The Long Goodbye

Just an incredibly good film. Altman takes a classic noir novel, and transforms it into something somehow even better. The performances feel incredibly naturalistic and totally unrehearsed, at times to being quite jagged. But the cinematography is beautiful and exacting. Gould captures my idea of Marlowe's essential nature - cynical, knowing, determined, and guided by empathy and moral conviction. And at the same time he rides above depravity of the circles he mixes in with an attitude of detached humour. And Gould's wonderfully slovenly and goofy Marlowe just enriches the character. Standout supporting roles include Henry Gibson as the creepy Dr Verringer, and Mark Rydell as the vicious and pathetic Augustine. But I particularly liked Sterling Hayden as the alcoholic writer Roger Wade - equal parts terrifying and heartbreaking.

Philip Marlowe, the famous literary private detective, gets a modernization in this centerpiece of the ’70s noir revival. Despite a fresh coat of paint - snazzier cars and looser lingo and more liberal attitudes - at heart, his world hasn’t changed all that much in the thirty intervening years. Seedy criminals still exist, cutting corners and burying critics just to get a leg up, while smart, weary men like Marlowe stand in opposition. In The Long Goodbye, he finds himself tangled in a broad web of deception. Murder, extortion, intimidation and corruption are the currency of the Malibu underworld, spent on a wide swath of societal players, but Marlowe’s ethics aren’t for sale. Just like the old days. Apart from a job title and a credo, Elliott Gould’s rendition of the grizzled flatfoot is a far cry from the one depicted by Humphrey Bogart in The Big Sleep. Gould’s take is firmly rooted in the early ‘70s; a scuzzy single male who rots in a trashy, well-situated one bedroom apartment between cases. His office is the local pub, where the tender doubles as his personal secretary, and when he finds time to return calls, it’s done over the din of a bar piano. This muddy existence is contrasted by the luxury and glamor of his clientele, particularly his latest patrons: a refined housewife and her wealthy, drunken, cantankerous husband. Though it looks like he hasn’t had a shower in about three-hundred cigarettes, Marlowe slots easily into the high culture and discretely works his way around the rough edges of his latest cases. Naturally, they’re all connected, and while his extra sense seems to recognize that right away, the complicated details often leave him simmering in hot water. The Long Goodbye is the definition of a potboiler. While the hero pokes around, cracks side cases, shows us his world (the opening scene, where he fails to pull one over on a hungry house cat, is a top-notch introduction), we soak up the atmosphere and wait. Meanwhile, only slightly off-screen, the dominoes are lain and the weapons are loaded. Until the other shoe drops, we don’t know how deep we’ve been getting. Gould is entrancing as the wily, charismatic sleuth whose intuition is good, but not always good enough, and the twisty plot is a slam dunk for the genre. Maybe a little rushed at the end, though, especially considering the deliberate, effective pace that set it all up. Special recognition: the brief cameo from a young, mustachioed Arnold Schwarzenegger. He’s there just long enough to get his shirt off and bounce his **** a few times.

Not sure what was more surprising. That there seemed to be only one song in the entire world of this movie? That Arnold Schwarzenegger showed up as an unnamed henchman? Or that ending. I don’t believe I’ve seen a young Elliot Gould in a film before. I definitely get the appeal. He’s an interesting watch—love the wry sense of humor. He’s easy to root for, but I’d hate to see CT of his lungs.