...e tutti risero

This film is supposed to be pure escapism, unfortunately it is merely irritating. Ben Gazzara wanders round as if we're meant to think he's the ultimate in cool, when in fact there's no conceivable reason I can see why every woman within a radius of 10 miles should be lusting after him.

In fact this is a problem with all the characters - John Ritter's geeky act is a pain in the butt after about the first 10 minutes, yet somehow the Stratten character fall for him. As does the annoying country & western singer.

And even Audrey looks as if she's going through the motions - painfully thin in looks as well.

And finally the script - it tries for that laconic sharp Woody Allen/Neil Simon style but falls miserable short of that quality.

Bring back Paper Moon!

Most of the major actors here do their best with not much to work with. The plot is nonsensical and way over the top. The dialogue seemed to be written by an amateur even though Peter Bogdanovich actually wrote it. This is supposed to be a romantic comedy. If so it's a comedy without any comedy and not much romance. The saving grace here is the nostalgic factor. Watching Audrey Hepburn and Ben Gazarra is a pleasure and in a different movie they may have further contributed to their impressive careers. In this mess, their scenes are impressive to watch precisely for their skill but what their characters do defies logic and you simply just don't buy it. John Ritter is very good and Dorothy Stratton holds her own because all she really has to do is look gorgeous. Collen Camp is, at best, mediocre and the weakest link in this cast. This film is only for film buffs who want to relive an era and marvel at the grace and charm of Ms. Hepburn. They may have all laughed but they weren't watching this movie when they did!!!

Screwball comedy about romantic mismatches in New York City. Peter Bogdanovich is obviously in love with all the women in his picture--he reveres them--yet Audrey Hepburn is (naturally) put a notch above the others because, after all, she's the princess Bogdanovich probably fell in love with at the movies 30 years prior. He shoots her in loving close-ups, gets right in the sheets between her and a wonderfully hard-boiled/soft-boiled Ben Gazzara, and allows her room to sparkle throughout. The love-connections made in the course of the film are fast and amusing, though I did tire of John Ritter's TV-styled klutziness. Colleen Camp, Dorothy Stratten, and the grounded, earthy-sensual Patti Hansen are all exciting to watch. But it's really Hepburn's valentine and she absolutely glows. *** from ****

I maybe in the minority-I liked this movie. True it is somewhat odd and true it's not that well known but... I came upon it when flipping channels and started watching-it has to grow on you-I found, however, that this is a very unique and fun little pic and if you don't mind all the walking which is mite to make you a bit dizzy(so much walking) why not curl up and watch something different? It is the type of movie that sort of grows on you as you watch and it is not terribly fast moving but it's fun and if you love New York you'll love the metropolitan feel to this movie and the kookiness. It must have been fun to make this Movie and I wish more people knew about it. Check it out if your in the mood for something quirky and different and want to glimpse the big apple in all it's metropolitan glory.

Who are these "They"- the actors? the filmmakers? Certainly couldn't be the audience- this is among the most air-puffed productions in existence. It's the kind of movie that looks like it was a lot of fun to shoot— TOO much fun, nobody is getting any actual work done, and that almost always makes for a movie that's no fun to watch.

Ritter dons glasses so as to hammer home his character's status as a sort of doppleganger of the bespectacled Bogdanovich; the scenes with the breezy Ms. Stratten are sweet, but have an embarrassing, look-guys-I'm-dating-the-prom-queen feel to them. Ben Gazzara sports his usual cat's-got-canary grin in a futile attempt to elevate the meager plot, which requires him to pursue Audrey Hepburn with all the interest of a narcoleptic at an insomnia clinic. In the meantime, the budding couple's respective children (nepotism alert: Bogdanovich's daughters) spew cute and pick up some fairly disturbing pointers on 'love' while observing their parents. (Ms. Hepburn, drawing on her dignity, manages to rise above the proceedings- but she has the monumental challenge of playing herself, ostensibly.) Everybody looks great, but so what? It's a movie and we can expect that much, if that's what you're looking for you'd be better off picking up a copy of Vogue.

Oh- and it has to be mentioned that Colleen Camp thoroughly annoys, even apart from her singing, which, while competent, is wholly unconvincing... the country and western numbers are woefully mismatched with the standards on the soundtrack. Surely this is NOT what Gershwin (who wrote the song from which the movie's title is derived) had in mind; his stage musicals of the 20's may have been slight, but at least they were long on charm. "They All Laughed" tries to coast on its good intentions, but nobody- least of all Peter Bogdanovich - has the good sense to put on the brakes.

Due in no small part to the tragic death of Dorothy Stratten, this movie has a special place in the heart of Mr. Bogdanovich- he even bought it back from its producers, then distributed it on his own and went bankrupt when it didn't prove popular. His rise and fall is among the more sympathetic and tragic of Hollywood stories, so there's no joy in criticizing the film... there _is_ real emotional investment in Ms. Stratten's scenes. But "Laughed" is a faint echo of "The Last Picture Show", "Paper Moon" or "What's Up, Doc"- following "Daisy Miller" and "At Long Last Love", it was a thundering confirmation of the phase from which P.B. has never emerged.

All in all, though, the movie is harmless, only a waste of rental. I want to watch people having a good time, I'll go to the park on a sunny day. For filmic expressions of joy and love, I'll stick to Ernest Lubitsch and Jaques Demy...