Lovelace

Overview

"When you see the movie Deep Throat, you are watching me being raped," Linda Boreman (aka Linda Lovelace) told a 1986 official inquiry into the sex industry. "It is a crime that movie is still showing. There was a gun to my head the entire time."

When Deep Throat — one of the first 'skin flicks' to feature a plot and characters — hit cinemas in 1972, porn crossed over into the mainstream. Linda Lovelace, a willowy contrast to the voluptuous blondes that had dominated American erotica, with an out-of-the-ordinary capacity for fellatio, became the face of 'porn chic' and a symbol of sexual liberation.

Eight years later, however, her third autobiography, Ordeal, revealed that her entry into the porn industry had been anything but a fling with freedom. Beaten, raped and threatened at gunpoint by her husband and manager Chuck Traynor, she was, she wrote, a prisoner "just as much as if I was in Alcatraz".  While the creators of Deep Throat — possibly the most profitable feature film ever made — divvied up their $600 million, she limped away with just $1250.

Lovelace, directed by the award-winning Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman, tells the Deep Throat tale in two halves. The first is more or less the real-time, 'public' version; the second depicts the harrowing inside story of Boreman's private life. It's a structural decision with the potential to devastate. However, too much is given away in the former chapter to allow the latter to deliver the shock intended. We hear alarm bells ringing within the first ten minutes of meeting Traynor (Peter Sarsgaard), and it's obvious from the outset that the naive Boreman (Amanda Seyfried) is putty in his hands.

That's not to say Lovelace doesn't have its disturbing moments. Sarsgaard, who did the parent-charming sleaze-bag so well in An Education, brings an unnerving edginess to the psychopathic Traynor, and Seyfried, a wide-eyed and prettier-than-real-life Lovelace, is believably vulnerable. Her severe Catholic mother, played by a hard-faced, domesticated Sharon Stone, so changed in the role that even Hollywood heavyweight Harvey Weinstein failed to recognise her, and her complacent father (Robert Patrick), succeed in provoking our frustration and anger.

However, a simplistic script lets this strong cast down. The characters are drawn as types, demonstrative of one or two traits, lacking meaningful development. We walk away, having once again been witness to the exploitative nature of the porn industry and the horrors of domestic violence, but none the wiser when it comes to either their implications or the life of Linda Boreman.