Farewell, My Lovely (1975) Reviews

• Encore

  rmax3048232003-01-06

  SPOILERS I don't think such effort would have been put into this film had it not followed so closely upon the heels of the superlative "Chinatown." It isn't as original or, generally speaking, as well done as "Chinatown" but it's the most admirable adaptation of Chandler that's come to the screen so far. The opening musical theme sets the tone for the rest of the film -- a melancholy trombone over some lush and wistful strings. (In "Chinatown" it was a lonely trumpet, and the incidental music was more original, even though by Goldsmith.) The photography here is by the same artist, Alonzo, and equals that in "Chinatown," although the tone is darker. The interiors are shadowy and menacing. There are only one or two brief, sunny outdoor-California scenes, and none of the beauty of Echo Park at mid-day. The period detail is outstanding, right down to the cheap tumblers with those three or four colored rings that Jesse Florian guzzles bourbon from. And the time is evoked equally well by references to Joe DiMaggio's hitting streak in 1941 which, like any optimism Philip Marlowe might show during the story, finally ends. (DiMaggio picked up his hitting streak again for another incredible number, but that doesn't belong here.) And, yes, the Grail mansion is resplendent but this is a movie about the seedy parts of Los Angeles, as Mitchum's idiosyncratic voiceovers keep informing us. "It was the kind of place I was always afraid I'd wind up in -- alone and broke." Some of the other felicities are as funny as they were intended to be: "My bank account was trying to crawl under a duck's belly." "She threw me a look I could feel in my hip pocket." The plot is hard to follow. All Chandler's plots are hard to follow. They're annoying. And he was sober while writing this one too. If you miss Mitchum's wrap-up explanation at the end, I guarantee you will never connect fai sui jade with Velma Galento. Hawks used to complain about his version of "The Big Sleep" that nobody could figure out who committed one of the murders, not even the director. The performances, however, are uniformly fine, especially Mitchum's He was at that point in his career when his face -- his whole demeanor -- was beginning to sag. True he's big, and he's been through a lot and he can take it, but he's beginning to tire and go soft. It's reflected both in his voice and his appearance. He has the appropriate ambivalent relationship with the police. The chief, Nulty, is a political animal but sympathetic in his own way. His assistant, played by Harry Dean Stanton, is a corrupt cop and is seen pocketing a silver cigarette case at a crime scene. (Their exact equivalents can be seen in "Chinatown.") There is some nudity in this film. Of course it wasn't in the novel. But it's not out of place. A few brief glimpses in a cathouse and they have an almost hallucinatory quality corresponding to Mitchum's mental state at the time. Sylvia Miles is superb prancing around with a buzz on, trying to resurrect her wrecked voice and equally wrecked body. The other performances deserve compliments too. Charlotte Rampling has been criticized but I'm not sure why. She oozes a kind of sensual deviance. Jack Halloran, alas, isn't really that good. Except for his devotion to Velma he's clumsy, selfish, and not at all sympathetic. There are some editorial touches here that make this something more than another cheap imitation noir. Moose picks up a heckler in "the colored joint" and throws him onto a table with hardly any show of effort. Cut to a joint shot of Mitchum glancing over at the black bartender as they exchange looks conveying the general idea that this behemoth is nobody to jerk around. For those who think Mitchum somnambulates through his films, watch the scene in which Madam Anthor slaps his face and he pauses, then lets out a horrifying feral shout, lunges out of his chair and belts her. It's a worthwhile film, maybe with somewhat more appeal for middle-aged or exhausted people. Mitchum's speech to Nulty towards the end is actually rather moving. "Thanks, Nulty, but that's not what I need right now. I need a lot of life insurance. I need another drink. I need a vacation, a house in the country. Everything I touch turns to s***. I've got a hat and a coat and a gun, and that's it." That kind of dialog stands out like a tarantula on a slice of angel-food cake. You know something? In the entire film we never once see the inside of Mitchum's house or apartment. The guy seems to be homeless. No wonder he's tired.

• My favorite adaption of Raymond Chandler

  hankeyham2001-07-16

  This is an extremely underrated film. It has a deliciousness, shot in whiskey tones. Mitchum's voice-over, with all the wry Chandler-esque tired wisdom, strikes a great balance of period, humor and self-awareness. Charlotte Rampling lives up to the sad, irresistible breathtaking beauty that you try to imagine reading some of Chandler's books. There was another Mitchum-Marlowe (The Big Sleep), and he was certainly born to play this role, but it missed the taste. Not so with this one. It's positively redolent. Great mystery story and lots of fun.

• They don't make films like that anymore.

  G_a_l_i_n_a2004-03-18

  L.A. of June 1941 as it was depicted in the Raymond Chandler's novel of the same title is filled with the dark secrets of the past that better stay uncovered. Philip Marlow, PE (Robert Mitcum) takes a job to find a vanished girlfriend of the felon Moose Malloy, and he has no idea what will follow. As Marlow searches for Velma Galento, he has to deal with a beautiful but cold and calculating seductress (Charlotte Rampling - young, sensual and dangerous), a jealous corrupt detective (Stanton), an old alcoholic girlfriend (Sylvia Miles in one of her two Oscar nominated performances, second - the shortest in the history of Oscars, for "Midnight Cowboy"), and a buffed thug (Sylvester Stallone -- it was fun to see him before he became a star of Rocky and Rambo). This adaptation of Raymond Chandler novel features action, suspense, humor, mystery and Robert Mitchum in one of his best performances as a man struggling with cynicism, hatred, and betrayal.

• different to the first

  Paddy-141999-01-31

  The choice of Mitchum for the lead role really did work. The novel suggest a tired Marlowe, who has had enough of being "detective to the stars". He wants to get out of his seedy little life, and change things, but instead, he gets wrapped up in another case. Mitchum's hang dog expression and tired wise guy act sums up the depression of the fallen hero. This is not the smooth talking Bogart, not the finely clipped and smooth Powell, but a harder, more experienced Marlowe, a man more aware of his own downfall. As he says to knulty, what he need is a nights sleep, what he needs is another drink. After watching this truly excellent recreation of late forties LA, I'm not sure that I couldn't agree with him. Ah yes, and Charlotte Rampling and the sometime Thelma really was "cuter than lace pants"

• A Truly Gorgeous, Vivid, Stylish Color Noir...Don't Prejudge it on 1940s Noir Terms!

  secondtake2009-07-17

  Farewell, My Lovely (1975) A Truly Gorgeous, Vivid, Stylish Color Noir...Don't Prejudge it on 1940s Noir Terms! This is a gorgeous surprise, a retreat forward, a 1940s drama not done in painful nostalgic pastel hues and soft edges, but in bold bright 1975 color and pitch dark shadow. You have to say the obvious and get it over with: yes, this is a modern "film noir." But it isn't a mere homage, nor a remake, nor a cheap imitation. Director Dick Richards, who has no other well known film to his credit, pulls a gem out of nowhere on this one. Just be sure to watch it for what it is, a dramatic period crime film, not for what you think it ought to be, a slavish remake of a classic noir. And he has the help of the perfect cinematographer for the subject, John A. Alonzo, who did both Chinatown (the year before) and eight years later, Scarface, both post-noir landmark crime films. Of course, this version of Farewell, My Lovely is, strictly speaking, a remake, which is to say, it's the third movie based on Raymond Chandler's 1940 novel of the same name. And inevitably we are going to compare to the other great version, Dmytryk's 1944 true, early film noir (called Murder, My Sweet). I say other great version, because both are really fine films, and different enough to avoid copycatting. Farewell, My Lovely is actually the more original of the two, an irony after 31 years of influences. And in some ways it's better, mainly because it has Robert Mitchum very much in top form. He makes those beautifully concise and witty one liners seem real and fitting, as if people really did once talk like that. I wish they still did. There are countless bit parts that pump up the stylishness of the movie, most memorably Sylvia Miles playing a hard-drinking has-been. And she and Mitchum have great chemistry, not as lovers, but as people from opposite sides of life who have a similar perspective on things, and they chat and resonate like old friends. (Compare this to the rougher, less involving scene in Murder, My Sweet.) Velma herself is none other than Charlotte Rampling, probably a hair miscast because Rampling has some kind of severity that the noirish femme fatales don't, as a stereotype, share. And this movie deals with stereotypes. Mitchum above all. It's fascinating to see a movie that is meant to be fitting into a form well known enough to be able to both refer to (in style and plot) and to deviate from (so we can feel it's original intent). And to have Mitchum, with his decades of great, strong, roles, anchor it all makes for a sweet, almost poignant experience. A similar feeling might be had in the remake of Cape Fear, but for my money, this is the more interesting movie, whatever the limitations of the plot, and the big thug. Go ahead, compare the Dmytryk version to this Richards one. If you haven't seen either one, watch the more recent one first to give it a full chance. You might go away surprised.