Tag Archives: An Unmarried Woman

Love in “Star Wars,” “An Unmarried Woman,” and “Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore”

When I heard that Carrie Fisher was dead I quoted Princess Leia:  “Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi.  You’re my only hope.” It was the only quote I remembered from Star Wars.

For decades I quoted Leia’s plea in times of moderate stress. You call  on Obi-Wan Kenobi because he’s not a god; he’s some kind of philosopher, and it’s not crucial to call on the gods for every small problem, because what if they send down thunder? The sense of it in 2026 is:  “Hey, if  Obi-Wan Kenobi is out there, help!” 

In 1977, when George Lucas’ Star Wars was released, it was a  pioneering science fiction film, because a woman, Carrie Fisher, had a central role. I was intrigued by the powers of Princess Leia (Carrie Fisher), who is a senator, diplomat, and commander in the rebel forces.

Naturally, there are quasi-love scenes. You cannot bring two attractive people together, Princess Leia and Han Solo (Harrison Ford), without sexual tension. Their rocky, sassy relationship turns into a flirtation rather than a commitment. 

On the other hand there is Paul Mazursky’s film,”  An Unmarried Woman (1978), which centers on love, though it’s ostensibly not about love but about independence. Without Jill Clayburgh , this movie would not have worked: It charts Erica’s swift transition from grief to autonomy after her husband leaves her.

I used to love this movie, but it seems dated. The odd thing  is there is no sense of before and after.  One minute Erica is making love with her husband; the next he confides that he is leaving her for a younger woman.  She has the bad dates, and the misguided sex. Overall she is spunky, a word I hate, and Clayburgh does her best not to be just “spunky,”  but it’s hard to avoid.

Here’s what I didn’t notice in 1978:  Erica has no financial problems.  She  lives in an enormous apartment in Manhattan, and that’s part of the fantasy, but it’s also a let-down for the viewer who lives in the real world. Divorce is dark, terrifying, and painful, but most women worry about finances, unlike Erica. Will they have to downsize?  Will they have to find a better-paying job?  (Erica works at an art gallery, presumably a low-paying job.) What about insurance?  Can they live without love?

Paul Mazurksy wrote and directed this film, and perhaps he needed a woman advisor, but thank God for Jill Clayburgh.

An Unmarried Woman seemed important in the ’70s, but Martin Scorsese did it better with Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (1974):  a working-class woman, Alice (Ellen Burstyn), has to support her herself and her son as a waitress after her husband dies. It’s the only job she can find.  Of course she has Kris Kristofferson eventually. That’s just like life, isn’t it?

Fascinating that the science fiction film has the most powerful woman. Next is the upper-class Erica in An Unmarried Woman (due to her husband’s wealth), and last is Alice in Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore.