Much like the 30's jazz music that opens the movie, The Long Goodbye appears on the surface to take its cue from classic film noir. No surprise here, it is based after all on the Raymond Chandler novel by the same name, Chandler as iconic a figure in the noir realm as you're likely to get and responsible for some of the most distinctly classic moments of the genre (Double Indemnity, The Big Sleep, also Strangers on a Train for Hitchcock). But instead of rehashing styles and themes from a bygone era of film-making, Altman instead takes Chandler's film noir of wandering, and hangs on it his own unique take.
Elliot Gould is Phillip Marlowe. Scruffy, sardonic and alienated private dick with a smart mouth and a cigarette eternally glued to his lips. Altman's twist? He's cool but not the suave kind that would impress dames in the 40's, the Bogart kind. He seems constantly out of place, a bit phased, doomed to observe and comment in his witty repartee on what's going on around him or just let the chips fall where they may. And they do.
Chandler's story is one of his very best. All the staples of noir are present, simultaneously fulfilling the promise of a Phillip Marlowe film and in the same time preparing the ground for Altman's take on it; murder, missing money, unhappy marriages, a private eye hired to investigate. The works. Sprawling and convoluted like the best of noirs usually are. The dialogue crackling with inventiveness, shedding tough guy lingo for a sense of playfulness, rolling in and out of the picture in a stream-of-consciousness way.
Some of the twists and characters seem to carry a sense of seething malice, a fleeting glimpse on the seamy underbelly of the Great American Beast, the scars and ugliness of Hollywood showing behind a faded facade of glamour, an escalating creepiness factor that recalls the later works of David Lynch, predating him by a good number of years as it does. The mousey Dr. Verringe and the whole clinic subplot reminded me of Lost Highway for example.
What really elevates The Long Goodbye in another level is Altman's direction and he has Vilmos Zsigmond with him. This is only my second Altman picture (after McCabe and Mrs. Miller) but 2 hours in his presence were enough to leave an indelible sense that I'm watching the work of a master on top of his craft. Altman's camera is always on the move, slowly panning and floating in and out of the frame, picking up details, guiding the eye but never getting in the middle of the story or screaming for attention. The whole thing has a natural, subdued feel to it, what with the unobtrusive lighting and bleached-out, hazy look; no glitz or glamour here. Only the faded, long-gone impression of it. This is a world we are enmeshed in that surrounds from all sides with hazy reflection.
The Long Goodbye is both a fantastic and somewhat hidden gem of 70's crime cinema and also one of the missing links in the evolution of noir, all the way from Sunset Blvd. to Mullholland Drive. You must visit at some point.
Elliot Gould is Phillip Marlowe. Scruffy, sardonic and alienated private dick with a smart mouth and a cigarette eternally glued to his lips. Altman's twist? He's cool but not the suave kind that would impress dames in the 40's, the Bogart kind. He seems constantly out of place, a bit phased, doomed to observe and comment in his witty repartee on what's going on around him or just let the chips fall where they may. And they do.
Chandler's story is one of his very best. All the staples of noir are present, simultaneously fulfilling the promise of a Phillip Marlowe film and in the same time preparing the ground for Altman's take on it; murder, missing money, unhappy marriages, a private eye hired to investigate. The works. Sprawling and convoluted like the best of noirs usually are. The dialogue crackling with inventiveness, shedding tough guy lingo for a sense of playfulness, rolling in and out of the picture in a stream-of-consciousness way.
Some of the twists and characters seem to carry a sense of seething malice, a fleeting glimpse on the seamy underbelly of the Great American Beast, the scars and ugliness of Hollywood showing behind a faded facade of glamour, an escalating creepiness factor that recalls the later works of David Lynch, predating him by a good number of years as it does. The mousey Dr. Verringe and the whole clinic subplot reminded me of Lost Highway for example.
What really elevates The Long Goodbye in another level is Altman's direction and he has Vilmos Zsigmond with him. This is only my second Altman picture (after McCabe and Mrs. Miller) but 2 hours in his presence were enough to leave an indelible sense that I'm watching the work of a master on top of his craft. Altman's camera is always on the move, slowly panning and floating in and out of the frame, picking up details, guiding the eye but never getting in the middle of the story or screaming for attention. The whole thing has a natural, subdued feel to it, what with the unobtrusive lighting and bleached-out, hazy look; no glitz or glamour here. Only the faded, long-gone impression of it. This is a world we are enmeshed in that surrounds from all sides with hazy reflection.
The Long Goodbye is both a fantastic and somewhat hidden gem of 70's crime cinema and also one of the missing links in the evolution of noir, all the way from Sunset Blvd. to Mullholland Drive. You must visit at some point.