Diane Keaton: 10 Essential Movies

Sold as an epic historical romantic drama, this portrait of early-20th-century Communist activist John Reed had the sweep of Gone With the Wind or Doctor Zhivago. But neither Vivien Leigh nor Julie Christie had a role as substantial as the one Diane Keaton was gifted by director Warren Beatty — that of feminist author Louise Bryant, who falls for Reed but never loses her fiery independence in the process. After a decade earning acclaim in the Godfather pictures and as a frequent muse for Woody Allen, Keaton found another gear here, displaying a cutting intellect that was far removed from the softer, sweeter characters of her earlier career. But Bryant’s defiance is nicely complemented by the character’s vulnerabilities, giving Keaton a chance to do a love story across a grand canvas that nonetheless feels intimate in the way her best performances always did. And who can forget Reds’ closing stretches, in which Bryant goes to that crowded train station in the hopes that her true love Reed might appear — her anticipation turning to panic turning to despair, and then at last to tearful gratitude. —Tim Grierson

For many, Keaton epitomized the independent woman of the 1970s. In Alan Parker’s bruising domestic drama, she’d put a face to the growing number of divorcees in the early 1980s. As one half of the couple that disintegrates before your eyes, Keaton’s Faith Dunlap is forced to deal with her unfaithful husband George (played by Albert Finney) and tries to find love amongst the ruins of her situation with a contractor (Peter Weller) building their tennis court. You would not call their parting amicable. Everyone remembers the sheer viciousness of the fights in this film — trust us, they are brutal — and the bitterness quotient is off the charts. But it’s Keaton’s quiet moments in the film that gut you when you rewatch it now, from the shellshocked look on her face as the Dunlaps drive home after a formal event, to Faith smoking a joint in the bath and softly singing the Beatles’ “If I Fell.” It’s somehow the most beautiful and devastating moment in a movie filled with sound and fury, and it’s all Keaton’s doing. —DF

It’s the holy trinity of 1980s heavy-hitting actresses (had Meryl Streep been involved, this would be like The Avengers for the era’s strong, name-above-the-title screen women). And you could not ask for a finer trio than Sissy Spacek, Jessica Lange and Diane Keaton to tackle Beth Henley’s Pulitzer-winning play about three Southern sisters dealing with the aftermath of a crime — specifically, one that doesn’t just involve the heart but the body of one of their husbands. Returning to their family home in Mississippi, the Magrath ladies each have their own way of dealing with the situation at hand; for Keaton’s wallflower-ish Lenny Magrath, that means fretting that the family will be torn apart by scandal and mourning a youth that’s passed her by. It’s very much an ensemble piece, and the joy of the film is watching these three stars play off each other. But that doesn’t mean that Keaton doesn’t have her stand-out moments, or can take a simple scene involving the eating of her chocolates and turn it into an aria of rage and built-up resentment. —DF

The Eighties had its share of comedies about women in the corporate workplace, from 9 to 5 to Working Girl. In the middle of those classics is Baby Boom, the first collaboration between Keaton and Nancy Meyers. She stars as J.C. Wiatt, a career-obsessed yuppie who inherits the baby of a cousin she has not seen since 1954. She eventually abandons New York — and her banker boyfriend, played by Harold Ramis — and moves to rural Vermont, where she goes full MAHA and invents natural baby food. It had only been a decade since Annie Hall, but Keaton had spent recent years starring in dramas; it’s almost like she was storing all this anxious, comedic energy, waiting to unleash it. Not a single second of this 110-minute film is wasted as she has one hysterical meltdown after another, like when her literal well has run dry and she vents to the repair man — so deeply that she falls backwards into the snow. Revisiting the film years later, she was surprised by her own performance. “I watched,” she said, “And I thought, ‘My God, I don’t know how I did that.’” —Angie Martoccio

Right after The Godfather Part III, Keaton played a very different wife — the calm, cool, and collected kind, who bails her stubborn husband (Steve Martin) out of jail after he refuses to buy a pack of twelve hot dog buns instead of his desired eight. In this remake of the 1950 comedy Father of the Bride, Nina Banks was the comedic foil to her uptight and neurotic spouse, who just can’t accept the fact that their daughter, Annie (Kimberly Williams), is getting married. Nina genuinely likes her charming, soon-to-be son-in-law (George Newbern) and the whimsically weird wedding planner Franck Eggelhoffer (Martin Short). But instead of just playing an agreeable housewife who shakes her head at her husband’s ridiculous antics — that wedding was $250 a head! — Keaton brought depth to Nina, making her grounded, logical, and pretty damn funny. She was given even more to work with in the 1995 sequel, when Nina gets pregnant alongside her daughter, and George sells the house without telling her. Keaton shines with every line in that film, too, like when Annie asks her if she took a photo of their favorite tree before they move. “Just a roll, honey,” she tearfully replies. —AM

As Annie MacDuggan-Paradis, an anxious housewife jilted by her husband for their therapist, Keaton offered empathy for those struggling to find agency at a marriage’s end. Her chemistry with her First Wives Club co-stars Bette Midler and Goldie Hawn — who reportedly first suggested Sally Field for the role of Annie — was undeniable and charmingly compelling. Together, they were impossible not to root for, and Annie’s comeuppance, when she finally stood up for herself and took over her husband’s ad agency, urged cheers. The film wouldn’t be complete without the trio performing their own take on Lesley Gore’s hit “You Don’t Own Me” — an anthem for anyone trying to find their feet. Keaton often reflected on how much fun it was to shoot this movie, and it’s a sentiment the viewer can feel. She was someone who truly enjoyed her work. —Emily Zemler

Keaton collaborated with Nancy Meyers four times over her career, but no film was quite as satisfying as Something’s Gotta Give. It was classic rom-com fare, but with a twist: Meyers rejected the idea that these sorts of movies had to star young actors, allowing Keaton and Jack Nicholson to the opportunity to prove that loves comes to all ages. She brought a sweetness to Erica, a successful playwright who hasn’t succumbed to the bitterness of divorce. It was easy to see why the youthful Julian (Keanu Reeves) was so infatuated with her — the audience was too. She won the Golden Globe, and earned several additional nominations, including for Best Actress at the Oscars. The film memorably featured Keaton undressing for a comedic scene with Nicholson and she later told Interview, “It wasn’t my idea of a good time, but it was such a wonderful movie. And of course, I did the thing that I thought I would never do. So what does that say about me?” —EZ