About a year ago - on a whim - I purchased the Blu-ray of Peter Bogdanovich's much maligned musical comedy, At Long Last Love, a musical inspired by and showcasing the music of Cole Porter. What instigated my leap of faith? A big factor was the disc's promotion as the "Director's Definitive Edition" (whatever that means), my genuine affection for Bogdanovich's work, and my fondness for nearly all the members of the cast.
With three major hits (The Last Picture Show, What's Up, Doc?, and Paper Moon) and a minor failure (Daisy Miller) to his credit, Peter Bogdanovich decided to attempt a musical in which he would film the actors singing live - the early talkie way of filming musical numbers - rather than overdubbing the songs to a lip-synching cast, which was standard practice from the mid 1930s. Bogdanovich believed that this technique would allow for greater spontaneity. After watching the film, I agree.
Casting Burt Reynolds and Cybill Shepherd, who had little vocal or no experience (Shepherd had recently cut an album of Cole Porter songs called Cybill Does It (to Cole Porter) that bombed), in the lead roles was a huge risk. Reynolds told the press at the time how much he loved doing a Cary Grant-type part rather than his usual good ole boy schtick. For Reynolds, who was just about the biggest movie star in the world at the time, this film would be the first of several sophisticated or pseudo-sophisticated comedic roles he would take on in the following years: Lucky Lady later in 1975; a re-teaming with Bogdanovich in 1976 for Nickelodeon, the valentine to film making's earliest days; 1977's Semi-Tough, his most Cary Grant-like role; the critically acclaimed Starting Over in 1979; Rough Cut in 1980; and Best Friends in 1982with fellow comedy master, Goldie Hawn. While his performance is probably the least inspired of the cast, At Long Last Love created an opportunity for Reynolds to at least try for other parts and expand his range as an actor.
John Hillerman and Eileen Brennan as the "hired help" nearly steal the show (I especially love Hillerman's trademark deadpan delivery). Second leads Madeline Kahn and Duilio Del Prete have the singing chops and are priceless in parts that, in lesser hands, would have made clear the thankless roles they are. The real revelation, though, is Cybill Shepherd's spoiled heiress. She sings, dances, and trades one liners with the aplomb of Claudette Colbert or Ginger Rogers. She is completely charming.
Duilio, Cybill, Burt, and Madeline try to get a leg up on the competition.
When the film opened in March 1975 at New York's Radio City Music Hall, it bombed. It wasn't any ordinary failure, however; it was a devastating one. Except for Roger Ebert and one or two other critics, the film was hated. Really hated. Hatred reflected by critical vitriol usually reserved for terrorists (the film holds a 4.8 on IMDB and a miserable 17% on Rotten Tomatoes). In its day the film's real cause célèbre - and the focus of most critical write-ups - was Bogdanovich and Shepherd's personal relationship (they were living together after starting the romantic relationship that broke up Bogdanovich's marriage during production of 1971's The Last Picture Show) rather than the film itself. More than a few reviewers compared the movie to the 1930s' Astaire/Rogers collaborations. In its setting and milieu, I can see where they would get that impression; however, this is where the critical community makes its first mistake: Stylistically, with its innuendo and changing partners, the film feels more like an Ernst Lubitsch film circa 1932, which could only doom the picture to failure. If the so-called knowledgeable critics didn't get it, how could moviegoers fed on the brutal violence and low humor of Rollerball, The Eiger Sanction, Airport '75, Earthquake, The Towering Inferno, Blazing Saddles,and the juggernaut that was Jaws possibly relate to Bogdanovich's tribute to a period long since forgotten when men dressed in tuxedos and women shimmering in glamorous gowns traded witty repartee?
Burt and Cybill, looking like they know the critical drubbing they are to receive.
The fact is that it's not surprising the film tanked. What is surprising is the movie got made at all. By 1975, the movie musical, especially the original movie musical, was dying. Musicals cost too much for the small audiences they attracted. Only three other musicals were made or released in 1975 (four if you could Robert Altman's Nashville, which I don't): stage musical adaptation, The Rocky Horror Picture Show; The Who's rock opera, Tommy; and Funny Lady, sequel to the enormously successful 1968 movie, Funny Girl, starring the queen of all things musical in the 70s, Barbra Streisand. Rocky Horror became a cult fave with its midnight shows and dressed up audiences; Tommy grossed over $30 million on a $5 million budget (the same budget as At Long Last Love) and garnered some Oscar love, including a Best Actress nomination for its star, Ann-Margaret. Funny Lady, a period piece like At Long Last Love, was the musical of the year, grossing more than $40 million and becoming the 8th highest grosser of the year. Meanwhile, At Long Last Love, released two weeks before Funny Lady, grossed just $2.5 million. Seems Bogdanovich and friends were way off key in their calculation of what American audiences wanted.
At the races. . . . Here's a taste of the the movie's period feel.
With 1975 now a distant memory, At Long Last Love looks and feels incredibly fresh. The film's long takes really pay off, giving an opportunity for the performances' joyfulness to shine through. The Cole Porter tunes, though some not as well known as others, are classic, witty, and suit the setting perfectly. Another asset is the physical production itself. From the photography to the magnificent costumes to the splendid recreation of New York City in the 1930s (via a Hollywood backlot, natch) are all first rate. That said, the film isn't perfect. For one thing, at 123 minutes (the video release is four minutes longer than its theatrical running time) it goes on about 20 minutes too long, and the songs at times outweigh the dialogue (the cast bursts into song just a bit too much). But these are minor quibbles compared to the wealth of enjoyment one gets from such a charming, infectious soufflé of a movie. Trying to resurrect the spirit of Lubitsch may have been foolish, but I for one am glad Bogdanovich did. The lesson here is don't listen to the critics. Buy or rent At Long Last Love and spend some time with Burt, Cybill, Madeline, and friends. Magic and joy in movies are in short supply these days. At Long Last Love gave me both.
