By the late 60’s, Peter Bogdanovich was already well on the way to becoming a first-rate film scholar. He had long been obsessed with movies, and he was publishing criticism and essays in major magazines. One of his biggest influences was the work of French critics and directors like Francois Truffaut and Jean-Luc Godard, the leading proponents of what came to be called the auteur theory. It wasn’t long before he was taking a stab at being an auteur himself; in 1968, he produced, wrote, directed, edited, and acted in a movie called Targets. Three years later, with his big-budget debut, he would emerge as one of the leading lights of Hollywood’s own New Wave, but the film remains the masterpiece he has never topped.
Based on post-Western specialist Larry McMurtry’s novel, The Last Picture Show is an elegiac look at the inextricably connected nature of relationships in small-town America. Set in the all-too-brief interval between WWII and the Korean War, the film chronicles the lives and loves of the residents of the tiny, windblown town of Anarene, Texas (a very close relative of McMurtry’s hometown of Archer City, which served as the filming location.) Bled nearly dry of her youth by the better prospects in nearly Wichita Falls and by army recruitment, Anarene is slowly becoming the sort of one-horse, church-and-gas-station burg people go through to get somewhere else. It’s a place where Hank Williams on the radio is as inescapable as the constant dusty wind. The teenagers too young to leave amuse themselves by taking in John Wayne movies at the town’s only theater, or grabbing a burger and Coke at the diner. Both establishments are owned by an old man nicknamed Sam the Lion (Ben Johnson), who acts as a wise mentor to the kids who frequent his businesses. Two such young people are Sonny Crawford (Timothy Bottoms) and Duane Jackson (Jeff Bridges), best friends for as long as either can remember. Duane is going steady with beautiful Jacy Farrow (a gloriously young Cybill Shepherd in her first film appearance), a fact that Sonny, who is less boisterous and cocky than his buddy, can only accept with envy. A favor for his football coach leads Sonny into an affair with the coach’s lonely wife Ruth (Cloris Leachman), while the callow Jacy’s realization of her potent effect on men puts her on the same path as her loose mother (Ellen Burstyn). For each emotional crisis suffered by the younger generation, the older one has a piece of sage advice ready at hand, but when Sam the Lion dies, it signals the end of an era for all of them.
If The Last Picture Show is a coming-of-age film, then the term applies as much to America as it does to the characters. With the tumultuous Sixties to give them perspective, Bogdanovich and McMurtry are eulogizing the lost innocence of more than just Sonny, Duane, and Jacy. Places like Anarene can keep it down for a while, but change will always come, sweeping aside old values and mores like grit off a boardwalk. Like poor, simple Billy at the end of the movie, the pastoral tranquility of small-town life itself is a victim of progress.
The Last Picture Show is, above all, a masterpiece of storytelling. Shot in wonderfully rich black and white by the great cinematographer Robert Surtees, the film purposely evokes the period it describes. Like so many classics, it has the authentic feel of autobiography; in this case, McMurtry’s fond familiarity with his beloved town and the sort of people who live there. Even relatively minor characters such as the knowing waitress Genevieve (Eileen Brennan) are fleshed out with concise scenes that speak volumes. As bleak and forlorn as Anarene is, it almost feels like home. Like Sonny and Duane in the theater when the last picture show is over, you won’t want to leave.
The Last Picture Show was nominated for eight Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Cinematography. It won for Best Supporting Actor (Ben Johnson) and Best Supporting Actress (Cloris Leachman). It is still considered to be Peter Bogdanovich’s finest work to date. In 1990, he directed Texasville, an adaptation of Larry McMurtry’s sequel.