Sequestro pericoloso

Stephen Frears was the ideal choice to direct this quirky little gem. His first film before a prestigious career in television and then in Hollywood shows off his sensitivity, compassion and efficency as a film maker beautifully. Albert Finney gives an astounding performance as our hero, Eddie Ginley, whose life on the surface is far from glamorous. An unemployed Liverpudlian who gets by as a bingo caller and wannabe comic, he is loved by everyone except his repulsive brother William (Frank Finlay) and has recently had to suffer his girlfriend (Billie Whitelaw) leaving him and marrying the sinister William. Eddie however has a boyish love for film noir, the stories of Sam Spade and Philip Marlowe, and the music of Elvis. When he decides to advertise his services as a private detective, he finds himself up to his neck in murder, drug dealing and South African politics! Finney manages both a weathered Scouse accent and a remarkable impression of Bogart incredibly. He is a lovable character, excellently written and played, who could have sustained a whole series of films. Billie Whitelaw is the Lauren Bacall style femme fatale, and the outsanding Janice Rule the seductive villainess. A fine array of British character actors like Bill Dean, Fulton Mackay and George Innes sprinkle the whole film with colour and eccentricity. The in-jokes for fans of Bogart films are spot-on but anyone can enjoy this film, with some superb one liners and very touching moments. But the whole film is stolen fair and square by the soundtrack, courtesy of Andrew Lloyd Webber of all people! From fifties style rockers, to pensive strings to huge, grandiose thirties style epic themes, the score is a delight. The finest moment is suely Eddie's outwitting of the irreplaceable Fulton MacKay on a tube train. Writer Neville Smith (who plays a small role) showed a less humourous approach to a loner's hero worship of his idols in his 1979 tv play Long Distance Information, in which he played the lead character, Christian, an Elvis obsessed DJ who is working on the night of the King's death. Gumshoe is not really a comedy though, but a pastiche, affectionate and observant. It does have it's dark moments though, including a heroin suicide and a couple of moments of violence. And like any good Raymond Chandler, the plot is unbelievably complicated and the least important element!

"Gumshoe" is a nice film for Albert Finney to show his talent for wit and humor. The movie came fairly early in his film career – at age 35 he had 14 total film and TV movie roles behind him. This is a very snappy film, with lots of quick lines and retorts. In the theater, I would have missed some of this. But on DVD, I can use subtitles and/or stop and playback for parts that I missed.

Finney shows his talents for imitation and impersonation as well. His "Boggie-esque" quips are quite funny. Some reviewers dubbed this film an "oddity" or a "curiosity." I'm not sure what that means. If it's because comedy is mixed with crime – well we have plenty of that dating back to the 1930s. The series of "Thin Man" movies with William Power and Myrna Loy helped make the comedy-crime mix very popular.

Others have commented on the plot and cast. I will add only that this film is spot on for intrigue, and it has some very good twists. A casual viewer could miss a lot of what's going on. The roles are all quite good. Finney's Eddie Ginley is a very likable chap. Finney is one of those very talented people in the entertainment field who have played some great roles, but who have not struck gold spelled with an "O."

Produced early in Stephen Frears's nearly forty-year career, "Gumshoe" is an affectionate take on the Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler film adaptations that were popular in the 1940's. The movie is great fun, and Bogie aficionados will be especially pleased, if they can decipher the often-impenetrable British accents. Like "The Big Sleep" and other films of the private-eye genre, the plot is a series of seemingly unconnected events that, in this case, almost literally come together at the denouement. The smart banter between Bogart and Bacall echoes in the breathless quips that Albert Finney and Billie Whitelaw trade in some of the film's best moments. A Sydney Greenstreet wannabe is known simply as the fat man, and a dangerous beauty in the persona of Janice Rule is the requisite duplicitous fatale.

As handsome as he was in "Two for the Road" a few years earlier, Finney appears to be having fun as Eddie Ginley, an English Sam Spade. He has the appropriately rumpled demeanor and looks good in a trench coat. His deadpan film-noir-style narration enhances the 1940's feel, although, despite the gritty color, the film cries out for the velvety light and shadows of black-and-white photography. Short, entertaining, and well made on all counts, "Gumshoe" is a minor gem that merits more attention. The film predates "Prick Up Your Ears" and "My Beautiful Laundrette," the director's two breakout films from the mid-1980s, and, after the success of "The Queen" in 2006, viewers owe themselves the pleasure of discovering the talent on display in Stephen Frears's early efforts.

In the seedy world of pulp fiction, private detectives like Philip Marlowe and Sam Spade prowl, cynically solving crimes while clad in their trench coats, fedoras cocked at jaunty angles and cigarettes burning. Eddie Ginley- a noir-loving small-time comedian at a Liverpudlian bingo hall- wants a slice of the gumshoe action, and places an advertisement in the newspaper offering his services as P. I. Almost immediately, Eddie nabs a gig and, despite his greenness, makes some headway on the case. As he delves deeper into the sordid underground of heroin smuggling, will Eddie solve the mystery; or end up sleeping with the fishes?

Written by Neville Smith, Stephen Frears' directorial debut 'Gumshoe' is a brilliant homage to the genre of film noir and detective fiction in general. A witty and clever tribute to the classics of Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler, Smith's dialogue is quick and sharp, mimicking the snappy banter and witty one-liners of the hard-boiled heroes. The back and forth between his characters is a constant delight to listen to, even if the plot around them is a little underdeveloped and predictable at times.

What makes 'Gumshoe' really stand out from other noir parodies, like Neil Simon's 'The Cheap Detective' or 'Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid,' is Frears' naturalistic approach to the material. He strikes a fine balance between the screenplay's noir stylizations and the harsh realities of life in early 70's Liverpool. The film does not shy away from showing the poverty, unemployment and social unrest that plagued the city at the time. Eddie is not a glamorous or heroic figure; he is a struggling comedian who lives in a shabby flat, signs on the dole and has a complicated relationship with his brother's wife. He also faces racism, violence and corruption as he pursues the case. These elements add a layer of realism and depth to the film, making it more than just a spoof.

Chris Menges' cinematography is as intuitive and striking as Frears' direction, reminiscent in terms of composition and framing of the work of John Seitz or Sidney Hickox. He makes excellent use of light and shadow to reenforce the film's links to noir, while his utilization of handheld cameras helps foster a sense of realism and intimacy with the characters. Additionally, Michael Seymour's detailed production design and Harry Cordwell's set decoration adds further atmosphere to proceedings; ensuring that 'Gumshoe' is a real visual treat.

'Gumshoe' finds Albert Finney headlining as Eddie, delivering a performance of much charm and wit. A down-at-heel character who loves to speak like Bogart, Eddie is something of an eccentric P. I. to say the least, and Finney ensures he is always on the entertaining side of strange. Clearly enjoying the material, Finney's exuberant performance is one to be cherished, and he and his co-stars work wonderfully together. Billie Whitelaw does particularly fine work as Eddie's ex-lover and current sister-in-law, and Fulton Mackay has a scene-stealing turn as a rival P. I. hot on Eddie's tail. All in all, from the largest to the smallest role; all are played to perfection.

A sure-fire cinematic gem, 'Gumshoe' deserves more recognition. A smart and funny homage to film noir- that also offers a glimpse into the dark side of Liverpool in the 1970's- the film is immensely enjoyable. Featuring a charismatic performance from Albert Finney, witty dialogue and strong characterization, the film has a lot to offer. Frears' naturalistic approach serves the material brilliantly, and despite its narrative flaws; 'Gumshoe' readily entertains. If you are a fan of film noir or pulp fiction, you'll never want to say "farewell, my lovely" to 'Gumshoe'.

I recently saw this film again for the first time since it came out, on a big screen, and had an opportunity to chat a bit with Steve Frears about it. It stands up very well to the passage of time, but the whiff of sixties Britain coming from the screen is very strong. I think we had all forgotten quite how grotty things were back then. People were still putting coins in gas meters and thinking that chow mein was Chinese food. So GUMSHOE has now become period. Why, I never. But there it is, it has joined Powell and Loy in the cabinet of yesteryear. And so it is all the more appropriate that in this film, Albert Finney sits reading a propped up paperback copy of Dash Hammett's THE THIN MAN as he eats his breakfast cereal. Where is Asta the dog? Well, now, down to cases, and I mean criminal cases. Albert Finney is a Walter Mitty fantasist who refuses to work in his brother's prosperous export business and instead lives on the dole, having forfeited the love of a good (?) woman played by Billie Whitelaw, who married his brother instead (an insidious Frank Finlay who is up to no good). But wait. Whitelaw keeps coming around and professing undying love for Albert. What is going on? She wants to stay overnight but asks where could she sleep, as Albert sleeps in a narrow cot. He says she could always sleep in the bath tub. Perhaps she was one of those gals of whom a chap could say: 'She'd scrub up nicely.' Meanwhile, Albert, under the influence of Humphrey Bogart (of whom he does imitations), and frenzied with love for THE MALTESE FALCON, puts an ad in the Liverpool paper (yes, he is a Liverpudlian) saying his name is Sam Spade and he is a private eye but will not accept divorce work. He is immediately contacted by 'the Fat Man', given a thousand pounds (a lot of money in those days), a photo of a woman, and a gun. It is a curious sort of gun, a .38 calibre revolver with only five chambers. There may be some numerological significance in this lack of a sixth chamber, especially as later in the film Aleister Crowley's face stares at us from the wall of the Atlantis Bookshop in London as if he knows what happened to the missing chamber. And for those of you who know Museum Street, you will be aware that there not only was a real Atlantis Bookshop, but it is still there. I don't like it because I don't like black magic. Albert, being a very kind-hearted person, does not understand that he is meant to kill the girl in the photo, who is a scholar at the University of Liverpool (a sinister place, home of Ian Shaw, who only leaves his coffin after midnight). So he looks her up and chats her up. Albert Finney plays this weird, innocent and intrepid character to perfection. His ability to pull it off means that the film works. It would have been so easy for a film like this walking the tightrope of comedy and murder to fail. Albert could have gone plop as he fell off the wire. But no, he is too sure-footed for that. It is a miracle that a first-time director could succeed in such a hazardous enterprise. But then Frears was well apprenticed under Karel Reisz on MORGAN: A SUITABLE CASE FOR TREATMENT, which was an even more bizarre mixture of comedy and tragedy, starring David Warner (who once pushed my friend Lucy Saroyan down the stairs, for which I have never forgiven him). There is a really serious criminal enterprise going on, of which Albert becomes dimly aware, assisted by the fact that people keep getting killed, so as one would notice. His brother is shipping guns in crates marked 'gardening tools' to Mozambique. Now, who would do a thing like that? Mozambique is so yesterday. But then, this is a period film, and there were different rebels then. The ice maiden Janice Rule (who six years later would be the ominous non-speaking third woman in Altman's 3 WOMEN) sends a chill down Albert's spine as she tries to deal with him. But even the most evil schemers can get nowhere with a Liverpool Prince Myshkin. Albert decides to find out what is going on, as it becomes clear that heroin is the game. His encounter with a young and sensual Maureen Lipman at the Atlantis Bookshop is a treat, as she assures him that the best time to see her is just after closing time, as 'I blossom in the evenings.' But the best scene in the film is when Albert encounters the young Wendy Richard and they exchange machine-gun rapid one-liners, he doing his very best Bogart, and she maintaining the most perfect taunting insouciance. I praised this scene to Frears and he agreed that she was 'absolutely brilliant', and it became clear that he loved the result of it very dearly indeed. Frears is very self-effacing and finds it hard to be praised. He looked pretty dazed that everybody still liked GUMSHOE all these years and 22 feature films later. But it is a gem.