In this new century of splintered viewing and distribution options, it’s harder than ever for modern films to be truly lost — but our regard for them can be, which is what director Bill Teck argues nearly happened to Peter Bogdanovich‘s dry-but-sparkling 1981 romantic comedy, “They All Laughed.” How it fell from public and critical view, only to be retrieved by a passionate new generation of champions, is the ostensible subject of Teck’s enjoyable if inelegantly assembled doc “One Day Since Yesterday: Peter Bogdanovich and the Lost American Film,” though it expands into a chatty examination of the filmmaker’s post-peak career, and the emotional aftermath of his ill-fated affair with “Laughed” star Dorothy Stratten. Given some strict cutting, this affectionate, affecting and somewhat overlong niche item would make pleasing arts TV programming.
At one point in Teck’s documentary, Quentin Tarantino makes the point that Bogdanovich was the first filmmaker to be granted his own place in Hollywood celebrity culture — more so than more latterly celebrated contemporaries like Scorsese, Spielberg, Coppola, et al. That status is still evident in the large roster of talking heads Teck has assembled for this entirely adulatory doc, who range from former collaborators like Jeff Bridges and ex-partner Cybill Shepherd to elder-statesman critics like Molly Haskell and the late Andrew Sarris. Their warm, often anecdotal reflections sit alongside less personal, more awed tributes from a younger wave of writers and bloggers: The substantial critical presence feels appropriate given Bogdanovich’s own roots in the form, though their effusions do begin to repeat each other after a while.
SEE ALSO: Venice Film Review: “She’s Funny That Way”
Teck glosses past Bogdanovich’s early efforts and the Oscar-nominated career zenith of “The Last Picture Show” and “Paper Moon”; it’s the period after that interests him most, as the director’s reputation was on the slide following a couple of critical and commercial misfires in the mid-1970s. The relative artistic success of 1979’s Paul Theroux adaptation “Saint Jack” is touched upon, but it’s “They All Laughed” that the film posits as a rebirth of sorts — not just on its own bittersweet comedic merits, but as a document of Bogdanovich’s ecstatic romance with Stratten, the ex-Playmate and budding actress famously murdered by a deranged ex before the film’s completion.
Bogdanovich’s personal devastation in the wake of the tragedy — during which time he somehow edited the film into the joyous, wistful delicacy it remains to this day — makes for the doc’s most revealing and rewarding content, lending “Laughed” the added emotional dimension of art triumphing over adversity. The director’s battle to self-distribute his work, with his defiant attitude toward studio rule resurfacing during the post-production of 1985’s “Mask,” is more inside-baseball material, but no less interesting. Footage from the set of Bogdanovich’s latest comeback feature, “She’s Funny That Way” (which premiered on the Lido two days before “One Day Since Yesterday”), closes the film out on a note of hopeful resilience.
Structurally, Teck’s film is a little slack, with the final 20 minutes feeling particularly redundant as almost every talking head offers a concluding valentine to Bogdanovich. Easy as it is to share their enthusiasm, not all the plaudits are equal in insight: Shepherd’s heartfelt recollections, for example, merit more attention than less personal “living treasure” superlatives. Techs are on a mostly televisual level, with the pic’s variable sound recording (by Teck himself, who also serves as his own d.p.) particularly short on polish. A handful of stilted faux-news reports used as a linking device wouldn’t be missed in a re-edit.
