The second attempt by a New York intellectual in less than 10 years to make a "Swedish" film - the first being Susan Sontag's "Brother Carl" (which was made in Sweden, with Swedish actors, no less!) The results? Oscar Wilde said it best, in reference to Dickens' "The Old Curiosity Shop": "One would have to have a heart of stone not to laugh out loud at the death of Little Nell." Pretty much the same thing here. "Interiors" is chock full of solemnly intoned howlers. ("I'm afraid of my anger." Looking into the middle distance: "I don't like who I'm becoming.") The directorial quotations (to use a polite term) from Bergman are close to parody. The incredibly self-involved family keep reminding us of how brilliant and talented they are, to the point of strangulation. ("I read a poem of yours the other day. It was in - I don't know - The New Yorker." "Oh. That was an old poem. I reworked it.") Far from not caring about these people, however, I found them quite hilarious. Much of the dialog is exactly like the funny stuff from Allen's earlier films - only he's directed his actors to play the lines straight. Having not cast himself in the movie, he has poor Mary Beth Hurt copy all of his thespian tics, intonations, and neurotic habits, turning her into an embarrassing surrogate (much like Kenneth Branagh in "Celebrity").<br /><br />The basic plot - dysfunctional family with quietly domineering mother - seems to be lifted more or less from Bergman's "Winter Light," the basic family melodrama tricked up with a lot of existential angst. It all comes through in the shopworn visual/aural tricks: the deafening scratching of a pencil on paper, the towering surf that dwarfs the people walking on the beach. etc, etc.<br /><br />Allen's later "serious" films are less embarrassing, but also far less entertaining. I'll take "Interiors." Woody's rarely made a funnier movie.