Boring convoluted drivel. There are no excuses for this trite and excruciating examination into the lives of a mentally and emotionally imbalanced family, poorly served up as a "serious film".
Watching "Interiors" is like watching a painful therapy session of the disintegration of a dysfunctional family behind one-way glass. You as the viewer, have no say about the things that they do. At times, the film goes at such slow pace, it's like watching paint dry.
There really isn't much of a plot here. Critics and 'high intellects' may try and dress this up in praise and fancy words, but when you remove all the frills and fancy wrapping, there's not much left but an empty dusty room with a few dead flies.
The plot (or what there is of it), concerns a recently separated wealthy couple (E.G. Marshall and Geraldine Page), their three spoilt brat daughters who are now grown up (Mary Beth Hurt, Diane Keaton and Kristin Griffith), their spouses (Richard Jordan and Sam Waterson) and their father's new lover and wife-to-be (Maureen Stapleton).
That's the plot. Geraldine Page, in her most boring and one-dimensional role throughout her elegant film history, parades around on the screen in New York socialite fashions, murmuring constantly like a blithering idiot about designs and colors while clinging to a false and rather stupid hope that E.G. Marshall will return to her.
E.G. Marshall on the other hand has been driven away by her psychotic isolation and crumbling dementia, into the arms of a 'lower class' lady, portrayed by the always dependable and talented Maureen Stapleton. Why Stapleton has always shone in 'supporting roles' and never a main one is beyond me. She totally stole the movie here.
She appears in one scene wearing a striking red dress, clashing against the sterile, antiseptic and clinical tones that Page applied to the beach house where she once lived. As artistic Woody Allen may have intended this vision to be, it was the only scene in this entire trash that actually made me appreciate anything about this movie.
The daughters themselves are on an entirely different page altogether. Not one of them were worth feeling any bit sympathetic for. They were all self-indulged, spoilt, egotistical vile brats that made you wish very bad things upon them. Mary Beth Hurt's character was the worst. She was just a very disgusting and ugly being, revolting on the inside and not very attractive on the out. She spends most of her time pacing back and forth spouting wit and wisdom like she were quoting from the book of high intellect itself (seriously, as someone else pointed out, I have never heard ANYONE talk like she does in this movie).
Diane Keaton is surprisingly wasted in an unsympathetic role where she feels that Mary Beth Hurt is the favorite daughter and that she herself is just a foil to absorb all of her mother's misfortunes and bad luck. Whenever her mother suffers a nervous breakdown, Diane Keaton receives the brunt of it. Whenever her mother needs to complain about whether or not their father will be driven back into her arms, Diane Keaton receives the brunt of it. It never ends. Keaton herself, is supposed to be some sort of a struggling poet with a one-hit-wonder author for a spouse. Between the two of them, they sit around waxing fancy words and witty dialect, you're not sure whether you've just stumbled upon a re-enactment of the last days of Socrates.
The third daughter (Kristin Griffith) is the youngest. She is a struggling actress relegated to third-rate television shows. She is barely around, hence the reason why Keaton and Hurt receive most of their mother's anguish. When she does make an appearance, she doesn't offer anything to the film, other than to appear in a ridiculous scene where she is nearly raped by Richard Jordan's character during a drunken confrontation.
For about an hour and a half, Keaton, Hurt and Page spend most of the time talking out of their behinds concerning their feelings and anguish, about why they are the way they are and how screwed up their lives are. Hurt's character especially is the most grating, as an unemployed no-hoper who takes out all of her misfortunes on her poor deranged mother and anyone else who has the misfortune of being around to listen to her whine and whine and whine.
My hopes were brightened when Maureen Stapleton enters the picture. She is a kind lady caught in the middle of this psychotic mess, along with E.G. Marshall who is rather clueless to his children's unbalanced emotions and their despise towards both him and their mother. I actually never grasped why they were so angry. They didn't have a poor upbringing, their parents gave them everything they ever wanted (except maybe a hug?), and yet they're convinced that it's the end of the world and that their lives have been screwed up forever. Give me a break!
The worst part about all of this is the fact that despite all the anger, anguish, hopeless despair and sadness, Woody Allen manages to drag it out for nearly two hours (and it feels like it too, every second of every minute). But between every over-exaggerated emotion that is acted out, there is at least a 10 minute boring part in the middle that you have to sit through.
That is how the DVD should have been made. Each chapter could be skipped via 'scene of emotion' (ie. Chapter 1 - When Mary Beth Hurt screams. Chapter 2 - When Diane Keaton wails about why she's got it so bad. Chapter 3 - When Mary Beth Hurt whines about, etc.)
There is small satisfaction in the final scenes where Geraldine Page's character expires by taking a walk into the ocean, but other than that - I was so glad when the closing credits appeared. The movie just never seems to stop. There really is no pleasure in watching "Interiors", unless you get your kicks out of watching rich dysfunctional families cry about why the world is so unfair.
Please. It may be the year 2004, but I can guarantee you that times weren't THAT different in 1978. This movie is an exercise in patience. The acting is overdone and the direction is just cheesy. Woody overdoes the 'artsy fartsy' crap by trying to see how many times he can artfully shoot a scene with the heads of the three sisters in the one scene. It's laughable really, and that's the only slightly amusing thing about this boring drivel.
How this film got all those Oscar nominations and critical applause is beyond me. It's almost like the critics felt that if they didn't praise this movie, they would be thought of as either "un-hip" or they "just didn't get it". Sad really.
My Rating - 2 out of 10