When Diary of a Mad Housewife was released in 1970, the satire of upper-middle-class culture aspiring to rise through the social ranks was a comment on the times, an exaggerated dark comedy of affluence and emptiness. In hindsight, it's a kind of time capsule of an era, a darker, more savagely satirical caricature of the culture that Neil Simon was turning onto popular comedy at the time, the same culture that Mad Men tackled.
Carrie Snodgress is the titular housewife, married to an upwardly mobile lawyer (played by Richard Benjamin as a smiling monster) who is so obsessed with appearances that he constantly berates her for her listlessness and failures to meet his expectations of the perfect home that he never notices her unhappiness or her exhaustion.
When she meets a popular young writer (Frank Langella) at a party, she jumps into a purely physical affair. He's as emotionally unavailable as her husband is emotionally vacant and just as judgmental, but he's utterly upfront about it, and at least he has passion. The husband and wife filmmaking team director Frank Perry and screenwriter Eleanor Perry were clearly drawn to the social commentary (their previous film, The Swimmer, tackled similar themes) and they tackle this project (adapted from the Sue Kaufman novel) head on. We see it all play out from her perspective as she mutely endures all the humiliations and abuse as if it is her lot in life.
Snodgress is superb, bringing just enough agency to the role of an emotional doormat that we remain on her side; audiences today would have no respect for a woman who refused to stand up for herself but Snodgress suggests a streak of masochism that drives her to endure the situation as part of the marriage bargain. She earned an Academy Award nomination for her performance.
Richard Benjamin, best known at the time as a comedy actor, plays against his likability as the demanding, insecure, immature husband whose passive-aggressive cruelty has imprinted on his eldest daughter, a little monster in her own right. He's such a cartoon of unthinking conformity, clumsily aping manners of the rich to gain their acceptance, that it's hard to take him seriously, but it works as an exaggerated caricature of the bankrupt culture of NewYork's urban elite of the 1960s and early 1970s. Especially if we see it as the world seen through her eyes.
While far less nuanced than Mad Men, it certainly makes for a striking snapshot of an era. Rated R for nudity, adultery, and adult sexuality. Features commentary by screenwriter Larry Karaszewski with film historians Howard S. Berger and Steve Mitchell. A strong option purchase.