Ken Chapin Movies

Woody Allen blurs the the boundaries between the real and unreal in this unique comic fantasy. The scene is a small town in the mid-1930s. Trapped in a dead-end job and an abusive marriage, Cecelia (Mia Farrow) regularly seeks refuge in the local movie house. She becomes so enraptured by the latest attraction, an RKO screwball comedy called The Purple Rose of Cairo, that she returns to the theatre day after day. During one of these visits, the film's main character Tom Baxter (Jeff Daniels), pauses in his dialogue, turns towards the audience, and says to Cecelia, "My God, how you must love this picture." Then he climbs out of the movie, much to the consternation of the rest of the audience and the other characters on screen. Liberated from his customary black-and-white environs, he accompanies Cecelia on a tour of the town, eventually falling in love with her. Meanwhile, the other Purple Rose characters, unable to proceed with the film, carry on a discussion with themselves. Desperately, the RKO executives seek out Gil Shepherd, the actor who played the hero of Purple Rose. Shepherd (also played by Daniels), is sent to Cecelia's hometown to see if he can repair the damage. ~ Hal Erickson, Rovi

Slow-moving and dark, this Klute clone stars Talia Shire as Emily Hollander, a retiring, painfully introverted woman with a stutter who advertises her insecurity. She is attacked one day and her anguish recorded on tape by her assailant. It soon becomes apparent that her wacko lesbian neighbor Andrea (Elizabeth Ashley) is in love with her but too demented to express herself openly. She hired the assailant, though exactly why is not clear. Detective Bob Luffrono (Joseph Cortese) is called in to watch over Emily and perhaps corner her attacker. The relationship between Emily and the detective starts to slowly heat up, but meanwhile, there is Andrea with her telescope, spying on Emily and definitely up to no good. ~ Eleanor Mannikka, Rovi

A New York wife learns about the satisfactions of single life in this landmark 1970s "woman's film." Unlike her dysfunctional friends, vibrant Erica (Jill Clayburgh) seems to have it all: a nice Upper East Side home, a well-adjusted teenage daughter (Lisa Lucas), a job at a Soho art gallery, and a loving husband, Martin (Michael Murphy). Erica falls apart, however, when Martin leaves her for a younger woman. Finally, at her female therapist's urging, Erica ventures out into the world of singlehood, finding solace in female bonding and even casual sex. As she adjusts to her new life, Erica realizes that she likes her freedom and independence. But when she falls in love with sensitive bearded artist Saul (Alan Bates), Erica must decide whether to turn down a lucrative job to spend the summer with her man in Vermont or forge ahead with her new existence. One of a group of new "women's pictures" made in the wake of post-1960s feminism, including Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore (1974) and The Turning Point (1977), An Unmarried Woman updated the genre's concern with relationships and love by turning the heroine's unwedded status into a positive growth experience. The great female stars of the past like Joan Crawford and Bette Davis may be gone, as Erica and her friends mourn, but so is the all-consuming suffering of classical weepies, as writer/director Paul Mazursky ends the film on a note of reserved affirmation. While some critics (including feminists) complained that Saul was too much of a romantic fantasy, An Unmarried Woman was praised for Clayburgh's performance, and earned Oscar nominations for Best Picture, Best Actress, and Best Screenplay. A hit with 1978 audiences, An Unmarried Woman provoked viewer debate over Erica's final choice and its meaning for women. Either way, An Unmarried Woman astutely pointed to how far the new 1970s woman had come -- and how far she still needed to go. ~ Lucia Bozzola, Rovi