O Perigoso Adeus

The first time I saw this movie was back in the seventies and this was the film that won me over to Robert Altman's great works in the American cinema.

Granted, at the time of the movie's release Raymond Chandler purists naturally didn't appreciate the transformation his knight errant private eye underwent. But nowadays, the viewer must see the film for its great direction, terrific performances, Leigh Brackett's excellent screenplay and the fine cinematography. Not to mention simply the challenge of understanding a truly baffling plot. As in all of Altman's works, this one is peppered with offbeat characters and subtle (and some not-so subtle) situations that positively take you by surprise. As a maverick figure in Hollywood, Altman made sure "iconoclast" was stamped all over this film, it's a true nose-thumbing at every institution that Hollywood reveres; idealistic movie heroes, neat happy-ever-after endings, big budget spectacles, dependable money-making conventions and all around ass-kissing.

But the real treat here is, of course, Elliott Gould, and I don't believe that it's the best thing he's ever done on screen, as many think. He's certainly turned out even better performances than this one throughout the past 3 decades. But yet, in The Long Goodbye, Gould is just so much fun to watch, especially when he's being interrogated by the police or just muttering lines like, "He's got a girl, I got a cat" or "a melon convention" when he gives up trying to get his topless next-door neighbors' attention.

An interesting thing to note at the end of the film - we see the back shot of Marlowe walking away and that to me, was the private eye's closing shot, but then we have a front shot of Elliott Gould who begins playing his harmonica and then continues on up the road doing his little number, dancing a jig, etc. And to me that shows where Marlowe left off and where Gould takes over. So they weren't one and the same after all. Once again, a statement to those who would be too quick to take the Marlowe myth seriously.

The Long Goodbye is vintage Altman, a masterwork to be savoured forever.

Phillip Marlowe is out getting food for his cat at 3am when friend Terry Lennox pops over and asks for a lift to Mexico. Marlowe obliges but returns to his home to find the police waiting for him with stories of Terry murdering his wife and Marlowe being an accessory. Three days later he is released from a holding cell whereupon he learns the news of his friend's suicide and all charges are dropped. Determined to get to the bottom of this open and shut case, Marlowe finds himself involved in the stormy marriage of Roger and Eileen Wade and the criminal activities of Marty Augustine.

Hailed as a classic, this film is actually a bit of hard work crossed with cool style in a plot that gets somewhere but seems to take a long time and a million back roads to get there. It won't be to everyone's tastes as a result because, even though I quite liked it, I must confess that the narrative is hard to follow and hard to particularly care much about. The wit of it is watching Marlowe updated – a device that will annoy as many as it pleases. In Gould's laidback and shabby detective we have the opposite of the tough and snappy detectives of the genre, but it sits well within the modern setting of the modern generation (as was) with its hedonism and fads. This is interesting but not the same as a good detective story, which sadly this isn't. If you're not won over by the overall approach then it is unlikely that you will find a lot more to fill the time.

Altman's direction is focused on the style and, although he is fairly respectful to the material in regards what happens, he doesn't go out of his way to make it engaging. Gould fits the role well and enjoys his character. I would have liked more of the complexity underneath to come through to contrast with this surface. He is the film but he is well supported by a hammy show from Sterling and solid turns from Rydell, Pallandt, Gibson and Bouton.

Overall then a difficult film to really like. It has enough of its own style to be interesting but not enough of a hook in the narrative to please a mass audience. Altman's hands are all over the film and I understand why some viewers don't like it for that reason. Not one for those looking for a gripping detective story, but still interesting.

Elliott Gould offers up one of his most amusing performances as Raymond Chandlers' private eye character Philip Marlowe. Marlowe is visited in the wee hours of the morning by his friend Terry Lennox (baseball player Jim Bouton). He does his friend a favour by driving him all the way to Tijuana. Some time after that, he learns that, in fact, Terry's wife Sylvia is dead, presumably killed by Terry, who has also offed himself. Then he is hired for a supposedly simple case: find Roger Wade (Sterling Hayden), a boozy writer, for his wife Eileen (Nina van Pallandt). In the time-honoured tradition of detective fiction, Marlowe will discover that the separate stories turn out to be connected.

Filmmaker Robert Altmans' take on the whole Neo-Noir genre does take some getting used to. It's a lot more irreverent, and goofy, than some people will expect. Devotees of Chandler and classic film noir will likely be dismayed. Scripted by the legendary Leigh Brackett, the dialogue does flow from the mouths of the cast with real ease, and it is reasonably entertaining to watch as this thing develops. After a while, however, even a viewer such as this one can see where the story is headed.

Goulds' version of Marlowe is a real change of pace. He's a quirky, hip, unflappable wise-ass who's willing to head to an all-night supermarket to obtain the only brand of cat food that his pet will eat. And he's just one memorable character in this interesting stew of a film. Hayden plays his washed-up writer for everything that it's worth. Film director Mark Rydell ("The Rose") is clearly relishing his meaty acting role as a brutal Jewish gangster. Henry Gibson ("The Blues Brothers") is an effective weasel as a doctor who expects to be PAID for his services. Danish actress Van Pallandt is alluring as the femme fatale of the piece. And there are a couple of very familiar faces in small roles: Jack Riley ('The Bob Newhart Show'), Rutanya Alda ("Mommie Dearest"), David Carradine as a chatty convict, and even Arnold Schwarzenegger as one of Rydells' goons.

Set in a sunny but rather seedy California of the 70s (complete with spacey hippie neighbours for Marlowe), this is an entertainingly convoluted tale, and a rather slowly paced one, but it always remains...interesting. It's definitely an unusual spin on the typical noir film.

Seven out of 10.

The very embodiment of '70s Hollywood genre revisionism, Robert Altman's film of The Long Goodbye stands as one of his most accessible, wittily misanthropic films, and probably the finest performance of Elliot Gould's career to date.

A warning for Raymond Chandler purists: you probably won't like this film. Altman and screenwriter Leigh Brackett had quite a task in adapting Chandler's second-last novel to the screen, for in it the 'knight errant' Phillip Marlowe comes over more like a prudish sap. Altman and Brackett have streamlined the narrative, removed peripheral characters, and – crucially – transformed Marlowe into a murkier, more comically ambiguous protagonist.

In Altman's and Gould's hands, Marlowe is laconically relaxed, murmuring, alternately amused and annoyed at the world. Like Chandler's hero, he is an outsider, a spectator, everywhere he goes. Unlike the literary Marlowe, Gould's character seems washed up on the shores of an unfamiliar land, his nobility as crumpled and stale as his suit.

Along for the ride are the archetypal Chandler villains and victims: self-hating celebrities, young wives trapped in loveless marriages, crooked doctors, low-rent psychopathic gangsters, bored cops, flunkies lost out of time. Typically, the milieux Marlowe moves in range from the affluence of the Malibu Colony to the cells of the County Jail. Altman, however, wishes to make a film in and about 1973; the film is shot through with the psychic reverberations of the end of hippiedom and the remoteness of the 'Me Generation'.

Another Altman touch is his openly expressed contempt for Hollywood and its conventions. As if to acknowledge the artificiality of a private detective story in the midst of 1970s Los Angeles, the film is suffused with jokey references to cinema. Bookended with 'Hooray for Hollywood', the film shows gatekeepers impersonating movie stars, characters changing their names for added class, hoods enacting movie clichés simply because that's where they learnt to behave. Even Marlowe himself refers to the artifice when talking to the cops: 'Is this where I'm supposed to say 'What's all this about?' and he says 'Shut up, I ask the questions' ?'

As for the supporting cast, Sterling Hayden shines out as the beleaguered novelist Roger Wade. There is more than a touch of Hemingway in Hayden's bluff, blustering, vulnerable old hack. Baseball champ and sportscaster Jim Bouton is casually mysterious as Marlowe's friend Terry Lennox, Laugh-In alumnus Henry Gibson is suitably greasy as Dr Verringer, actor/director Mark Rydell (best known for 'On Golden Pond') is convincingly chilling as gangster Marty Augustine, and Nina van Pallandt lends a dignified, defiant pathos to her role as Eileen Wade.

Special note must be made of Vilmos Zsigmond's tremendous photography, employing his early 'flashing' style of exposure to lend Los Angeles a suitably sultry, bleached-out aura. Also deserving attention is John Williams' ingeniously minimalist score. Comprised solely of pseudo-source music, the score is a myriad of variations on a single song, appearing here as supermarket muzak, there as a party singalong, elsewhere as a late night radio tune.

The film's controversial ending is utterly antithetical to Chandler's vision. The message from Altman, however, is loud and clear: Chandler's world no longer exists – if indeed it ever did.

I like the hard-to-solve mystery we get here. Actually, they don't even come close to giving us enough clues to solve it, hence the difficulty. But in that we feel we're up against it like the protagonist, detective Phil Marlowe, played by Elliot Gould.

Times have really changed for Marlowe since 1946, when he was played by Humphrey Bogart. Then he was cool, implacable, wore a fedora a lot, and wound up with babe Lauren Bacall. That was the only strain of the plot viewers could follow. There were some dead bodies, smoking guns, and tough questions from cops along the way.

In this movie it's 1973, and Marlowe still think he's cool but that opinion is not so widespread this time - he's being played for a sucker by at least half the cast, including a longtime friend, and his own cat. He unravels the mystery mostly out of a lack of having anything better to do, which he clearly stood in need of.

Director Robert Altman follows his own ideas about how to communicate visually. Like when he changes scene to a hospital, he doesn't do any kind of establishing long shot, he shows a closeup of a light over a patient's bed. His montages create a kind of equivalent of our human experience, where we use our minds to focus on detail. He usually winds up with scenes that feel like we're watching something actually happen. But he does know how to use visuals for dramatic power when he wants, as the ending makes clear.

Some of the performances he gets from actors are amazing, like Mark Rydell as psychotically dangerous gangster Marty Augustine. The way he works himself into a rage with his rants changes gears from funny to frightening at high speed, and I can't believe it didn't influence Joe Pesci's performance in "Goodfellas."

Not everything works here, like Gould smearing fingerprint ink on his face then breaking into Al Jolson at police headquarters, but on the whole a fairly engrossing take on detective mysteries.