An Unmarried Woman

I was 18 when I saw Jill Clayburgh in “An Unmarried Woman.” I loved her and I loved the film. I haven’t seen it in decades and I have a sneaking suspicion that it may not have weathered the years as well as I would have hoped, but certain iconic moments of Clayburgh’s excellent performance have stayed with me for over 30 years. When I mentioned the actress’s sad death at the age of 66 to a friend this weekend, her first thought was the same as mine: the scene in “An Unmarried Woman” where Clayburgh defiantly walks out of a lunch after her husband has just confessed that he is having an affair and wants out of the marriage. Clayburgh gets about half a city block, and then doubles over, vomiting while holding onto a mailbox. What made the scene so powerful was not just the actual (prop) vomit seen coming out of Jill’s mouth (a rarity in itself) but the intense emotional resonance of this act. Rarely has so much been conveyed by a cinematic puke. I’d put Clayburgh’s mailbox scene and Linda Blair’s projectile pea-soup a few years earlier in “The Exorcist” at the top of the list of Most Effective Body Fluid Expulsions on Film.

In its time, “An Unmarried Woman” became a pop culture watermark of the women’s liberation movement. Clayburgh wasn’t the first screen wife to be dumped by her husband for a younger model, but she was one of the first to tell said husband to go take a flying leap when he decided he wanted to come back to her. I think of Norma Shearer’s perfect Mary Haines in “The Women” whose husband Steven drops her for sexy and manipulative alley cat Crystal Allen played by Joan Crawford. As much as I love “The Women,” it’s always the other woman’s fault for any problems in the marriages of the female leads, the hapless husbands are never held responsible for their philandering ways. The final scene in “The Women” is of Mary opening up her loving arms to her idiot of a husband. Cue the cheers and applause. Not so in Jill Clayburgh’s more evolved world. I'm certainly not saying that couples can’t and shouldn’t get past such infidelities if possible, but Clayburgh’s evolution is that she comes to realize that there was a lot more wrong with her marriage than her husband's affair, and that she is truly better off on her own. Shocking! She can be happy…without…a…man? Yikes!

Another of my favorite scenes involves a fight Clayburgh has with her weak-willed stockbroker ex played by Michael Murphy. Raising her voice in his office, Murphy tries to shush her and says, “Do you want to have a discussion or an argument?”  “I WANT TO HAVE AN ARGUMENT,” Clayburgh shouts on the top of her lungs. Love it. Another groundbreaking feature of this film is the warm, supportive group of non-backstabbing female friends that Clayburgh has.

I also loved the relationship between Clayburgh and her teenaged daughter, played by the wonderful actress Lisa Lucas (whatever happened to her?). I can never hear any version of Paul McCartney's “Maybe I’m Amazed” without thinking of the poignant scene between Clayburgh and Lucas where they sing this song at the piano and begin their gradual healing from the huge disruption in their family. Director Paul Mazursky (who Charlie and I still see almost every morning at his Farmers Market coffee klatch) was truly gifted at showing, not telling. At the end of the film, when Clayburgh thankfully does NOT end up with her new “sensitive” painter boyfriend played by Alan Bates, she takes the gigantic painting he made for her and carries it home through the streets of Manhattan, struggling with the huge, awkward painting while slowly making her way back to her apartment. Brilliant. Still, “An Unmarried Woman” could have been deadly cloying if not for Clayburgh’s pitch-perfect performance. What a wonderful, real actress.

Kendall was very sad to hear of Clayburgh’s death. At the height of Clayburgh’s fame, she came to Kendall’s family's hotel room in New York because she was interested in playing the title character in a big screen version of Kendall’s mom’s book, “A Woman of Independent Means.” Unfortunately, the film never happened (years later it was made into a mini-series starring Sally Field), but the Haileys loved Clayburgh. Kendall’s strongest memory was of her fascination at watching Jill Clayburgh breastfeed her daughter right in front of them. (That daughter grew up to be the lovely actress Lily Rabe.) Clayburgh’s marriage to playwright David Rabe lasted more than 30 years. She died at home this weekend after dealing with chronic lymphocyctic leukemia for two decades.

I’ve seen Jill Clayburgh on the stage and on TV, as well as in a range of film roles including her turn as Kendall’s favorite Carole Lombard in the weird “Gable and Lombard” and her role in the creepy but fascinating “La Luna” which includes a scene of her masturbating her son (oy) to help with his heroin withdrawal. But I know she’ll forever be remembered as Erica Benton in “An Unmarried Woman.” I’m thinking of the wonderful scene in which Clayburgh dances around her Manhattan apartment in her underwear and, in a ballet of independence, eventually gathers all of her husband’s stuff into a pile to be discarded. The final shot in that scene is of Clayburgh removing her wedding ring and hurling it onto a table. I can still hear the women in that 1978 movie theatre cheering this revolutionary gesture. 

 

Comments

[Gordon]

Dear Danny,
I'm hugely relieved that film makers have finally gotten away from the cliche obligatory vomit scenes which are supposed to pass for a natural and believable reaction to every upsetting occurrence in a person's life. I found it disgusting, unnatural, and completely unbelievable. For many years, those stupid scenes ruined every single film I saw.
Thank you,
Gordon

[Danny]

You think barfing was a cinematic trend, Gordon? I do think it worked in "An Unmarried Woman." I might puke, too, if my spouse of 16 years dumped me over lunch.

[your wife]

Kendall Correction: It wasn't that I was fascinated by breastfeeding, it was that I was the only one in the room with a movie star, her baby and her breast. Mom had to take a phone call, Dad excused himself as quickly as possible with my sister Brooke following him as fast as she could and there I was! We all fell in love with Jill Clayburgh that day, starting when she opened the room service menu and shrieked, "Ten dollars for corned beef hash!" I always adored her as an actress. For someone like me who's always been in love with the thirties and forties, she was my saving grace of the seventies!

[OldOldLady Of The Hills]

I think you should watch this film again Danny..Because I think it DOES Hold Up, very very well! I saw it not that long ago....!
The folm that I will always remember Jill Clayburgh for is "Hustling"...She played a New York City street prositute named "Wanda"---And I thought she really WAS the real thing! It was a stunning performance that stayed with me and I was absolutely positive they had found this 42nd street prostitute who brought such a reality with her---It Was Startling! (Lee Remick played the reporter who is doing a story on NYC hustlers....it was based on a book by Gail Sheheey and she co-wrote the screenplay, I believe)...That performance and "Unmarried Woman" were two of the most wonderful pieces of acting by anyone, ever!
A brave woman in life and a brave Artist, too!

[OldOldLady Of The Hills]

Oh...and I forgot to say that I believe Jill Clayburgh Vomiting was a FIRST....! I don't recall ever seeing anyone throw up in a film in the graphic manner that took place in "Unmarried Woman"..and it was indeed, Memorable because of exactly what you said.

Now....almost every film made contains the gratuitious Throw-Up scene. It Is AWFUL!

[Decca]

Danny,

Do you remember Starting Over, in which Jill Clayburgh plays opposite a Burt Reynolds...and oh, Candice Bergen as Reynold's ex. So heartbreaking, so funny, and it made me want to be Clayburgh's best friend.

Thank you for this lovely tribute.

[Benjamin R Marcus]

For many of the reasons, esp the line you mention, this movie will hold up for a long long time,. Other lines that have the same bracing reality to them, if you'll permit me mostly because of the way they're spoken: "They're not meetings" she answers Martin defensively while getting undressed as he watches (early!) cable tv news scroll set to classical music. Meetings were what socialite Tippi Hedren had on her schedule once a week in "The Birds" - this was getting together "once a week to sit around and complain", as her friend puts it later. "You're ex-old man's a f*ckin' asshole", Gorman tells her (after his "Arividerla, my ass!"), before she sleeps with him, which of course is true, and how great that this small breasted woman with slightly crossed eyes could also be framed as a beautiful woman, (and rightly). "Ah, the awsome sanctity of marriage", is her sarcastic retort to the news of Martin's engagement. And daring and smart is the answer to the question "Where are all the women?" - that Fonda doesn't hold a candle to Hepburn. I could probably spend the next 2 hrs here. I was searching for the screenplay of A.U.W., one of my favorites, online and was delighted to find the title of your blog, (a favorite line of mine and the only way I can ever ask that question). Never seen your site before, and wished I saw a profile because I don't know who you are. I'll be mounting a new post soon on a site called "the architecture of film" I'm beginning, with some favorite scenes from AUW. Nice tribute.

[david]

I really like the 70's New York street scenes. Garbage piled up, a decided lack of glamor . . . oh, for the days...