I finally finished off Bogdanovich’s narrative features, and as expected his post-
They All Laughed work hits some sour notes, though not all are as bad as I had anticipated. Like many filmmakers, I think each of Bogdanovich’s films reflect his own movement through a series of stages of life, but his case is more unique than most because of the way trauma infected his soul and the turbulent effects had on his development. This emotional path is characterized by dynamic experiences of mood rather than content, and the vibe each film casts, from expansive and overwhelming love to muted apathy, insinuate his current processing of how he views his world. This shifting of perspective is completely revolved around his emotional state; whether as a young and vibrant filmmaker, a confident self-actualized man deeply in love with people and himself, a grieving man coping with trauma, or subsequent stages of gradual rebirth, as he accessed bits and pieces of his previous outlooks, sometimes hesitantly and almost always solemnly. His process is moving in an opposing direction to the norm (Wes Anderson’s own
artistic movement of growth comes to mind) that emerges towards confidence in the security of self. Bogdanovich already had this security (and however cocky one may deem his formative years, he undeniably reached a clear sense of self quite young, a pattern that elicits reactive jealousy from many of us who see others like this - and probably explains why so many people in Hollywood hated him on a deeper psychological level), and so a foreign insecurity emerged, focally driven by the loss he experienced in Dorothy Stratten.
Starting things off, I was finally able to get to
Daisy Miller, which was an absolute delight, and another addition to the small pile of wonderful period adaptations. I think the film only works because Bogdanovich made it during the period where he seemed to be channeling the playfulness of the nouvelle vague while implementing attentively assured technical methods simultaneously, to create a breezy flexible atmosphere despite aspects that could have made it heavy-handed. The entire cast is wonderful in their respective parts, but it’s Cybill Shepherd who is the perfect fit for the title role and the film relies on her acting talents, as well as image and personality outside of these abilities for its success. The script is quick-witted and Bogdanovich manipulates it to fit his own wild energy, while it may have translated as too serious in another director’s hands, or one who wasn’t so passionate about the filmmaking process during these specific years. Considering that this film is sandwiched between two of my all-time favorite films, I was surprised at how much I loved it, though it’s at no risk of placing close to his top five best.
One day I’ll write more about
At Long Last Love, but after rewatching it again for perhaps the fifth time in the last three months, and who knows how many times over the last few years (it’s become a running joke at this point at the amount of times my girlfriend enters the room and shouts, “you’re watching that
again?”) I’m feeling more confident than ever in declaring this my favorite musical, and only barely placing second to
They All Laughed in his oeuvre, yet still within my personal all-time top 10 list. This is arguably the most playfully generous, loose comedy paired with the tightest of direction, filtered through the eyes of a hopeful romantic aimed as much at the cinema as at life and love. (I see it as the closest companion piece to
They All Laughed, albeit utilizing more genre restrictions rather than taking a self-reflexive nose-dive).
Nickelodeon would probably follow in the third spot for many of the same reasons, with
Paper Moon and
The Last Picture Show expectedly filling the remaining spots as perfect films in their own more grounded, but no less impressive, respective approaches.
I can’t say I have as much love for
Targets as some, and
What’s Up, Doc? is a hell of a lot of fun going full-screwball, even if I prefer how Bogdanovich blended his natural skill for this particular kind of comedy with other ideas in subsequent films.
Back to first watches,
Saint Jack is proof that Bogdanovich can emulate his influences while also holding to his own stamps as he takes on Cassavetes. The joke here is that Cassavetes is known for his vibrant intensity in script, performance, camerawork, but Bogdanovich retains his own formal technique in camerawork, and applies his gentle kineticism to adapt ever so slightly to this style. It’s enough to demonstrate a change to qualify as an experiment but is unequivocally the same comfortable energy of the man’s hot period. I can’t say it’s as welcome as his lighter and more optimistic efforts, even though I admire his intentions and have a strong personal attachment to Cassavetes’ work and this realistic kind of human exploration. Still, if any filmmaker proved that one doesn’t need to produce ‘realistic’ art to hit notes of equal authenticity, it’s Bogdanovich during this decade.
And then I saw his first film to follow Stratten’s death,
Mask... and well, it’s not bad - at least not the director’s cut which has a surprisingly appropriate use of Springsteen - but as domino so adamantly professes, the unique magic Bogdanovich once possessed is gone. There are brief moments of optimism present in the interactions of biker family unit but each of the scenes feels dormant, likely due to Bogdanovich’s numbed disconnect from these, or any, feelings. It’s a logical progression to see the man follow his most optimistic film with the saddest story he could probably find about loss, though while the film isn’t poorly made by any measure it’s clear to me that Bogdanovich was distracted with his own grief and the project ultimately failed to provide him with the creative outlet he sought to channel his own depression. This would be an obvious consequence to anyone except the one suffering, but it’s both heartbreaking and honorable to see him try to use film again to express his inner self.
Illegally Yours is a return to screwball but it’s also very much an attempt to ‘move on’ from the life-changing incident. Bogdanovich is no longer idle, but still in denial and not fully present. Lowe even declares in his opening monologue that one just has to let go and move on in life, and while Bogdanovich is not credited as having a hand in the script, we know from Lowe that he did a lot of rewriting and one can’t help but feel like this was his intention with the film. I actually liked this one quite a bit, with Lowe carrying the strengths and flaws of the script and overall story with charm and energy that was very amusing. The visual gags, especially those in the courtroom scenes, often work and most of the successful comedic moments owe all to the one-two lunch of Bogdanovich’s skills in the director’s chair and Lowe’s lively perf. If only the whole film was this consistent it could have been great, but there’s still an emptiness there between Bogdanovich and the material that’s only blatant if one has seen his earlier work and views this film in that context. As it stands, this is one of Bogdanovich’s better films in his later period, and a very entertaining and spirited picture.
Texasville was the right kind of sequel to make, completely at odds with the original in style, tone, and even character, much like how people, places, and the world changes throughout life. The film takes risks to hold onto its own kind of authenticity and simultaneously reflects Bogdanovich’s disillusionment with the world around him, a fitting decision and the first directing choice post-Stratten that feels like it comes from a place of acceptance.
Noises Off is a return to lighter fare, leaning heavily on slapstick, but sadly without much success. There is some clever blocking and Tati-esque implementation of multiple gags in a frame that shows some effort on Bogdanovich’s part, and the film graduates to a place of zany absurdity around the middle of the film that is more appreciated than its first half, but then sinks back down into muddled comic failures. The whole package is a misfire, even if it’s a well-directed misfire, and less forgivable after the wonderful
Illegally Yours, though one could surmise that Bogdanovich’s denial had subsided by this point, revealing the 80s film as a fluke of faking unconstrained joy.
That is… until the very next year when he made
The Thing Called Love, which I actually really enjoyed! While it’s nowhere near the quality of his best work, there’s a warmth present that has been missing since
They All Laughed, even if it’s minute in comparison. This ode to music (significantly a return to country music) and the connective power of struggling artists feels natural and bright. If his 70s work through
They All Laughed is his Summer period, this feels like Autumn, containing some pockets of magic but lingering in a sobering state of melancholic reality that bars a full dive into the fantastical area Bogdanovich used to call home. It’s nice to see him finally able to access parts of this place, no matter how small.
The Cat’s Meow is a commendable attempt at a more lavish period exhibition, but that’s about all the credit I can give to this presentation of historical fiction that is not very compelling and left me apathetic and disinterested. A shame because a lot of effort was clearly put into several areas of this mess.
She’s Funny That Way was much better because Bogdanovich played to his strengths, but unfortunately the script leaves a lot to be desired in underdeveloped characters and wild setups that don’t deliver in comedy or connection to the material. Reminiscent of a weak Woody Allen film, there’s a lot of light fluff and some musing on the dreamy catharsis of happy endings in the movies that we don’t get in real life. I actually appreciated when the script ruminated in this space because in these moments Bogdanovich seemed to be authentically accepting his old worldview with wise eyes. It’s unfortunate that returning to one’s roots isn’t as easy as picking up where you left off after working through grief, but to me this film is a clear indication that Bogdanovich has grown as close to back to ‘normal’ emotionally as he ever will, and even in a weak film that’s a monumental achievement illustrated in the milieu of his chronological body of work.
For all the varying degrees of quality, this retrospective project still left me with a desire to see Bogdanovich make another narrative film, especially if it’s a comedy. It’s hyperbolic I know, but I don’t think anyone has been able to treat comedy with as much honesty and playfulness in America as Bogdanovich, who took all of his critical knowledge of filmic technique and genre form, and combined it with his own emotional surge of pure love for living, soaked it all up like a sponge and drained himself into every film he made for a good ten years. It’s one of the great tragedies of cinema that Dorothy Stratten died, first and foremost because by all accounts she was a kind and loving person, a human being who was taken from us too young; and also because in her death his identity was split, and the world likely lost decades of more art colored with optimism, something many of us not only seek but need to get through it all. And still I hope he keeps making movies, for even if Bogdanovich can’t bring himself to locate the level of passion to find and project this magic as he did half a lifetime ago, some talents don’t ever completely leave us, even if they fade.
