Directed by Paul Mazursky and originally released in 1978, “An Unmarried Woman” was critically acclaimed and nominated for three Academy Awards: Best Picture, Best Original Screenplay, and Best Actress, and was billed as “About Women of Our Age and Time.” Jill Clayburgh stars as Erica Benton, an educated and cultured Upper East Side mom and art-gallery assistant, whose husband, Martin (Michael Murphy), a Wall Street executive, leaves her for a younger woman.
I had first seen this film as a teenager, and rewatching it now in my late thirties, I was delighted by its relevance and how masterfully it explored femininity with such honesty and whimsy. The opening credits span across the New York City skyline, accompanied by a delightful score by Bill Conti that perfectly encapsulates the soundtrack of that era. Saxophones and horns serenade us into the first scene where we see Erica and her husband running alongside the West Side Highway, and we witness them having a fight. It's our first glimpse into their marital dynamic. They fight but quickly resolve it, and then we see them getting ready for the day, happy and affectionate with one another. Obviously, with its title, we understand that this relationship is doomed from the start, but the first 30 minutes show so beautifully how relationships are nuanced and complicated. In one moment, we can be fighting, and the next moment, we are clinging for connection.
Long before Carrie Bradshaw pondered relationships and life with the help of her girlfriends, Erica Benton sat around a restaurant table with her girlfriends, discussing sex, desire, relationships, independence, and the fear of loneliness. The story is perfectly encapsulated when Erica tells her husband how much she loves these dinners, describing them as “...part Mary Hartman, part Ingmar Bergman.” This line serves as a poetic foreshadowing of how the film would explore femininity and womanhood. Mary Hartman, a satirical soap opera of the 1970s created by Norman Lear, examined social issues, while Ingmar Bergman, one of the most prominent filmmakers of his time, delved into the lives of women, influencing filmmakers like Woody Allen, Robert Altman, and, of course, Paul Mazursky himself.
In one of my favorite scenes at the beginning of the film, Erica is alone in her apartment, her husband having just left for work and their daughter for school. The camera narrows in on her face, she begins a monologue as a TV presenter introducing “the long-awaited debut of Erica Benton”... and she begins to ballet dance through her apartment. These moments so perfectly display that we exist between the realm of our girlhood dreams and the reality of womanhood. We later see this through line so beautifully when Erica and her daughter sit at a piano and sing the Paul McCartney song “Maybe I'm Amazed”. It is one of many tender moments between mother and daughter, and highlights how their relationship is examined with honesty and care, and in rewatching it now as a mother myself, I was inspired by the openness that existed between them.
As the film progresses, the film delves into the reality of divorce and the independence of single life, showcasing how these themes remain relevant regardless of our life stage. The scenes between Erica and her therapist serve to validate her feelings and explore the challenges women face, whether it's the fear of loneliness and isolation, the confusion brought on by change, or the feelings of inadequacy that arise as we age. The dialogue between each character is well-crafted and always feels true. In another tender scene where Erica is lounging in bed with her friends, engrossed in magazines and discussing film stars and pop culture, one of them begins to cry and says, “Self-esteem. I could write a book on self-esteem. Self-esteem and the American woman. Once divorced, sleeping around, drinking too much, pretending to have a lot of self—you-know-what but really having next to none…” They all lean in and embrace her in that moment, acknowledging the truth that was just shared.
Another surprising element of the film is its refusal to resort to a cliché ending. Erica encounters a charming and successful artist played by Alan Bates. She allows herself the opportunity to be curious and open with him in ways she never expected. As a viewer, you witness her growth and maturity as she embraces her newfound freedom. However, the film maintains its integrity by staying true to the honesty that forms the foundation of her character and her journey throughout the film and embraces an ambiguous ending.
This film is beautiful in so many ways, both aesthetically and thematically. In one of the earlier scenes where Jill Clayburgh’s character is being pursued by one of the artists at the gallery that she works at, she asks him, “Don't you think of anything else (but sex),....like literature, ballet, theater, dance, and architecture…”. I was reminded of the many felt myself return to many moments like it that I have had in my life and so appreciated how it truly expressed what so many women want to be inspired by and endeavour to nourish their lives with.
I felt like I had nourished myself with a delightful meal in rewatching this film and hope you’ll be as inspired to give yourself over to your own creative expressions and find a moment of liberty and that “An Unmarried Woman" will inspire you in your life and make you love the women in your lives even more.
Erica’s Therapist-
“ Well, one thing I'd do a lot of what you're doing right now. I'd be,....I'd spend a lot of time with my friends, ....as you're doing. .. And I'd also ...sort of take myself by the hand and say "Come on Tanya" get into the stream of life. Get back in there. Don't be scared of going out with guys. Let's open the door and walk out and get in the stream of life…”