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They All Laughed

They All Laughed

Unless Mel Gibson secretly
plans on releasing a remake of Fiddler On The Roof within the next few
months, it would be hard to imagine a film arriving in theaters with more
unwanted, unintentional baggage than Peter Bogdanovich's ill-fated romantic
comedy They All Laughed did in 1981. Intended as a love letter to film, love, New
York City, and especially his then-partner Dorothy Stratten, Bogdanovich's
delicate trifle was spoiled by Stratten's murder at the hands of her jealous
husband. (Bob Fosse chronicled that fatal relationship with queasy intensity in Star 80.)
When no distributor would release They All Laughed, Bogdanovich sank a huge
chunk of his personal fortune into releasing it himself, the ultimate quixotic
romantic gesture for a film dizzy from start to finish with l'amour fou.

Shot by a skeleton crew on
the streets of New York, They All Laughed follows the lighter-than-air misadventures
of a trio of love-struck detectives. 
Ladies' man Ben Gazzara pursues unhappily married Audrey Hepburn,
pratfall-happy John Ritter falls (literally and figuratively) for Stratten, and
curly-haired stoner Blaine Novak throws himself at anything that moves.
Meanwhile, Colleen Camp steals scenes as a countrypolitan songbird who's a
dynamite broad in the best sense of the term, a tough-talking chatterbox with
more balls than any of her male co-stars.

Inspired by the opening of Rio Bravo, Bogdanovich
tells the story in largely visual terms, particularly in a first half extremely
light on dialogue. His swooning romantic comedy relies less on plot and
characterization than on the bittersweet tone and unexpected moments of grace. Laughed is
infatuated with infatuation. It's enamored of a particularly cinematic kind of
love, an attraction predicated on stolen glances and fleeting moments of
connection rather than earthier concerns like compatibility or mutual
interests. It's tempting to overrate the film, especially in light of its
director's heartbreakingly intimate connection to his material, but Bogdanovich
only intermittently achieves the heady mood of screwball melancholy to which he
aspires. For all its delightful performances, savvy location shooting, and
breezy charm, They All Laughed is ultimately something of a tantalizing tease,
all flirtation and no consummation.

Key features: A conversation between Bogdanovich and
director/admirer Wes Anderson supplements the expected commentary track.

 
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