Single Room Furnished

Jayne Mansfield dons three different guises to play one slow-talking, slightly zonked woman (her idea of being sultry is to dawdle over every other word--or maybe she thinks she's being dramatic?). It's a tacky, flashback-framed fiasco that is filled with two-person scenes, and in every sequence the characters keep saying each other's names: "Hey, Flo?" "Yes, Charlie?" "You know what, Flo?" "What, Charlie?" A tired and amateurish farewell to Mansfield, who, contrary to popular belief, was not beheaded before its release. After perishing in an auto crash, a newswire photo flashed across the globe featuring Jayne's blonde wig next to the crushed car's right-front tire. Rumor quickly spread that it was her head, but rest assured Mansfield's head was attached to her body when she died. *1/2 from ****

Also three stories united in one, originally. "Miss Negligee"(Jayne Mansfield) could really play and even very good, this film proves it fully. She plays here 3 different roles and she plays them with a lot of talent, she is credible, convincing. And those are roles of depth, not the dumb blonde as she had been advised to play in all her other films. The other actors are also very good, especially Dorothy Keller, in a role in the spirit of Giulietta Masina in "The Nights of Cabiria".

I thoroughly enjoyed `Single Room Furnished,' a beautiful film about quiet desperation. The cinematic equivalent to a Graham Greene novel, this darkly daring film centers on Maria, an irrepressible girl in her teens played by the very catching Terri Messina (who looks a bit like Marlo Thomas and Mary Tyler Moore, only hotter) and the desolate trifecta character of Johnnie / Mae / Eilene, played by Jayne Mansfield.

Pop (Billy M. Greene) tells Maria the story of Johnnie's lowly life, as if it were one of Hilaire Belloc's `Cautionary Tales for Children,' against a backdrop of real, unadorned people in their real, drab existence. Director Matt Cimber, in his debut feature film, illustrates the ruthlessness and dreariness of life and how it gleefully pulverizes people who never had a chance. It's not a satirical film, just a bleak soul-shriveler of the cruelest kind. Throughout, Mansfield conceals a depth of softness and vulnerability, hinting that there's always a hopefulness hidden under her sobs and disappointment. The feel-good film of the year this isn't (Mansfield even died before the movie was completed)! But, if you're looking for a quiet tale about human nature and want to see how the majority of American people feel, definitely watch this one!

NYC apartment super Pop tells rebellious girl Maria about the dangers the city presents to young women. Johnie (Jayne Mansfield) and her husband Frankie used to live in the apartment but they grow apart. She gets pregnant and he leaves her. She has a miscarriage and changes her name to Mae. There is another couple Flo and Charley. Charley took pity on Mae who's pregnant again and proposed to her. He changes his mind and married Flo instead. Mae puts the baby for adoption, changes her name to Eileen and becomes a prostitute.

Jayne Mansfield tries to do some dramatic acting. This is notable for her death before she finished filming. Her acting is functional. She won't get any awards but she's not the problem with this movie. The directions are horrendous. Director Matt Cimber does little more than point the camera at a stage play. The settings are amateurish. His eye for visuals is lacking. The editing style is boring. Much of the problem is the disjointed nature of the movie. Some of that disconnected feel may be due to Mansfield's death. However it's not covered well at all. The dialog is clunky. It is slow. This is a bad movie.

At the height of her fame, Jayne Mansfield marketed hot water bottles shaped like her notorious 41-18-26 superstructure; sold her used bath water for $10 a shot; reportedly had 1,000,000 lines of copy devoted to her during a six month period in New York alone; and was considered a serious threat to Marilyn Monroe as the world's #1 blonde bombshell. Unfortunately, a relentless drive toward increasingly tacky publicity stunts quickly labeled Mansfield more an event than an actress. By the mid 1960's, her celebrity was renowned, but the star 20th Century Fox once valued at a reported $20 million was adrift without a major studio, appearing in tawdry European film productions and touring in a campy nightclub act. 1966 saw Mansfield hit near-bottom: overweight, alcoholic and dependent on pills, the fading sex goddess was at the nadir of her film career, appearing in worthless dreck like "Las Vegas Hillbillies.": Her current husband, Matt Cimber, however, still fed into her belief that, with the right project, she could become a serious actress. To that end, he directed her first "serious" drama since 1957's "Wayward Bus," a gritty little script called "Single Room, Furnished." In keeping with the film's seedy urban setting, the sets are tacky and threadbare, with a blaring jazz soundtrack. Jayne plays three roles: a teenage bride, a pregnant cocktail waitress, and a call girl. (As one columnist sniffed about the then-unmade film, "Should get into real ART when Jayne plays the teenager!") To Cimber's credit, he elicted a performance from Mansfield which, if not exactly good, is hypnotic and eminently watchable. In most of her films, Mansfield is over-upholstered window dressing; here, she is not given much room to be attractive, and even as the call girl, she's a far cry from her halcyon days at Fox. Therefore, it's to her credit that, without the benefit of silver lame, wriggling undulations or bare-breasted antics, she maintains our interest. It's a hauntingly poetic performance, completely guileless and technically lacking, but somehow very honest. At this point in her life, perhaps Mansfield knew something of her character's sadness and loneliness. On June 29, 1967, Mansfield was killed in a car accident; "Single Room, Furnished" was still incomplete, so additional scenes were shot with the supporting cast. Surprisingly, these scenes are remarkably touching, focusing on the romance between "Flo" and "Charlie." This isn't a good film, by any stretch of the imagination, but it is rather moving, and a sad, quiet postscript to the otherwise gaudy phenomenon of Jayne Mansfield.