John Huston's final film is an adaptation of a James Joyce short story. If that gets you giddy, you're probably the target audience of this film. If not, it might be good to check the trailer first before you subjects yourself to it. While it may be rather short, it's the kind of film that becomes quite the ordeal when you start to lose interest.
Three spinsters are throwing an Epiphany party. The year is 1906, the attendants are all upper class, with a background in the arts. There's some singing, some piano playing, people cite poetry and discuss the finer things in life. I don't think I've ever seen a party I'd rather not attend.
The performances are stiff, Huston's style is formal, the literary dialogues are pompous and the characters are absolutely horrendous. For kicks, someone should plan a double bill with Project X, just the shock effect alone would be worth the price of the admission. This simply wasn't my kind of cinema I'm afraid.