“Smooth Talk” steadily constructs a devastating portrait of the loss of innocence

Joyce Chopra’s 1985 film adaptation of a Joyce Carol Oates short story screens at the Chazen Museum of Art on November 17.

Adapted from Joyce Carol Oates’ 1966 short story “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?,” Joyce Chopra’s Smooth Talk (1985) dramatizes the sexual awakening and confusion of 15-year-old Connie Wyatt (Laura Dern, in her first starring role). The vain, restless, free-spirited teenager spends her summer days moping around the house, clashing with her condescending, overprotective mother (Mary Kay Place), and blithely enjoying the ephemeral pleasures of adolescence, while remaining essentially unaware of the hard, cruel adult world that awaits her.  

As Connie sunbathes on the beach, hangs out at the mall with her two best friends, daydreams about trashy romance, and tentatively flirts with boys, hints of predatory masculine activity seem to lurk around every corner. With its seamless blend of heartfelt sentimentalism and clear-eyed horror, Smooth Talk captures the tension between youthful exuberance and the stark realities of adult life. 

What begins as a deceptively conventional, poignant coming-of-age drama subtly morphs into something altogether more complex, ambiguous, and disturbing. When Connie’s parents and sister go to a barbecue and leave her alone in the house, a seductive, enigmatic visitor (played by Treat Williams) appears out of the blue. All of a sudden, the tone of the film shifts as Connie finds herself confined to an increasingly strange situation.

The handsome, older, smooth-talking stranger—dubiously named “Arnold Friend”—flatters her with compliments and arouses her curiosity. While she remains wary, Connie seems hypnotized by his confident manner. “Don’t you want to go for a ride?” he asks—eerily echoing a famous line spoken by the sadomasochistic psychopath Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper) in David Lynch’s Blue Velvet (1986). (In that movie, released less than one year later, Dern plays another young suburban woman on the verge of adulthood who is exposed to the dark underbelly of society.)

Refusing to leave Connie’s house, Arnold Friend insists that she accompany him for a joyride.  Somehow he knows her name and a lot about her personal life. “I’ve been watching you,” he tells her. Fear and suspicion creep over Connie’s face while his language becomes more and more manipulative. When Arnold’s playful manner turns vaguely threatening, Connie begins to realize the potential danger, retreating behind the front screen door and making a futile attempt to lock it.

As this prolonged encounter unfolds, the suspense builds to the point that it elicits a visceral sense of dread. The chilling dialogue, taken almost verbatim from Oates’ story, has a rather peculiar quality that imbues this scene with the texture of a nightmare. “I come along just when you need a friend,” Arnold says. “And I’ll come inside you where it’s all secret and I’ll whisper—” But Connie cuts him off: “Shut up. You’re crazy. People don’t talk like that.”

Dern, who was 18 years old at the time, perfectly embodies a typical teenage girl who falls prey to a sleazy, insidious lothario. Her nuanced, compelling performance provides early evidence of the actor’s tremendous talent. In a 1986 New York Times article about the adaptation, Oates writes, “Dern is so right as ‘my’ Connie that I may come to think I modeled the fictitious girl on her, in the way that writers frequently delude themselves about notions of causality.” Though the author considers her short story and its allegorical conclusion “unfilmable,” Oates calls Smooth Talk “an accomplished and sophisticated movie that attempts to do just that.”

Director Chopra, who worked as a documentarian in the prior decades focusing on the lives of young women, skillfully brings Oates’ original story to vivid life. She and her collaborators create a haunting, bittersweet evocation of the loss of innocence, as well as a hard-hitting, meticulously observed portrait of misogynistic culture. In the wake of the #MeToo movement, which provoked a global conversation about the prevalence of sexual harassment and sexual assault, Smooth Talk endures as a feminist coming-of-age horror film that now feels light-years ahead of its time.

As part of its monthly Sunday afternoon series of films based on literary sources at the Chazen Museum of Art, UW Cinematheque will screen Smooth Talk on November 17 at 2 p.m. The Chazen series is presented in conjunction with the exhibition Petah Coyne: How Much A Heart Can Hold, which can be viewed in the galleries through December 23.