In 1975, Bogdanovich opened a live-sung feature-length movie musical. It came out on Blu-ray this week, and Bogdanovich wrote a piece about it. It didn't go so well:
We were killed. At Long Last Love was deplored by the majority of critics: the Village Voice headline summed it up: "At Long Last Lousy". The glee implicit in this phrase was part of the climate of that time regarding Cybill Shepherd (one of the stars) and me---we were living together then---and the press was fed up with our much publicized romance. One TV critic said it was "written, produced, directed and ruined by Peter Bogdanovich." A small minority saw the good qualities: Roger Ebert enjoyed it quite a bit, the Newsweek critic was kind, and the picture did very well in its Radio City run, but that was it. Woody Allen told me (many years after) that he'd gone to see it three or four times at the Music Hall and later did a musical inspired by it. But the studio pulled the film out of release. Cybill and I came to refer to our movie as "the debacle." Kidding around, I always called it "At Long Last Turkey."
I'm to speak with him this weekend about ALLL. Should be fun.