September (1987)

After a nervous breakdown and a failed suicide attempt, a young woman (Mia Farrow) recuperates at her childhood home in Vermont. But when a group of family and friends converge at the end of the summer, it sends her spiraling into another depression. Written and directed by Woody Allen, this is one of his weakest films. Chekovian in structure, Allen's often trivial dialog is no match for Chekhov's often incisive insight into his troubled characters. What we get is a group of self absorbed upper class types throwing a pity party for themselves. Boo hoo! A more unpleasant group of people to spend time with would be hard to find. Allen is unable to make us care about these people and our lack of empathy is on him, not us. With the exception of Farrow, the actors stumble and even a good actress like Dianne Wiest as Farrow's best friend is defeated by the trite dialog. Allen's exploitation of the 1950s Lana Turner/Johnny Stompanato scandal is contemptible. Allen seems oblivious to this even as he has Farrow exclaim, "You're exploiting a very ugly situation in my life!". Allen has done worse but this one is pretty low on the totem pole. With Elaine Stritch, Sam Waterston, Jack Warden, Denholm Elliott and Rosemary Murphy.