I'd be wary of discussing a film's supposed stupidity when your post is about as shoutily stupid and shallow as it's possible to get. Assuming you're not just deliberately misunderstanding everything in the film for effect -
* Erica isn't 'angry' that her doctor never asked her out for a drink while she was married. She's angry because his asking her out at all is insensitive and boorish, given that she's there for a health check-up and is feeling dreadful; making it worse is his dishonesty about his motives, and his shrugging bemusement at her coming right out and saying so. And while the doctor has been guilty of bad taste or indiscretion at most, the film as a whole dramatizes the kinds of advances well-behaved women are constantly expected to absorb without complaint. Erica's increasingly belligerent responses upset the men around her (and they aren't meant to seem especially level-headed to us either) because she refuses to play the socially accepted Put Up And Shut Up game.
* Penelope Russianoff's performance as the therapist is one of the most striking in the cast, and I think her naturalistic style of delivery, and the obviously part-improvised nature of the therapy scenes themselves, are meant to act as a foil to Erica's more abandoned moments and to replicate the nature of a session, in which the therapist is calm and controlled precisely so as to free up the patient and encourage her to talk. Beyond that, if you find the actor herself 'boring', and are sure you're not confusing her with her character, well.... it's all a matter of taste.
* And finally ... Where to Start, indeed with your moaning about the film's 'datedness' , by which I assume you mean the film doesn't allow you to believe it's taking place in 2013, or in some timeless vaccuum. Your accusatory interpretations of what the film is up to seem merely to be based on your own tight-collared (and boring) sense of morality: presumably the mere dramatising of sexual behavior of which you disapprove is enough for you to feel personally attacked; but to take you at your word, and assume that you are seeing an argument in the film, I'd have to say you're just as wrong as can be. The film isn't anti-marriage, or pro-sleaze (even if those simple opposites belong to no-one's grab bag of intruding obsessions but your own); it quite clearly and continually promotes open communication and honesty in all relationships, whether they culminate in a registered marriage or develop in some other way. This theme is stated and re-stated in just about every scene in the movie, including those therapy sessions you balked at, and would seem to be a universal concern, rather than one limited to a particular decade. Certainly the style of conversation and behavior in the film reflects the year (1977) and the place in which it was filmed and set, but 'datedness' as a concept means something a little different from merely 'old' (or 'not morally right' in your bizarre interpretation).
* You're also guilty of confusion in your argument - you say that the film is obsessed with sex, which you characterise as being 'so 1970s' and then whisk around to pre-empt any reply by saying the 1970s weren't like that at all, and demanding the reader of your post 'declare' whether they were alive at the time before presumably contradicting you. Well, which is it, so-70s or not-so-70s? And why so defensive? What seems clear from your self-contradiction is that you do think the 1970s were a sexed-up and sexually open decade (I'd agree), but that that is precisely what you didn't like about it then or now (for which I can only pity you) because your own life was apparently very different - defensive, sexless, and soberly uncommunicative, perhaps?
Basically in order to critique this film, and rather than say "I just didn't care for it", you've grossly misrepresented what it's about to the point of trying to get exactly the opposite meaning from it than was intended, and you've revealed some astonishingly unattractive (though not uncommon) facets of yourself. I can't imagine what a film about your life might be called, hey-stella-stella, but I'm pretty certain it could wipe every sleeping pill off the market for good.
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