In praise of Old Boyfriends, a long overlooked… | Little White Lies

In Praise Of

In praise of Old Boyfriends, a long over­looked por­trait of female identity

19 Jun 2021

Words by Caitlin Quinlan

Two people, a man and a woman, sitting at a bar and conversing in a warm, intimate setting. The man is wearing a red shirt, while the woman has a floral-patterned blouse. The lighting is cosy and amber-toned, creating a romantic atmosphere.
Two people, a man and a woman, sitting at a bar and conversing in a warm, intimate setting. The man is wearing a red shirt, while the woman has a floral-patterned blouse. The lighting is cosy and amber-toned, creating a romantic atmosphere.
Joan Tewkesbury’s sole direc­to­r­i­al effort stars Talia Shire as a woman on a jour­ney to redis­cov­er herself.

In psy­chol­o­gy, the act of trans­fer­ence occurs when some­one redi­rects their spe­cif­ic feel­ings about an indi­vid­ual onto an entire­ly dif­fer­ent per­son. It is some­thing we all do reg­u­lar­ly, uncon­scious­ly to some degree. How we have felt about oth­ers in the past and how their actions have affect­ed us can be eas­i­ly brought for­ward into the present, hin­der­ing new rela­tion­ships with old ailments.

Dianne Cruise (Talia Shire), the clin­i­cal psy­chol­o­gist pro­tag­o­nist of Joan Tewkesbury’s sole direc­to­r­i­al fea­ture, Old Boyfriends, is adept at trans­fer­ence. Fol­low­ing the break­down of her mar­riage, she’s on a jour­ney to recon­nect with three for­mer lovers – those who had the great­est impact on her life, pos­i­tive or neg­a­tive. She’s search­ing for a new sense of self and pur­pose; her belief in this Freudi­an phe­nom­e­non sug­gests that if she could under­stand bet­ter who she was when she was young and in love with these men, then she could learn who she is today. I’m not as impres­sive as I thought I would be,” she admits to one.

Dianne is not nec­es­sar­i­ly a char­ac­ter drawn out of the filmmaker’s own act of trans­fer­ence, but her quest for iden­ti­ty in a male-dom­i­nat­ed world feels in keep­ing with Tewkesbury’s own career path. She also went through a divorce and had tried to make her own film about it with a script she had writ­ten her­self. A child actor and dancer, Tewkes­bury broke into the indus­try as an adult with the help of direc­tor Robert Alt­man, who hired her as a script super­vi­sor on McCabe & Mrs Miller in the ear­ly 1970s. She went on to write the scripts for two of Altman’s films, Thieves Like Us (as co-writer) and Nashville.

Despite this, as she stat­ed in an inter­view for Maya Mon­tañez Smukler’s book Lib­er­at­ing Hol­ly­wood’, it — was — just — hard for the girls.” Where some­one like Alan Rudolph, anoth­er col­lab­o­ra­tor of Altman’s, could get his films financed, for Tewkes­bury it was out of the ques­tion. She was a film­mak­er who was, it seems, not allowed to realise her full potential.

Old Boyfriends stands as a testament to all those women filmmakers who were denied the same opportunities as their male counterparts.

Old Boyfriends, which was writ­ten by broth­ers Paul and Leonard Schrad­er (orig­i­nal­ly as Old Girl­friends), was the project she was final­ly entrust­ed with. In Tewkesbury’s hands, Dianne became an intri­cate­ly flawed and volatile char­ac­ter; Shire is fox-like in the film, cun­ning at times yet lack­ing assur­ance as she tries to define her own past and future by the men she has known. There is some­thing brazen­ly cryp­tic about her desires, but the film­mak­er rev­els in this insta­bil­i­ty. We often see Dianne reflect­ed in a mir­ror, search­ing for her­self and a sense of iden­ti­ty in her own gaze. She is a shapeshifter, a woman on the verge of los­ing her true form as she con­torts into history.

The film uses cos­tume and scenery to fur­ther illus­trate this. When Dianne vis­its the sec­ond of her exes, Eric (John Belushi), she floats around a dar­ing­ly red hotel room in fig­ure-hug­ging gowns to mim­ic the way he sex­u­alised her in the past – in high school, he had lied and told their class she had gone all the way” with him, a humil­i­a­tion that Dianne final­ly has the chance to re-enact on him lat­er in the film.

With her third boyfriend, who is dis­cov­ered to have died in the film’s most com­plex and destruc­tive nar­ra­tive thread, Dianne instead involves her­self with his younger broth­er Wayne (Kei­th Car­ra­dine), who has suf­fered severe men­tal health issues since his brother’s death. He is stuck in a state of depen­dent youth, mim­ic­ked by Dianne who, in these scenes, wears a girl­ish clip in her hair and a frilly col­lared shirt. In this return to child­hood she inflicts her most vio­lent form of trans­fer­ence onto him and he suf­fers a break­down, unable to cope with being a replace­ment for the man both him and Dianne have lost.

Old Boyfriends is, admit­ted­ly, a rather odd film. It feels torn between the gim­micky revenge nar­ra­tive tropes encour­aged by the Schrad­er broth­ers and Tewkesbury’s own desires to con­sid­er Dianne’s inte­ri­or­i­ty more close­ly and with greater care. As Joy Press notes in a Van­i­ty Fair piece on women direc­tors of the 1970s, the film’s hap­py end­ing was tacked on,” clash­ing abrupt­ly with the dam­ag­ing reper­cus­sions of Dianne’s involve­ment with Wayne.

The result is undoubt­ed­ly mud­dled, yet Tewkesbury’s sto­ry­telling and direc­to­r­i­al prowess still shine through, as does her desire to be open to chal­leng­ing, uncon­ven­tion­al female nar­ra­tives. More than 40 years on, the film stands as a tes­ta­ment to all those women film­mak­ers like Tewkes­bury who were denied the same oppor­tu­ni­ties as their male coun­ter­parts, and there­fore unable to realise their own artis­tic visions.

You might like