As one of the formative voices in the New Hollywood movement, Paul Mazursky had quite a distinct style, which he carefully constructed through a series of melancholy comedies throughout the 1970s and 1980s. Some of them, such as Next Stop, Greenwich Village and Enemies: A Love Story, are very personal to the director, while others are the result of his observational tendencies, his gift for capturing the human condition in a way that is deeply emotional and drawn directly from his experiences as an artist with a firm but gentle grasp on his cultural surroundings. An Unmarried Woman is amongst his most significant triumphs, with the story of a woman navigating life just after her divorce striking quite a raw nerve with many audiences over the years, the director’s deep and unflinching approach to representing these events making it much more captivating than the more blase divorce comedies that sprung up around this time, its insights into the realities of the dating world being bitterly hilarious and often quite unsettling in its own way. One of the many compelling films about a disintegrating marriage of the era, being just as insightful into the trials and tribulations of a relationship – both old and new – as canonical works like Ingmar Bergman’s Scenes from a Marriage and Robert Benton’s Kramer vs. Kramer (which are considered amongst the gold-standard of films focusing on marital strife and divorce), this film is an enthralling, bitingly funny and deeply moving elegy to the individuals who have walked away from a relationship and decided to undergo the daunting process of starting over, which isn’t always as easy as it would appear in theory.

The most celebrated aspect of this film – and quite deservedly so – is the performance being given by Jill Clayburgh, who plays the central character. A journeyman actress who had a few substantial roles in some forgettable projects in film (but who thrived on stage), An Unmarried Woman seemed like a revelatory moment for her, a performance in which she was able to command the screen in the same way that her work in the theatre brought her endless acclaim within certain circles. Despite being a comedy, An Unmarried Woman positions Erica as a tragic heroine, a woman who is working relentlessly to try and find a way forward after an earth-shattering revelation that ends her marriage – and in balancing both the humour and pathos, Clayburgh is turning in a truly captivating portrayal of a woman teetering dangerously close on a nervous breakdown, saved only by her own undying tenacity. The camera clearly loves her, with Mazursky always taking the opportunity to have the shot linger a few beats too long, since he knew that he’d capture something subtle in Clayburgh’s remarkable expressivity, which is present from the first frames of the film, right until the stunning conclusion. Not even established actors like the incredible Alan Bates (who may only make his entry into the film in the third act, but feels so natural in these surroundings) and Michael Murphy, are able to reach her level. Populated with many wonderful performances, An Unmarried Woman is really built on the unique and striking charms of its lead actress, who is turning in one of the great female performances of the 1970s, a decade that certainly was never at a loss for them.

What made Mazursky’s films so impactful was that, despite often being constructed as comedies, they weren’t afraid of having difficult conversations. An Unmarried Woman may be playing in a relatively upbeat key, but it doesn’t avoid the adult discourse surrounding the realities of a marriage falling apart. Too many films that use a divorce as its starting point are far too quick to show the scorned partner bouncing back without any difficulty, immersing themselves in the world of single people and finding an endless array of potential partners with whom they can both have their carnal cravings satisfied, and gain the attention they sought after ending a long-term relationship, which is obviously far from the reality in most instances. There is a harsh, acidic tone to the film that comes through when we least expect it – and the director’s ability to balance the humorous situations with a deep and often heartbreaking portrayal of a woman’s journey, is absolutely staggering, the gritty realism that underpins the film being absolutely extraordinary and almost entirely unexpected. The film doesn’t always get the tone right – scenes we’d imagine would be more positive come across extremely bleak, and some of the most complex conversations occur in hilarious situations. However, it seems like it was all an intentional choice on the part of Mazursky, who captures a particular atmosphere with such sincerity, it’s difficult to see this as anything other than a genuine and honest depiction of the challenges that come with a marriage, and the obstacles that occur when one has to step away from it and start anew.

Despite being constructed as a woman about a woman seeking a relationship, An Unmarried Woman is much deeper. This is a film not necessarily about dating and marriage, but the search for a human connection, a spark of meaning to exist between two people that helps them fill the void of loneliness that they have felt as a result of their deep insecurities. Erica is a captivating character because she is realistic – she is not a woman that wants to be alone, but she is also frightened. All she has ever known is her humdrum life with her dull husband, living a life of pure routine, and suddenly being thrust into a version of the world that she barely recognizes. Anchored by Clayburgh’s phenomenal performance, An Unmarried Woman really does well in unpacking the main character’s deepest insecurities and making us absolutely adore her, even when the film can be quite cynical at many points. It doesn’t always transpire in the way we’d expect – the most charming potential love interest turns out to be heavily flawed, exiting the film just as fast as he arrived, and it’s only towards the end, after countless attempts at igniting a spark of passion with a range of men, that Erica finds one that doesn’t only satisfy her physical needs, but feeds her soul. The film is structured around a woman realizing that in order to find the right person, someone needs to find themselves, and in the process of learning self-respect and the value of loving herself before she tries to give love to others, she discovers a confidence she was never able to make use of in her marriage. The film is a masterful exploration of the protagonist’s psychological state, and while it is nearly always kept quite funny, the more serious and sobering moments leave a remarkable impact and provoke some deep thought towards our own relationships and how we dealt with these challenges, whether past and present.

There’s something so endearing about a film like An Unmarried Woman, which is centred around a story that should be challenging and uncomfortable based on the premise that surrounds it, but yet we can’t help but feel captivated by the intricate nature of the story. Mazursky had a wonderful eye for detail, which he frequently demonstrated in these stunning stories of the human condition, which he normally filtered through the lens of a lovable comedy built from the nuances of the dramatic material that informs it. It’s not difficult to see exactly why he was such a celebrated director – he could fashion the most exquisite stories from the most seemingly paltry material, inciting deep discussions from something as simple as a marriage drama. His gifts for storytelling, and his ability to bring out the best in every one of his actors, is well-documented in this film, where Jill Clayburgh turns in one of the best performances of the decade, and is surrounded by a supporting cast that does just that, bolstering her strengths through leaving their own indelible impression. The film can sometimes challenge us in unexpected ways, and it refuses to adhere to the rules of most romantic comedies, where everything is far too convenient to be considered realistic. It’s a stunning piece of intimate, psychologically-charged filmmaking that deftly juggles comedy and drama, and emerges an absolutely triumphant story of working through one’s personal challenges, and finding oneself through the process of getting to know the value of the people who surround us, which can sometimes teach us the value of both introspection, and a well-needed leap of faith from time to time.