Director: Michael Winner
Year: 1978
Rating: 5.5
This isn't very good, but it isn't as bad as I remember it. I think the distance between seeing this and watching the Bogart Bacall 1946 version helps. It isn't like that older version is on the couch with me tut-tutting as the film goes along. But there is so much wrong with this film. In the 1975 Farewell, My Lovely produced by the same folks and also starring Robert Mitchum as Philip Marlowe, they got it generally right. The setting was in Los Angeles and the year was 1941. Here they decide that Chandler and Marlowe needed an upgrade. They bring Marlowe into the present and put him down in London. They recently put Sam Spade in France and now Marlowe in London. Los Angeles is where they belong. The birth of noir. Where dreams go to die. You go to London for afternoon tea at the Savoy. But the noir has been completely sucked out of this film. What is strange is that director Michael Winner sticks closer to the book than the 1946 film, but he completely misses the point. If he had changed the name of the film and of Marlowe, it might have been an acceptable murder mystery, but it is Marlowe. Now admittedly, Altman did the same thing with Marlowe in The Long Goodbye five years earlier - and that has both its fans and detractors but at least it was L.A. London is a step too far. As is the Mercedes.
In the opening scene while the credits roll, Marlowe is driving his Mercedes to meet General Sternwood (Jimmy Stewart) for an appointment. How in hell can Marlowe afford a Mercedes? He could rarely rub two Jacksons together. Now he is fairly well off with an apartment in a nice area of London. Dressed impeccably in a blue suit, charging 50 pounds a day. It is still Robert Mitchum thankfully and his rumpled presence has enough cred to make you stick with it. The plot follows the book to a large degree. Sternwood hires him to get a blackmailer off of him. It gets more complicated with pornography, a missing man, gambling and murders. The murders happen so quickly it will leave your head spinning. Who was that guy again? What is his connection to the others? Winner loses no time in advancing the story. It ends with the same words that the book does - "You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that, oil and water were the same as wind and air to you. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell."
Other than the change of location and time period, the other main issue for many is the casting. It is a terrific cast - Oliver Reed is suitably slimy, Richard Boone is suitably terrifying, John Mills, Edward Fox, Harry Andrews and Colin Blakely fill out their roles well enough - but it is the Sternwood daughters where it all goes bad. In the original of course we had Bacall as the older sister and Martha Vickers as the seductive little kitten who attempts to sit on Marlowe's lap while he is standing. Bogart and Bacall had such chemistry that after finishing the film, they returned to shoot more scenes of them together. There was no danger of that happening here. Sarah Miles as the older sister has none of the appeal that Bacall did. Her character is wretched from beginning to end. When Marlowe kisses her, I wanted to send up an SOS. And then there is Candy Clark. As the younger sister, she plays it like a five-year old child on an immense sugar high. Often topless and always irritating. By sticking to the book rather than the 1946 version, they miss out on a lot of scenes - the wonderful bookstore scene - this time Joan Collins sits in for Dorothy Malone but has none of her charm and they turn that character into the villainess. The flirtatious scenes between Marlowe and the sister are also gone. And no Elisha Cook Jr. as the sucker for a bad dame. There is no soul in the film - just a lot of moving pieces that you have to keep up with.
Year: 1978
Rating: 5.5
This isn't very good, but it isn't as bad as I remember it. I think the distance between seeing this and watching the Bogart Bacall 1946 version helps. It isn't like that older version is on the couch with me tut-tutting as the film goes along. But there is so much wrong with this film. In the 1975 Farewell, My Lovely produced by the same folks and also starring Robert Mitchum as Philip Marlowe, they got it generally right. The setting was in Los Angeles and the year was 1941. Here they decide that Chandler and Marlowe needed an upgrade. They bring Marlowe into the present and put him down in London. They recently put Sam Spade in France and now Marlowe in London. Los Angeles is where they belong. The birth of noir. Where dreams go to die. You go to London for afternoon tea at the Savoy. But the noir has been completely sucked out of this film. What is strange is that director Michael Winner sticks closer to the book than the 1946 film, but he completely misses the point. If he had changed the name of the film and of Marlowe, it might have been an acceptable murder mystery, but it is Marlowe. Now admittedly, Altman did the same thing with Marlowe in The Long Goodbye five years earlier - and that has both its fans and detractors but at least it was L.A. London is a step too far. As is the Mercedes.
In the opening scene while the credits roll, Marlowe is driving his Mercedes to meet General Sternwood (Jimmy Stewart) for an appointment. How in hell can Marlowe afford a Mercedes? He could rarely rub two Jacksons together. Now he is fairly well off with an apartment in a nice area of London. Dressed impeccably in a blue suit, charging 50 pounds a day. It is still Robert Mitchum thankfully and his rumpled presence has enough cred to make you stick with it. The plot follows the book to a large degree. Sternwood hires him to get a blackmailer off of him. It gets more complicated with pornography, a missing man, gambling and murders. The murders happen so quickly it will leave your head spinning. Who was that guy again? What is his connection to the others? Winner loses no time in advancing the story. It ends with the same words that the book does - "You were dead, you were sleeping the big sleep, you were not bothered by things like that, oil and water were the same as wind and air to you. You just slept the big sleep, not caring about the nastiness of how you died or where you fell."
Other than the change of location and time period, the other main issue for many is the casting. It is a terrific cast - Oliver Reed is suitably slimy, Richard Boone is suitably terrifying, John Mills, Edward Fox, Harry Andrews and Colin Blakely fill out their roles well enough - but it is the Sternwood daughters where it all goes bad. In the original of course we had Bacall as the older sister and Martha Vickers as the seductive little kitten who attempts to sit on Marlowe's lap while he is standing. Bogart and Bacall had such chemistry that after finishing the film, they returned to shoot more scenes of them together. There was no danger of that happening here. Sarah Miles as the older sister has none of the appeal that Bacall did. Her character is wretched from beginning to end. When Marlowe kisses her, I wanted to send up an SOS. And then there is Candy Clark. As the younger sister, she plays it like a five-year old child on an immense sugar high. Often topless and always irritating. By sticking to the book rather than the 1946 version, they miss out on a lot of scenes - the wonderful bookstore scene - this time Joan Collins sits in for Dorothy Malone but has none of her charm and they turn that character into the villainess. The flirtatious scenes between Marlowe and the sister are also gone. And no Elisha Cook Jr. as the sucker for a bad dame. There is no soul in the film - just a lot of moving pieces that you have to keep up with.
