Une femme libre

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!

Paul Mazursky's AN UNMARRIED WOMAN belongs to a minor genre of films from the late 1970s/early 80s mockingly referred to as survivor pictures. The said survival was of, well, everyday life -- dating, marriage, divorce, child custody battles, etc. -- as endured bravely by upper middle class urbanites. In essence, the movies finally recognized the day-to-day life that real people had been coping with since the beginning of civilized time -- and which television had been dealing with for decades on "As the World Turns," "Days of Our Lives" and "All My Children." Some of these attempts to find nobility in everyday survivors where okay (STARTING OVER), some tiresomely self important (KRAMER VS. KRAMER) and some just barely bearable, like AN UNMARRIED WOMAN.

WOMAN deals with Erica (Jill Clayburgh), a middle aged, middle class Manhattan housewife who suddenly discovers that her husband has fallen in love with a younger woman and wants a divorce. She responds with predictable anger and outrage, before settling down to the business of "surviving." Divorce is never easy, but as divorcees go, Erica has it awfully good. She is blessed with, in no particular order, a guilt-ridden ex-husband who churns out the checks; a supportive teenaged daughter, who apparently has little interest in her dad; an ad hoc support group made up of girlfriends who cheerfully share in male-bashing self-righteousness; and an indulgent female therapist adept at nodding her head in mechanical approval and dispensing dime-store encouragement. And when it comes time to get back into action, she has no trouble findings a couple of hunky guys, who, by the way, are artists, not boring old businessmen like her ex-hubby, Martin. In short, female bonding goes on all over the place and men are put in their place as convenient sex objects.

Indeed, divorce seems to be a blessing in disguise. Compared to the heroines of films like ALICE DOESN'T LIVE HERE ANYMORE or NORMA RAE, Erica seems to have it pretty darn good. And that is a major problem in the film: it is noticeably lacking drama. Had the film been played more for humor, then Erica's newfound awaking might have had a joyous kick. Instead, Mazursky labors to make serious, i.e., feminist statements about the travails of being a woman in contemporary America. But, boy did he pick the wrong woman to use as a poster child. Since Erica really doesn't have any discernible hardships in her life, the film falls back on the last refuge of feminist self-pity: self-esteem. AN UNMARRIED WOMAN is about Erica learning to feel good about herself. ZZZZZzzzzzzzz.....!

Maybe because I am a male, I found Erica's journey to self-awareness boring. Jill Clayburgh, who plays Erica, was the actress du jour of the era. She had the curious ability to seem sad even when she was happy and vulnerable even as she was being hard-bitten. Unfortunately, this is the way she came off whether the role required it or not. It is what the role of Erica required, but even so I have never found Clayburgh to be a particularly likable actress; she behaves like she is in the movies because she doesn't have a choice. She is not a giving actress. Erica seem perpetually annoyed that she even has to "survive" and Clayburgh acts as though she has something else she'd rather be doing.

Again, perhaps because I am a man, I found the relatively minor character of Erica's husband to be more compelling and more complex. Played by Michael Murphy like an extension of his role in Woody Allen's MANHATTAN, Martin is a cliche -- a middle-aged man walking away from a comfortable marriage in search of something to revitalize his life -- but as cliches go, it is a valid one. Murphy gives a glimpse of a man in emotional and philosophical turmoil; it is a performance that vividly reveals more in a few short scenes than Clayburgh does with all of Erica's tiresome whining. We see why he wanted out of his marriage to Erica, but not why he'd want back in.

Mazursky is not a great director or a particularly skillful writer, but he is even worse as an editor. He has no sense of pace and loves to let scenes ramble far beyond their point of impact. But in his best films, such as BOB & CAROL & TED & ALICE, MOSCOW ON THE HUDSON and DOWN AND OUT IN BEVERLY HILLS he gently mocks self-absorbed, trendy twits. Here, instead of teasing the foibles of his New Yorker of choice, he embraces her. He wants us to know he understands feminine/feminist angst. In a strange way, AN UNMARRIED WOMAN is less about a woman or even women, than about a man trying to prove his liberal credentials by pandering to feminist stereotypes. As such, a film that strives to be realistic ends up being condescendingly phony.

"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.

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"!

Didn't anyone else notice that when Martin was crying there were no tears? How incredibly self-serving!

I agree with the poster that said Jill Clayburgh doesn't give much. Everything is said in a matter-of-fact fashion with very little emotion. I love the scene where she is getting dressed after having had sex with Alan Bates (yummy in this movie, BTW), she acts as though she just had a pedicure or something.

I watched the chopped up WE channel version, so I might have missed something, but it was all very emotionless.

I did think it was really dated. How could it not be?