profit from, or to enjoy, a sense of where we might be going.