The patrician bearing of Mitchum, the venerable Jimmy Stewart, the late Sir John Mills, and the intense magnetism of Oliver Reed provide the star quality to this breathless, over-paced adaptation of The Big Sleep. It is backed by (some of) Chandler's masterful writing, yet not enough. For balance, Joan Collins provides gormless mediocrity.
The British setting does add a peculiar air that sits oddly with the novel. Director Michael Winner does not let the pace -and audience- relax and breathe to develop tension and to enjoy the performances from the good actors - you may notice it feels like like a collection of first or second takes made quickly.
Winner wrote the screenplay. Perhaps they were on a tight budget and couldn't afford Elmore Leonard, Ed McBain or some such, but it shows in the great liberties and clumsy re-writing of parts of the novel. Marlowe's office is too modern, whereas his apartment is too fusty and British. In his apartment he has a television - he does not seem like the kind of character who would bother with television.
Good to see so much talent in this feature, though they're phoning in their performances at times, with the exception of the ever-enjoyable Reed, delivering his clipped lines like a baleful pressure cooker. Stewart is under-used, feeling like an extended cameo, Mitchum looks bored or impatient.
The film lacks the grit or weariness to make it more than it could have been. The character of Carmen (Camilla) Sternwood is silly and bratty rather than nubile and tantalising, even as the curiously neuter portrayal of her sister will inevitably be compared to Bacall's sizzle.
The key opening first chapter with a voice-over by Mitchum feels perfunctory - the initial -and vital- first scene fails to evoke the dusty, Gothic atmosphere of the Sternwood house as successfully as in the Bogart/Bacall version.
Something of a Curio for Chandler or Mitchum complete-ists then, perhaps?
The British setting does add a peculiar air that sits oddly with the novel. Director Michael Winner does not let the pace -and audience- relax and breathe to develop tension and to enjoy the performances from the good actors - you may notice it feels like like a collection of first or second takes made quickly.
Winner wrote the screenplay. Perhaps they were on a tight budget and couldn't afford Elmore Leonard, Ed McBain or some such, but it shows in the great liberties and clumsy re-writing of parts of the novel. Marlowe's office is too modern, whereas his apartment is too fusty and British. In his apartment he has a television - he does not seem like the kind of character who would bother with television.
Good to see so much talent in this feature, though they're phoning in their performances at times, with the exception of the ever-enjoyable Reed, delivering his clipped lines like a baleful pressure cooker. Stewart is under-used, feeling like an extended cameo, Mitchum looks bored or impatient.
The film lacks the grit or weariness to make it more than it could have been. The character of Carmen (Camilla) Sternwood is silly and bratty rather than nubile and tantalising, even as the curiously neuter portrayal of her sister will inevitably be compared to Bacall's sizzle.
The key opening first chapter with a voice-over by Mitchum feels perfunctory - the initial -and vital- first scene fails to evoke the dusty, Gothic atmosphere of the Sternwood house as successfully as in the Bogart/Bacall version.
Something of a Curio for Chandler or Mitchum complete-ists then, perhaps?