Contemporary critics weren’t ready for At Long Last Love (1975), I think, and entered the theater with erroneous assumptions, the same issue that tanked Hollywood Homicide (2003). They thought that writer-director Peter Bogdanovich was trying for an authentic 30s musical—and maybe so, but as Peter Sobczynski notes in his otherwise error-prone piece, it was doomed by how the studio system that kept a stable of comprehensively trained players no longer existed. Instead, it’s a modern recreation of the 30s musical that deliberately punctures holes in the atmospheric framing device—fun, witty, captivating.
Millionaire playboy Michael Oliver Pritchard III (Burt Reynolds) literally runs into Broadway singer Kitty O’Kelly (Madeline Kahn), who’s school friends with currently broke heiress Brooke Carter (Cybill Shepherd), who’s trying to seduce ostensibly loaded Venetian Johnny Spanish (Duilio Del Prete; the character’s full name is Giovanni Spagnoli, and the Anglicization is hilarious), and together they’re a love quadrangle. Simultaneously, Michael’s mannered valet Rodney James (John Hillerman) is pursued by Brooke’s blunt maid Elizabeth (Eileen Brennan). The real plot is the sixteen Cole Porter songs strung together in lieu of extended dialogue, which the actors sing live while dancing in super-long takes.
It’s true that none of the four leads can sing or dance well, but just as Skylar Astin tried to make his big number slightly less perfect in the season two finale of Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist (2020-2021) because it was real-life rather than imagined, the imperfections here let the real world back in: The leads comment on each other’s singing, and onlookers applaud the numbers. (One joke has a group of onlookers react nonchalantly.)
There’s nothing as exciting as a live amateur performance affirmed by authority (i.e., the director), as Richard Brody observes. As is extremely evident, the actors are all having a ball, especially Shepherd. At one point, she corpses when Reynolds almost upsets a decanter. At another, she seems surprised when he suddenly kisses her. Her performance choices channel silent- and precode-era physical acting. It’s great fun all around, particularly when the tune or dance timing are slightly off (choreographed by Albert Lantieri and Rita Abrams).
If you persist in seeking deeper meaning, Doug Dibbern considers how the leads’ nonchalant and in-world amateurism might reflect their upper-class ennui.
Editor’s note: The film has been released in multiple versions. The one reviewed is the Blu-ray, into which has been incorporated two deleted scenes restored and colorized by Nicholas Caluda from a 16mm print. It’s currently available on Youtube.
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