2/23/07: The Lonely Lady (1983)A potboiler like
The Lonely Lady was laughingly outdated when it hit the theaters back in 1983. We heard the laughs ourselves on the night that the film opened. Despite our official status as a Young Republican (or maybe Young American for Freedom), we didn’t pick up on any conservative content. It was a surprise to just now discover that
The Lonely Lady is, in fact, a kitschy giant worthy of RightWingTrash.
We only watched the film earlier this week as part of our plan to catch up on
the complete filmography of Kendal Kaldwell—who’s unfairly forgotten as one of the most unlikely sex symbols of trashy ’80s cinema.
The Lonely Lady was one of her few major films. It’s telling that Kaldwell got this big-studio gig after her defining work in the notorious women’s-prison film
Chained Heat. This is the only kind of movie where they’d enthusiastically cast anyone coming off of
Chained Heat.
The Lonely Lady opens at an awards presentation ceremony. That’s how a smiling reporter announces the thing: “Hollywood’s most glamorous event—the Awards Presentation Ceremony!” Those aren’t giant Oscars lined up in the background, but a close enough approximation that we all get the idea.
Pia Zadora is seen walking into the Awards Presentation Ceremony. There are lots of excited film fans outside, but they ignore Pia. She can’t be anyone important. She doesn’t have an escort. A flashback, however, reveals that Pia (playing Jerilee Randall, but she’s always Pia) is a screenwriter who once won a creative writing award in her California high school.
Pia’s professional career gets off to a bumpy start. The bad news is that she’s raped with a garden hose by Ray Liotta. The good news is that it happens on the lawn of famed screenwriter Lloyd Bochner, who takes in the poor waif as his protégé. Pia’s mother isn’t too thrilled with anything the teen is doing. “Writing,” Mom scoffs. “I was hoping you’d do something useful with your life.” (“Two thumbs up,” raves RightWingTrash’s parents!)
Pia’s mother is even unhappier when Pia announces that she’s marrying Bochner. To be fair, Pia isn’t subtle in announcing her intentions: “I enjoy being with him! I admire him! I want to go to bed with him!”
“I am not listening to this!” screams Pia’s mom. Half the audience on opening night felt the same way.
Pia gets married and publishes her first book. She quotes her husband a line from a review:
“‘Sensitive and perceptive stories which vividly demonstrate the inadequacy of liberal values in the face of evil.’ What does that mean, Walter?”
“It means your stories vividly demonstrate the inadequacy of liberal values in the face of evil.”
We don’t know how we missed that back in 1983. Suddenly, we’re really cheering on our young heroine.
She needs our support, too. Pia’s impotent old husband turns bitter after she improves one of his screenplays. She divorces him, publishes her second novel, and can’t get representation as a screenwriter because she’s a woman. Pia ends up working as a hostess in a restaurant run by her cokehead boyfriend. He pimps out his waitresses, and ultimately does the same to Pia—who reluctantly sleeps with a millionaire’s wife under the impression it’ll get her screenplay produced.
Once she learns it was all a cruel (though sexy) hoax, Pia has one of modern cinema’s great breakdown scenes. It’s the main reason that
The Lonely Lady is a classic. Then Pia recovers from her catatonic state and finally gets her screenplay produced—except this time, she has to sleep with the sister of the vice-president of the studio.
The sister’s played by Kendal Kaldwell. Boy, is she strangely sexy. It’s a shame that Pia drew the line at simulating sex in any of this film’s lesbian scenes. Maybe she was influenced by the character she was playing. We still say that
The Lonely Lady would’ve been bigger than
Star Wars if we’d gotten a sex scene between Pia and Kendal.
Then we’re back at the Awards Presentation Ceremony, where Pia is nominated for Best Original Screenplay. She wins, goes up to the podium, and meekly announces that she slept her way to the top and that everyone in Hollywood is the scum of the earth.
Pia walks out of the auditorium to jeers, and strides into the night. She remains alone—except for soul legend Larry Graham. We can hear him crooning about the lonely lady in what’s truly his most embarrassing moment. Yes, she’s the lonely lady. She’s a Hollywood screenwriter who vividly demonstrates the inadequacy of liberal values in the face of evil.
Make it your own: It’ll be a big campy deal when
The Lonely Lady—aka
Harold Robbins’ The Lonely Lady, and you could’ve guessed that—is finally made available on DVD. Until then, pick up the few
cheap VHS copies that are left on the market. And enjoy your Oscar Night viewing, although it can only pale next to the spectacle we’ve just discussed.
