September 30, 1983 | In The Lonely Lady, a sleazy soap opera based on a Harold Robbins potboiler, Pia Zadora, the world’s oldest living nymphet, plays JeriLee Randall, a would-be writer who rises, falls, and rises again in Hollywood.
Late one evening, the 18-year-old JeriLee agrees to go home with the son of a famous screenwriter for a very private party. After she gets there, however, some churlish stud rapes her with a garden hose. “No! No! No!” cries JeriLee. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” says the stud.
The famous screenwriter, angry that such a thing could take place at his home, visits the traumatized JeriLee. One thing leads to another, a May-December romance blossoms, and the odd couple soon is married. Trouble is, the 50-ish screenwriter can’t cut the mustard in bed anymore – not until JeriLynn works wonders with his libido. He’s grateful, of course, but forgets all about his erotic rejuvenation when JeriLynn dares to rewrite one of his scripts. Before long, he’s snarling at her.
Bruised but unbowed, JeriLee takes off on her own to write movie scripts. Unfortunately, she finds most people want to get between her sheets, not between her pages. After she endures a bout of alcoholism, an abortion and a nervous breakdown, JeriLee decides to sleep with any man – or woman – who’ll help her get a script produced.
The movie is made, as is JeriLee, and the young scriptwriter is given an award for her work. (The prize is never, ever referred to as an Oscar, perhaps because of pressure from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.) On awards night, JeriLee walks up to the podium, lets loose a few bitter remarks about the many people she has dallied with, and refuses to accept the statuette.
The end. Thank God.
The Lonely Lady, which gives the impression of having been whittled down from a much longer movie, is a relentlessly stupid, consistently unconvincing piece of hack work. Worse still, it’s not even good, overproduced trash. It appears cheaply made, and is populated by obscure, third-string supporting players. (Lloyd Bochner, a fine actor who plays JeriLee’s husband, looks embarrassed each time he appears on screen. And well he might.) The music sounds tinny, as though it were issuing from a small record player just outside camera range. The cinematography is poorly lit, and the direction, by Peter Sasdy, is plodding.
Pia Zadora, notorious for Butterfly and her shameless self-promoting, often approaches mediocrity as JeriLee. True, she’s not up to the challenge of the mad scenes – her idea of going bonkers is to flash her lower teeth a lot and scream. And, to be brutally frank, her peekaboo nudity isn’t terribly sexy. Still, she does have her moments. She certainly looks believably distraught whenever she sees a garden hose.
