When I first discovered the joys of Woody Allen, Interiors came as something of a shock. Where was the man who could effortlessly blend solemn introspection with great belly-laughs? Where was my Woody?

I perhaps didn’t feel the revulsion and disdain that some did, but it was definitely one of the dullest things that I had ever witnessed. So imagine my surprise, when on a recent re-viewing I became entranced, enraptured even. How could I have been so wrong all those years ago?

It is in fact something of a masterpiece. Although, masterpiece may be too strong a word for it, as I do still have some reservations. Flawed masterpiece, perhaps. Nevertheless, the first half of the film still drags somewhat, with the dialogue often seeming awkward and self conscious, but perhaps this is deliberate as most of the characters are rather unhappy with their lot.

The film revolves around a wealthy artistic family. The father (E.G. Marshall), unhappy with his emotionally fragile wife (the sublime Geraldine Page), leaves the family home and takes up with the life-embracing, and as such polar opposite of his wife, Pearl (the brilliant Maureen Stapleton). The mother, with a history of emotional problems, is devastated by the separation and struggles to cope with her ageing. The eldest daughter, Renata (Diane Keaton), a successful writer, struggles to integrate her success into the context of her life, and her husband, Frederick (Richard Jordan), also a writer, but not a successful one, struggles to deal with his lack of success in light of his wife’s acclaim. The middle daughter, Joey (Mary Beth Hurt), is an artist with neither talent nor an art form. She is full of deep feeling and emotion, but has no way of channelling, her supportive husband, Mike (Sam Waterston), is surprisingly well-balanced and the youngest daughter, Flyn (Kristin Griffith), an aspiring actress, who does her best to hide her unhappiness, self-medicates with cocaine.

The film comes to life in its second half when the characters stop talking and Gordon Willis’s camera starts to talk. The mise-en-scène is bold and adventurous, and far more moving than any dialogue ever could be, with the largely static set-ups appearing to capture the souls of these troubled characters.

One mustn’t underestimate the importance of the Allen/Willis partnership. Interiors follows the masterful Annie Hall, and is followed by the delightful Manhattan, Allen’s magnum opus Stardust Memories, the amusing A Midsummer Night’s Sex Comedy, the minor masterpiece Zelig, the inspired Broadway Danny Rose, and the sublime The Purple Rose of Cairo. If only the partnership had continued.

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