5 Film Interiors That Make Me Feel Something

I’ll admit it now so it’s out of the way: I’m an insufferable film snob. The kind who generally won’t watch anything rated below a 7 on IMDb, unless it’s an early 2000s comedy with a cult following, i.e. Zoolander, which I could happily watch on repeat.

So, if you’ve tuned into this expecting to be inundated with references to Matthew McConaughey rom-coms and Nancy Meyers films, I’m sorry to disappoint. I’ve never been partial to a 90s rom-com, and personally, I think the viral “Nancy Meyers aesthetic” reads as a suburban beige hellscape. That being said, I fully acknowledge that both films and interior design are super subjective, so please don’t come for me 🌝

Anyway, without further ado, here are five films that make me feel something… and when I say “feel something”, I mean the overwhelming urge to redecorate my house.

To kick things off, I want to start with a film that holds a very special place in my heart: The Royal Tenenbaums. When discussing production design, perhaps the obvious Wes Anderson film to rave about is The Grand Budapest Hotel. However, I first watched The Royal Tenenbaums as an impressionable teenager and, as a result, it just hits different.

I was immediately captivated by the nostalgic, eccentric interiors of the Tenenbaum home and the way it echoes the family’s quirks and dysfunctional relationship dynamics. One of the most striking things about the house is that it appears untouched by time. The siblings’ bedrooms are cluttered with artefacts from their childhood that simultaneously romanticise their upbringing while mirroring the fact that they’re trapped in the past.

Also, I’m heavily biased towards patterned wallpaper, wood panelling, and gallery walls, all of which this film has in spades.

Next up is a film that oozes nostalgia: Only Lovers Left Alive. Adam’s dilapidated Detroit mansion presents the ultimate example of a “lived-in” interior, exactly what you’d expect from a Sad Boy musician vampire who’s walked the earth for centuries. As your textbook Sad Boy, Adam despises the contemporary world and the way capitalism has rendered artistry an afterthought (his words, not mine). In response, his home is filled to the brim with vintage guitars, antique furniture, rare books, and scientific relics.

I absolutely love the eclecticism of his home and how layers of objects collected from every corner of the world make it seem both whimsical and deeply obsessive. Plus, his lighting plan is on point. Not a big light in sight…

Amélie is a film that I always come back to, and each time I swoon over the titular character’s lived-in apartment. Yes, I’m aware that I use the term “lived-in” often, but it really is my favourite kind of aesthetic. Amélie’s home visualises the inner life of a shy romantic: a warm, saturated space shaped by imagination, nostalgia, and private rituals. It effortlessly reflects someone who lives through imagination rather than direct participation in the world.

Although Amélie is clearly an introvert, her apartment is utterly extroverted, serving as an expression of all her bottled-up emotions and fantasies in a way that I find incredibly endearing. It’s a great example of why we should aim to make our home feel personal rather than aspirational, and I have to give a special mention to the vintage checkerboard tiles and red kitchen. Could this have influenced my decision to paint our kitchen red? Cannot confirm or deny.

Now, let’s take it back a few decades to 1960s Hong Kong. Although it’s not my favourite Wong Kar-wai film (Chungking Express is), you’d have to be blind not to appreciate the production design of In the Mood for Love. Every 👏 scene 👏 slaps 👏. The film’s highly saturated interiors are truly intoxicating. More importantly, they really scratch my itch for MCM decor.

In the Mood for Love immerses us in beautifully rich interiors: floral wallpaper, patterned cheongsams, heavy curtains, dark wood, bold colours, and pools of warm lighting overlap to create spaces that feel visually dense. This richness reflects the emotions of the characters themselves, most notably the suppressed desires of the two protagonists, our star-crossed lovers 💔. Every corridor, rented room, and narrow stairwell seems charged with intimacy and confinement, all at once. Sure, the film is heartbreaking, but the interior design really fills my cup.

Speaking of MCM, this last film deserves to be in the running for Final Boss of LA Modernism in Cinema. I’ve watched The Nice Guys a few times now, and each time I like it more. Ryan Gosling’s perpetually drunk character is honestly fucking hilarious, and the film’s ultra-70s production design has me feeling nostalgic for a time and place I’ve never actually experienced.

The interiors throughout The Nice Guys perfectly capture the film’s mixture of glamour, moral decay, and absurdity. We’re talking sunken living rooms, mirrored walls, shag carpets, and sprawling modernist mansions that feel undeniably seedy. These spaces lean heavily into the era’s excess and, although the goal was to make each set feel overstimulating and morally unsteady, they still beat any stark white minimalist interior in my book.

If we can’t learn anything from the film’s anti-heroes, perhaps we can at least take a few pointers from the spaces they inhabit: clashing yellow patterns can work, warm amber lighting is always the way to go, chrome accents pair perfectly with wood, and it’s about time that shag carpets make a comeback.

And that’s a wrap!