Chandler

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.

In the many films I have seen Warren Oates, I have come to a definite conclusion, here is one talented individual. I first saw Mr. Oates back in the 1960's television series called Stoney Burke. From then on, I followed his career closely and felt he was destined for great roles. That happened in 1974, when Sam Peckinpah gave him top billing in a film called 'Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia.' Of course, his biggest claim to fame was his magnificent role in 'The Wild Bunch'. I have always thought he was quite able to bring any character a certain magic, that is until I saw him in this flop. The movie is called " Chandler ", a tribute to the iron fisted detectives of the 1950's created by Raymond Chandler. Because, the synopsis said it was about a hard nose Private Eye, I was immediately interested. However, I sat patiently through the entire film and found it to be a dull, dis-interesting, slow pace, twisted, confusing saga which if it had a theme or plot must have been left on some dark back room self. Collectively and with some of Hollywood's best supporting stars, such as Alex Dreier, Mitch Ryan, Gordon Pinsent, Charles McGraw, Richard Loo and Scatman Crothers, this movie had enough power to reach Mach five, however, it fizzled on the launchpad and went no where. As a result, one of my favorite actor's got stuck in a poorly made vehicle which never got off the ground. **

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.

I saw this film when it was first released. The memory of how bad it was has stayed with me almost forty years. I didn't want to trust my own sentiments about the movie when I saw it, so I consulted a movie review published in a major metropolitan newspaper the next day- sentiment confirmed, the reviewer wrote that the movie was incoherent, indecipherable, and uninspiring. A little research reveals that the producer was star Leslie Caron's husband, thus the whiff of nepotism suggests the beginning for this awful film. The film's roster of many capable actors - Caron, Warren Oates, Scatman Crothers, Gloria Grahame, and James Sikking among others - suggests that it holds some promise. But the death of this film is attributable to its terrible screenplay. The "mystery" implicated is so obscure and so little revealed throughout the film that the viewer is left perplexed from scene to scene. The movie seems torn between being a detective mystery and an espionage thriller, but never settles upon one or the other. The sense of suspense is entirely absent. The main characters settle on playing dry, emotionless types in a fashion that inspires no empathy whatsoever. The cinematography is pedestrian. The result is that the hapless viewer loses interest in the characters, the plot, and, in the end, the film itself. I am little surprised that there is no version of this pathetic film available to purchase. I hope that if TCM finds a print of this film and feels compelled to air it that it is safely relegated to the 4:00 am slot.

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.