Chandler

Raymond Chandler (Warren Oates) quits his security job. Corrupt government official Ross J. Carmady is looking to take control of gangleader John Melchior. Bernie Oakman offers old acquaintance Chandler as a patsy and hires him to protect government witness Katherine Creighton from Melchior without telling her. He befriends her and rescues her from kidnappers.

The name seems to be there to confuse fans of Raymond Chandler who created hard-boiled private eye Philip Marlowe. Chandler is world-wearied but sadly he's lifeless. The movie has nothing. The directions are stiff and without style. It's a sad tired effort. Everybody seems to be moving at half speed. Its production problems are the least of the deficiencies. Carmady's plans are not explained well. The shooting style is horribly stiff. Warren Oates looks uncomfortably small. The story is slower than molasses. Even the car chase is badly done. This is amateur hour.

This movie is seldom mentioned when people talk about neo noirs of the 70s, and it's not hard to understand why. Despite having a certain femme fatale icon from the 40-50s, nothing good that can be said about "Chandler".

The main problem i have with this movie is that it's just too bland. The dialog isn't even clichéd, it's worse, something out of a townhouse conversation with your wife on a saturday afternoon.

The actors bumble around, probably aware of the turkey they had the luck to sign up for, the action peaces are alright but nothing you haven't seen anywhere else, and the twist, well, there is none.

Also, it's hard to understand what exactly the movie was aiming at, it's not a parody, nor some sort of intellectual analysis of the noirs or a political statement of the 70s America, it's definitely not an action flick either.

Perhaps that's the movie's big problem. Most other noirs are either send-off, parodies or deconstructions of their predecessors, while this one is a "NOIR" just filmed in the 70s. It makes the viewer judge the movie on it's own merits, and lacking any, it sinks, just like the Packard in The Big Sleep.

2/10 for two things, Gloria Grahame and the fact that probably someone was watching this and thought, hey, I could do better, and did.

TCM did recently show this movie on a typically lazy summer afternoon before the 4th, and from the start, I was looking for some type of story line in which to sink my interest in, but things turned out murky. Its big draw was that it starred the much under-appreciated Warren Oates as some kind of detective who starts asking the big redeeming questions after he can't bring himself to carry out the job of tailing a mysterious woman for a corporate interest. When that plot line eventually became evident, I had the misfortune of falling asleep for just a few moments, and upon awakening, became even less involved as Oates wandered from scene to scene with the intent of discovering why the woman (the capable Leslie Caron) was on everyone's mind. My fault, sure, for nodding off, but unless the viewer is into speculation, this idea is never really revealed which leads to one guessing why her character is so central to the film's plot. Also disconcerting is how effortlessly the scenes wander between Carmel, Calif. and Los Angeles. The film's geography apparently has the two locales next door to one another, but they're not. The action moves too conveniently between them. And when Oakes and Caron end up with an inoperable vehicle yards from the Pacific Ocean under Big Sur's famed Bixby Creek Bridge after appearing to only have pulled off a main highway and onto a dirt road the night before, it appeared as if the producers wanted to get some grand photogenic shot near the end of this floundering mess. For whatever reason, too little too late. Nitpicking, yes, but I'm trying to find something worthy to write about what could have been a very good flick with just a little more pertinent exposition, and if I could, I would have had another joyous detective movie from the glorious '70s to chew on and enjoy.

There is nothing to recommend this turkey. I like Warren Oates but even he can't enliven the terrible dialogue, rotten script, stupid editing, and the horrid, horrid soundtrack. Plot? Oh, something about somebody wanting to kidnap Leslie Caron, or kill her, or something. But it's all a ruse to set up another guy who works for the organized crime syndicate that's run by the government. Something like that. Stay away. Especially if you like Warren Oates; you don't want to remember him this way. One thing that's of interest: listening for Gordon Pinsent's Newfoundland accent. But you don't want to remember Pinsent this way, either.

This private eye film is purely in the seventies mood, maybe more than KLUTE or THE LONG GOODBYE, produced the very same year. This one is really gloomy, slow paced, a pure product of this period. And Warren Oates contributes more than anything else in this atmosphere, because he was also the most iconic actor of this period, between late sixties and 1975, thanks mostly to Sam Peckinpah. He plays a terrific loser here, as he was in BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA. The intrigue is worthless in terms of understanding, as any gumshoe plots, only spirit, atmosphere counts. A definitely underrated movie, the only one from this director.