“A LONG DAY’S JOURNEY INTO  A LITTLE NIGHT SILENCE”

By Raymond Benson

Woody’s Allen’s first dramatic feature film, Interiors, released in 1978 on the heels of his hugely successful and Oscar-winning masterpiece, Annie Hall, was met with praise by some and head-scratching by others. Most critics, however, acknowledged that the picture was a step the artist needed to take in his evolution as a filmmaker.

Prior to Annie Hall, Allen’s films were zany comedies—the “early funny ones,” as facetiously described in a later work, Stardust Memories. Beginning with Annie, Allen made a quantum leap forward in originality, confidence, and stylistic maturity. He reinvented the romantic comedy. In many ways, Annie Hall is a movie with a European sensibility. It could be argued that Allen’s body of work post-Annie resembles the kind of material made by a director like, say, Francois Truffaut—small, well-written, intimate gems about people, relationships, and life that can be comedies, dramas, or “dramedies.”

Interiors is one of the dramas and it’s deadly serious. The influence of Ingmar Bergman is heavily prominent, but there’s also a palpable strain of playwright Eugene O’Neill running through it. The movie is about an upper class dysfunctional family that could be right out of an alternate version of O’Neill’s Long Day’s Journey Into Night.

Eve (Geraldine Page) and Arthur (E. G. Marshall) are a separated couple with three grown daughters—Renata (Diane Keaton), Joey (Mary Beth Hurt), and Flyn (Kristin Griffith). Renata is a successful poet, Joey is a lost soul searching for meaning to her life, and Flyn is an actress. Renata and Joey are in flawed relationships with Frederick and Mike (Richard Jordan and Sam Waterston, respectively). Eve has a history of depression and suicide attempts. Arthur just wants to get a divorce and move on with his life, especially with new-found fling Pearl (Maureen Stapleton). Angst, recriminations, self-destruction, and guilt abound.

It’s not a happy story, but it is a fascinating ensemble piece that demonstrates an uncommon mastery of cinematic language. Allen’s direction is superb, and Gordon Willis’ color photography is striking. The acting, though, is what places the picture above the bar. Page was nominated for a Best Actress Oscar (and won the BAFTA, although she was in the supporting category), and Maureen Stapleton was nominated for a Supporting Actress Oscar. Allen himself received nominations for Directing and for his Original Screenplay. A fifth Academy Award nomination went to production designers Mel Bourne and Daniel Robert for what are stark, creepily sterile interiors—hence, the title.

What is especially striking in Allen’s direction is the total lack of music—there is a little source music here and there, but no underscore. There is sound—dialogue, clocks ticking a la Bergman, the roar of the tide—but basically this is a movie that overwhelms a viewer with its silence.

Twilight Time’s limited edition Blu-ray (only 3000 units!) is a 1080p High Definition transfer with a 1.0 DTS-Master Audio. It looks quite good, on a par with the recent Allen releases by the label. Unfortunately, as with most Allen home video products, there is little in the way of supplements—here, it’s only the theatrical trailer that is included.

Interiors has its detractors, to be sure, but, as evidenced by the five Oscar nominations, the picture also has many supporters. Still—it’s probably not for everyone. Woody Allen fans will certainly want to give it a shot. For my money, in examining Allen’s handful of dramas he’s made over forty-seven years, it’s one of the better ones.

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