Night Moves

Private investigator Harry Moseby (Hackman) has his hands full retrieving a teen runaway (Griffith) from the Florida Keys back to Los Angeles. A routine case shuffled off to him by a rival, the matter nevertheless evolves into a complicated multiple murder plot. Normally distant Harry has difficulty separating his personal feelings from the facts.

The first half of this film is such a dull and plodding downbeat soap opera that it challenges the patience of the viewer. The relationships of a group of emotionally broken people hinting at personal guilt over sordid pasts thrown together by less than ideal circumstances don't always tie in with the actual narrative. But they aren't really meant to.

The real mystery of the story rests within the human interactions and what is important vs what is trivial. Harry is in fact a very poor detective. He lets those few emotional connections he is able to make with people cloud his judgments whilst assuming guilt on the part of those he doesn't like. What makes him a hero nevertheless is that he doesn't quit even if it means discovering personal betrayal.

Telling moments are rife. The way different people react differently from each other is a continual source of confusion for Harry. His inability to connect with his own wife on an emotional level has made her feel alone even in their most intimate moments together. Yet he lets his guard down with the wrong kinds of complete strangers. It certainly isn't by choice that he has chosen misread both the situation and the people surrounding it..

This is a more sophisticated form of detective story in that it offers an examination of the mindset of the detective - one who happens to be emotionally vulnerable and even a tad fragile.

I've seen Night Moves twice, 20 years apart. Both times, I felt strangely obligated to love this movie, for two reasons: (1) Gene Hackman is one of my favorite actors; and (2) I enjoy detective stories, especially those featuring Philip Marlowe or Lew Archer (the primary inspirations for Hackman's character, rather than Sam Spade, who is misleadingly name-dropped here).

Unfortunately, both times I was frankly bored by this movie and struggled to get into it. What's the problem? Well, detective stories are a funny genre. They tend to have very little action or incident, and instead rely on character development and witty dialogue to sustain interest. For this approach to work, the dialogue must sparkle, and the cast of characters must be really compelling.

Night Moves gets this all about half right. Some of the dialogue is sharp, but the seduction scenes have rather laughable "deep" and "sexy" lines. The movie is also weighed down by a protracted marital infidelity subplot that goes nowhere interesting.

I'll say this, though - the violent finale is terrific and really sticks in the mind.

In short, it's hard to write detective fiction as well as Raymond Chandler or Ross Macdonald, and this kind of pale imitation / updating of their work mostly just annoys me. Hackman is great, and the story kind of holds together, yet somehow this movie fizzles rather than frizzles.

Night Moves is not a bad film. It's actually quite good. It is also off-beat and a just a little bit odd but not quirky.

It is not hard to figure out why a young girl has run away from home when we see her mother, a washed up, alcoholic living in the Hollywood Hills. What is odd is trying to figure out the relationship between her, her stepfather and his girlfriend in the Florida Keys where she has gone to live. It is hinted that the stepfather is not just a stepfather.

Even stranger is Jennifer Warren's odd, abrupt, salty behavior in the film and the the strange dialog written for her. At one point, Gene Hackman even tells her he is tired of her "ping-pong talk". Was that written for the benefit of the audience or did he improvise? I felt puzzled by much of her performance.

It is also painful, really painful to watch Gene Hackman's wife struggle with their relationship and her learning new things about her husband.

Yes, a strange, strange little film. The acting is almost too revealing. I can't quite wrap my brain around the whole thing. I think it will be appreciated by fans of films from the 70's.

This is the perfect role for Hackman as the aging sports star unable to find his role in life once the playing days are over. He is the accidental jock, too sensitive to play the stereotype and so finding no sense of belonging. He has become a detective but he is a bumbling amateur compared to a Philip Marlowe type. He is shy and hestitant and is frequently made to feel discomfort by the seedy, untrustworthy people he comes into contact with. He has none of Marlowe's self assurance. It begs the question why has he become a detective? Maybe it is partly due to his abandonment by his father who years later Hackman tracks down only to fail in confronting him. He is condemned to search for people to whom he is of no importance.

This idea of the lonely seeker is Hackman's own turf. His affable charm conveys a sense of a lifetime's wrongheaded idealism. In the wrong job, deluding himself, looking for a way out. Eventually, he is able to see clearly and see how his drifting has allowed the people around him to manipulate him in their games. Unlike many of this film's peers such as 'Chinatown', 'Taxi Driver', 'The Long Goodbye', we are not left to be slightly repulsed by the lead actor's ways. Hackman plays the everyman character as an affable, amateur sleuth whose hestitancy and chronic lack of commitment give him a fallibility more recognizable to an audience.

Coming back to NIGHT MOVES a quarter of a century later is a confronting experience. I was admirer of Alan Sharp's (HIRED HAND and LAST RUN) and now it's easier to see how he'd distorted the American crime movie with the influence of the European art cinema. Much the same thing is happening in Sam Mendes' current films.

The process is knowing and resonant and the film shows Arthur Penn at the top of his game, though it didn't find the same public his most famous work. This dark intrigue stuff works, partly because it's too dense to be immediately absorbed and because the characters are so vivid - even if it is hard to believe that all these great women want to take off their shirts for Gene Hackman in his tan rug. It is however one of Hackman's best outings - whether he liked it or not.

Lots of great detail - the contrast between Hackman's study with the black and white TV where sports will kill his eyes and Yullin's tasteful home, which makes us share Hackman's loathing of the character, feeding dolphins, the glass bottom boat or the theatre viewing (which respects the different format of the two cameras for once.) The performances are consistently vivid, reflecting well on Penn, with soon to be stars Griffith (particularly memorable) and Woods running level with largely forgotten character people. Janet Ward, for one, really registers.

Even if it needs theatrical viewing to be appreciated, Bruce Surtees' dim lighting, characteristically shading eyes, is atmospheric but the post "New Wave" fad of dispensing with establishing shots and opticals is now confusing and jerky. The score irritates too.

The line about paint drying has now passed into common usage but I like "blind, Albino, s**t-eating alligators" as much.

I used to use this one to teach screen writing decades back. I rate that a good call.