OK so this isn’t as great as the book, but people let’s focus here: Annette Benning’s performance as Deirdre Burroughs is fantastic; all feminist anger, 70s therapy speak and foul mouthed psychosis. It’s Benning’s film. End of.
Secondly, Jill Clayburgh as the ravaged Agnes Finch caught in the destructive undertow of her husband’s activities, is moving, comedic and melancholy.
This means that all the other great roles in the film can shine and shimmer like really cheap glittery disco eyeshadow.
Made with a true obsessive’s eye for period detail – all that hideous 70s furniture, polyester clothing and the Finch household almost crawling alive with dirt and junk and chaos – along with a killer soundtrack, makes this amusing trip into the darkside of the 70s Me Generation and the way it screwed up their kids, an absolute must.
You gotta admire the boy Augusten, for getting through it all.