Robert Montgomery was a pretty savvy guy. As I recall, President Eisenhower tapped him to be the first presidential adviser on TV appearances at a time when the tube was still a new- fangled technology. No doubt, his being a well known Republican also helped.
Too bad this experiment in the subjective camera fails as clearly as it does. I'm sure it took guts for Montgomery to pitch the idea to the notoriously conservative MGM. But he did get the opportunity. My feeling is that he took on too much for this, his first feature as a director.
First, he's not only directing but starring as well. That might be okay if he weren't also refashioning his image from lounge-lizard playboy to tough-talking private eye. After all, Dick Powell had managed a similar transition the year before in the highly effective Murder, My Sweet (1944). The trouble here is that we seldom see Marlowe (Montgomery), thanks to the subjective camera. Instead we hear him all the time in a pinched unnatural voice more annoying than compelling. Nor, for that matter, does the tough-guy tone match Marlowe's or narrator Montgomery's dapper appearance. Despite some clever cracks from scripter Fisher, the transition just doesn't work.
Just as troublesome is the complex Chandler novel that Fisher adapts without simplifying. The resulting narrative is almost impossible to unravel, which compounds a slow-moving camera whose subjective pov has to avoid the kind of quick-moving pans that might disorient or upset the viewer. Together, they produce a labored result, both visually and narratively. A simpler story-line would have demanded less from sometimes over-burdened viewers.
This is not to say the experiment doesn't occasionally produce interesting effects, especially the hazy, claustrophobic climb out of the wrecked car. Then there's the blonde receptionist's come-hither look while exiting the room that almost had me leaving my chair to follow. Note, however, how the the subjective eye of the camera alters traditional assumptions about movie acting . When Marlowe grills Adrienne Fromsett (Totter), the camera doesn't cut back and forth in routine conversational style. Rather the camera stays on Totter the entire time Marlowe eyeballs her. Thus, Totter has to perform uninterrupted for an extended period in which any false note or exaggeration gets magnified; at the same time, flaws cannot be finessed in the editing process. Rather, the whole scene has to be re-shot. Though the players do well enough, I suspect the novel technique was not popular.
If the movie fails, it's at least an honorable failure. Then again, the talented Montgomery bounced back in his next dual effort Ride the Pink Horse (1948), a gripping noir expertly acted and directed. Apparently, appropriate lessons were learned from this disappointing initial effort.
