Some people watch movies for the plot. I watch them for the sconces and kitchen layouts. Diane Keaton has starred in some of the most beautifully designed interiors in film; not just nice sets, but homes that shaped the way people began thinking about design. In many ways, her movies helped move American residential interiors toward the warm, coastal, lived-in look we still reference today. These weren’t movie sets. They were feelings.
Father of the Bride is the classic example. That house was the dream: traditional, layered, warm, full of personal detail. Nothing flashy. The architecture did most of the work; symmetrical facade, paned windows, brick path to the front door. It was the kind of house you imagined growing up in. Interiors were soft and collected. Botanical art, wood floors, built-ins, family photographs. It looked like a real home, not a styled one, and that’s why people loved it. To this day, clients still reference that house. You remember the basketball court, the backyard tent, the gentle lighting in the dining room. It was comfortable design with heart.
Then came Something’s Gotta Give, which might be the most talked-about movie house in modern film history. That Hamptons beach house shaped entire design trends. White slipcovered sofas, stripes, open floor plan, blue-and-white palette, books everywhere, natural light for days. The kitchen became iconic; spacious, classic, functional, with pendant lighting and that oversized island everyone remembers. The whole space said “I can write and cook and think and entertain in this house.” And people felt that. Designers began getting the same request over and over: I want the Something’s Gotta Give house. It made coastal design smarter. Less seashells, more structure.
It’s Complicated followed with a different energy; still warm, but with deeper tones and a more European, collected feel. Arches, aged wood, layered fabrics, terracotta, worn stone. The kitchen struck a chord again; not perfect, but personal. The house had history and humor. It was one of the first times we saw a space that felt comfortable and adult at the same time. Nothing sterile. Nothing overdone. It changed the conversation about what “California style” could look like.
Other films followed the same thread. The Family Stone offered a messy, beautiful, lived-in family home that felt real. Marvin’s Room had a quiet simplicity; raw, emotional, with softer colors and natural light that carried more meaning. Book Club leaned into a more elevated, refined look but still kept warmth in the palette; white walls, curated objects, strong furnishings. Even the sets we see for Diane Keaton today; including her real-life home featured in “The House That Pinterest Built”; continue to prove the same point: her world is designed, but it isn’t contrived.
What ties these interiors together is personality. The spaces aren’t perfect. They’re lived. They have books, layers, evidence of life. They mix upscale with comfortable. They use materials you want to touch. They frame lighting carefully. They hold memories. They don’t stage a life, they suggest one.
As designers, we can learn a lot from these films. Narrative and layout go hand in hand. Rooms don’t have to be loud to be strong. The kitchen can tell the story just as well as dialogue. And the best homes are the ones that feel like someone truly lives there.
Diane Keaton may be known for her roles, but in the world of design, she quietly became one of the best references for how a home should feel. Warm. thoughtful. layered. and unapologetically personal.
I’ll take that over a perfect ending any day.