This remake of the Raymond Chandler novel is an object lesson in bad film-making. It should have been a contender - Robert Mitchum had been ideally cast as Philip Marlowe in 1975's Farewell, My Lovely and he is surrounded here by some high calibre talent. But British director Michael Winner so messes up the script, the direction and the mis-en-scene that the film is the very definition of poor. At times it looks as though someone has conned a load of old actors into performing in their home movie shoot. Perhaps this film is a joke on the cast, many of whom were old enough to be heading for "the big sleep" themselves and so were the butt of Winner's sick joke.
Mitchum walks through the film without shaming himself too much (although he shouldn't run or fight at this age); some of the other actors give the worst performances of their career: James Stewart is beyond self-parody as the dying General; Sarah Miles lolls her tongue whilst sporting an afro perm (!), Richard Boon grimaces and growls to entirely comic effect and Candy Clark does the kind of acting one expects to see in an early John Waters film - a kind of mickey-take of acting - which is funny when Waters' cast does it deliberately but embarrassing when Clark (a promising actress previously) does it for supposedly serious effect here. A couple of the English actors, such as Richard Todd and John Mills, acquit themselves with dignity, although Edward Fox is hilariously bad in his scenes, plummy accent chewing words to pulp. Any film where Joan Collins gives one of the most convincing performances has got to be going wrong somewhere...
Winner's script is a dog's dinner. He sets up the expectation that he's going to follow the convention whereby we only see and find out what Marlowe sees and finds out (a staple of detective films) and then adds random cutaways to events which Marlowe was not present at - e.g. the car going into the Thames - as well as plonking a lot of mismanaged flashbacks into the action every time anyone begins to talk about what has happened in the backstory. As usual with Winner, the film is cut with the finnesse of a village butcher, and setting the grimy noir in the posher areas of London and the English countryside does nothing to conjure the seamy world of the book.
All in all, a pretty dismal addition to the list of Chandler adaptations, but worth seeing for the unintentional laughs (there are plenty) and as a lesson in how not to make a film, or what parts not to choose when you're an ageing actor.
Mitchum walks through the film without shaming himself too much (although he shouldn't run or fight at this age); some of the other actors give the worst performances of their career: James Stewart is beyond self-parody as the dying General; Sarah Miles lolls her tongue whilst sporting an afro perm (!), Richard Boon grimaces and growls to entirely comic effect and Candy Clark does the kind of acting one expects to see in an early John Waters film - a kind of mickey-take of acting - which is funny when Waters' cast does it deliberately but embarrassing when Clark (a promising actress previously) does it for supposedly serious effect here. A couple of the English actors, such as Richard Todd and John Mills, acquit themselves with dignity, although Edward Fox is hilariously bad in his scenes, plummy accent chewing words to pulp. Any film where Joan Collins gives one of the most convincing performances has got to be going wrong somewhere...
Winner's script is a dog's dinner. He sets up the expectation that he's going to follow the convention whereby we only see and find out what Marlowe sees and finds out (a staple of detective films) and then adds random cutaways to events which Marlowe was not present at - e.g. the car going into the Thames - as well as plonking a lot of mismanaged flashbacks into the action every time anyone begins to talk about what has happened in the backstory. As usual with Winner, the film is cut with the finnesse of a village butcher, and setting the grimy noir in the posher areas of London and the English countryside does nothing to conjure the seamy world of the book.
All in all, a pretty dismal addition to the list of Chandler adaptations, but worth seeing for the unintentional laughs (there are plenty) and as a lesson in how not to make a film, or what parts not to choose when you're an ageing actor.