New Film “Lovelace” Leaves a Lot to Be Desired

The name, the legend, the fantasy, the pariah, the political lightening rod: Linda Lovelace stood for a sexual revolution that she could not enjoy for herself. She made porn mainstream as the star of infamous movie Deep Throat, yet porn was something she was forced to do by her abusive husband. New biopic Lovelace is not a celebration of sex, porn, or the infamy of Deep Throat— it’s a look at the unhappy life she lived off-camera. 

Born Linda Boreman, the real-life star escaped her strict Florida home with her future husband, Chuck Traynor. He forced her into prostitution and short skin flicks. She was renamed Linda Lovelace and given a role in the wildly profitable Deep Throat. But behind the scenes, she continued to suffer Traynor’s tyranny. 

The first half of the movie establishes Boreman’s life prior to her relationship and continues through a major Playboy-sponsored screening. Then the picture rewinds itself and elaborates on the abuse Boreman survived during her tumultuous marriage and short porn career. It’s graphic, depicting beatings, threats, and a gang rape. Mercifully, the directors are tactful when it comes to cutting and framing their shots so as never push the boundaries too far, but the movie is emotionally manipulative in staging the title character’s brief triumphs next to devastating lows. Events happen out of order for dramatic effect, as biopics are tend to do, but the film becomes an uncomfortable cycle: for every good moment Boreman enjoys, the film then cuts to a scene of violence.

Not many movies could pull off the same plot twice (you didn’t actually watch The Hangover 2, right?), and unfortunately, “Lovelace” cannot justify visiting the same scenes twice only to add a layer of brutality. Why not play chronologically? For one, it’s tedious watching the same story twice in a 90-minute span. But for those who are affected by violence on-screen, it’s akin to sitting through the same triggers twice. Apparently the two halves are based on the two memoirs Boreman published once she left Traynor, but the questionable craftsmanship leaves the audiences to feel déjà vu of an uncomfortable kind.

Interestingly, directors Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman and writer Andy Bellin (hi dudes!) do not delve into the messy topic of her involvement with the feminist anti-pornography movement. Back in the early 80s, feminists like Gloria Steinem, Andrea Dworkin, and Catharine MacKinnon spoke out against the exploitation of women in the porn industry. Boreman was a textbook example, having been coerced to the industry by her abusive husband. She spoke at rallies, colleges, and talk shows, but would later regret her involvement. As she explained it in the book, The Other Hollywood, “Between Andrea Dworkin and Kitty MacKinnon, they’ve written so many books, and they mention my name and all that, but financially they’ve never helped me out. When I showed up with them for speaking engagements, I’d always get five hundred dollars or so. But I know they made a few bucks off me, just like everybody else.”

The debate around the career and life of Linda Lovelace is much more dynamic and important than what the movie ultimately depicts. The omission of her anti-porn action and a mere title card mentioning her domestic abuse activism leaves the audience with little more than a portrait of a victim.

Contrast that to 2005 documentary Inside Deep Throat, which features interviews with surviving stars and crew who knew Linda and spoke about their experience with her, including her about-face on their industry. This documentary painted a much-needed portrait of her complicated story, discussing her career’s impact on changing sexual norms and issues of consent, domestic abuse, the male gaze, and how the adult entertainment industry still marginalizes women and minorities.

Lovelace isn’t a catalyst; it’s just another unchallenging fantasy. 

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