#11 MURDER, MY SWEET
"Philip Marlowe. A name for a duke.
And you're just a nice mug.
I've got a name for a duchess:
Mrs. Lewin Lockridge Grayle.
Just a couple of mugs.
We could have got along."
And you're just a nice mug.
I've got a name for a duchess:
Mrs. Lewin Lockridge Grayle.
Just a couple of mugs.
We could have got along."
Murder, My Sweet, was the first, and best of the Philip Marlowe films. It incorporates certain noir elements with familiar tropes of the detective/mystery films that preceeded film noir. It is literally a beginner's template for the genre.
A film with a private eye as protagonist starts out with several points against it; they will contain several elements of the ‘old fashioned’ private eye films: the detective is not going to be doomed to a fate he can’t escape; he is on the right side of the law and will invariably bring the bad guy to justice. He is usually too smart to be taken in by the femme fatale, and there will be an ending where at the very worst he is no better off than when he started. There may be some ambiguity about the detective’s character but in the end he’s a straight arrow. It would take Kiss Me Deadly (1954) to break into smithereens the mold of the old fashioned private eye we'd grown to know and love. The same is true for an officer of the law as protagonist, although it would later be done in, Where The Sidewalk Ends, and, The Big Heat, that too would end in 1954 with Pushover, and Private Hell 36 where Fred MacMurray and Steve Cochran change from good cop to dirty all for the love of Kim Novak and Ida Lupino respectively. Finally, a crime/mystery film will have a denouement with a detailed explanation of what transpired. The classic noirs end with a quick resolution and often with a violent ending. Those are some of the reasons why only two made my top25.
An added obstacle for, Murder, My Sweet, was Dick Powell. Powell had built a successful career as a star in light-heated romance/comedies. His last four films prior to, MMS were, Meet The People, It Happened Tomorrow, True to Life and Riding High. The jury was out on whether he could play Chandler's tough guy detective. There was also the bottomline question if the audience would accept him in a serious role, for as the saying goes; 'money talks.' As it turned out Chandler thought Powell the best of the Marlowes. He was able to draw his romantic comedy experience to insert humor into the character, project an air of suaveness and elan under pressure as well as a non-threatening appearance.
The film overcame those obstacles with great cinematography, a covert, underlying theme of moral turpitude and a femme fatale played with effective wickedness by Claire Trevor.
MMS starts with a blind-folded Philip Marlowe being given the third degree by some of Los Angeles' finest. The interrogation scene is fairly standard for private eye films and, often the participants have a working relationship with each other. As third degrees go, Marlowe's is rather benign as it usually is when the only concern for the police is that the private eye doesn't solve the crime before they do. This air of conviviality is expressed when one inquisitor tells Marlowe, "Look, Marlowe we're arraigning you. We don't like you, but it's nothing personal. We just follow a routine after a killing." The audience knew police interrogations weren’t these Hollywood koombayah love-fests. The collegiality would slowly be stripped away in, Where The Sidewalk Ends, Fallen Angel, and The Big Heat. Hollywood's blind eye toward police malfeasance would come crashing down in, Shield For Murder. ( (1954)
Murder, My Sweet, best illustrates the evolutionary transition from the 30s crime film to classical film noir; a genre that would hit its stride in the mid to late 40s.
A film with a private eye as protagonist starts out with several points against it; they will contain several elements of the ‘old fashioned’ private eye films: the detective is not going to be doomed to a fate he can’t escape; he is on the right side of the law and will invariably bring the bad guy to justice. He is usually too smart to be taken in by the femme fatale, and there will be an ending where at the very worst he is no better off than when he started. There may be some ambiguity about the detective’s character but in the end he’s a straight arrow. It would take Kiss Me Deadly (1954) to break into smithereens the mold of the old fashioned private eye we'd grown to know and love. The same is true for an officer of the law as protagonist, although it would later be done in, Where The Sidewalk Ends, and, The Big Heat, that too would end in 1954 with Pushover, and Private Hell 36 where Fred MacMurray and Steve Cochran change from good cop to dirty all for the love of Kim Novak and Ida Lupino respectively. Finally, a crime/mystery film will have a denouement with a detailed explanation of what transpired. The classic noirs end with a quick resolution and often with a violent ending. Those are some of the reasons why only two made my top25.
An added obstacle for, Murder, My Sweet, was Dick Powell. Powell had built a successful career as a star in light-heated romance/comedies. His last four films prior to, MMS were, Meet The People, It Happened Tomorrow, True to Life and Riding High. The jury was out on whether he could play Chandler's tough guy detective. There was also the bottomline question if the audience would accept him in a serious role, for as the saying goes; 'money talks.' As it turned out Chandler thought Powell the best of the Marlowes. He was able to draw his romantic comedy experience to insert humor into the character, project an air of suaveness and elan under pressure as well as a non-threatening appearance.
The film overcame those obstacles with great cinematography, a covert, underlying theme of moral turpitude and a femme fatale played with effective wickedness by Claire Trevor.
MMS starts with a blind-folded Philip Marlowe being given the third degree by some of Los Angeles' finest. The interrogation scene is fairly standard for private eye films and, often the participants have a working relationship with each other. As third degrees go, Marlowe's is rather benign as it usually is when the only concern for the police is that the private eye doesn't solve the crime before they do. This air of conviviality is expressed when one inquisitor tells Marlowe, "Look, Marlowe we're arraigning you. We don't like you, but it's nothing personal. We just follow a routine after a killing." The audience knew police interrogations weren’t these Hollywood koombayah love-fests. The collegiality would slowly be stripped away in, Where The Sidewalk Ends, Fallen Angel, and The Big Heat. Hollywood's blind eye toward police malfeasance would come crashing down in, Shield For Murder. ( (1954)
Murder, My Sweet, best illustrates the evolutionary transition from the 30s crime film to classical film noir; a genre that would hit its stride in the mid to late 40s.
Harry J. Wild's exquisitely detailed chiaroscuro cinematography screams film noir. It begins in the interrogation room moves to the streets, up to Marlowe’s office and it's there where Wild gives us the definitive image of the genre: Marlowe looking up at the menacing visage of Moose Malloy's (Mike Mazurki) reflection in the window that appears and disappears in rhythm to the blinking of a broken neon sign. From there the camera takes us to Florian’s bar and finally to Jessie Florian’s dingy apartment. The cinematography is one reason why, Murder, My Sweet, is the definitive private eye film noir.
Murder, My Sweet is a loose adaptation of, Farewell, My Lovely. Marlowe is hired by Moose to find the love of his life; Velma Valento. Chandler's book addressed racial and societal class distinction, drugs, corrupt local governments, bad cops, consortium with gangsters and prostitution. Pulp fiction, with its low brow readership, allowed the authors to write stories that the Hays Code would never allow on film. Screenwriters and directors found ways to circumvent those restrictions, and when it came to drugs, one way was to have a jazz band, i.e. Phantom Lady. Murder, My Sweet, uses Dr. Sonderborg and his sanitarium to broach drug use among the upper class.
Dr. Sonderborg’s sanitarium is more than a place for dispensing drugs and giving his elite clientele, a place to kick their addiction. It is where connected people can make problems disappear. One of those problems is Marlowe. Marlowe is brought there by Amthor's thugs and shot up with drugs. The ensuing hallucination scene is still impressive and more effective than the nightmarish D.T.s of Ray Milland in, The Lost Weekend. Other than the implied use of drugs that saw its way past the censors, the film is a straight forward tale of murder, theft, blackmail and double-crosses.
Although Powell was Chandler's favorite, and literally fits Chandler’s physical description of the detective, I did not immediately take to him. He hardly fits the popular image of the two fisted straight shooting detective warding off the dangerous dalliances of the femme fatale. There were times when I think he played him too cute. The scene where he played hop scotch prior to meeting Mr. Grayle still grates on me. The reunion with Anne Grayle in the back of the police car hearkens more to the sappy, hokey Hollywood endings of detective films of the 30s and 40s than that of a noir.
In Powell's defense, Chandler’s Marlowe is erudite and well read. In the novel Marlowe references Shakespeare and Hemingway and it's not hard to see Powell carrying it off. He easily captures the nonchalant, flippant attitude of Chandler's private eye. This was something I probably over-looked or could not grasp the first time I saw the film. It would have been nice had he played Marlowe again with the edge he displayed in, Cornered and Cry Danger.
Despite my reservations, Murder, My Sweet, is a darn good movie and an excellent mystery. It's a complex tale that takes one from A to B via a serpentine route. The acting is top notch, there are great 'characters' (none better than Esther Howard) and last but far from least it has the great Claire Trevor, as Velma Valento, who it might be said was, 'l'objet de Moose Malloy.
Dr. Sonderborg’s sanitarium is more than a place for dispensing drugs and giving his elite clientele, a place to kick their addiction. It is where connected people can make problems disappear. One of those problems is Marlowe. Marlowe is brought there by Amthor's thugs and shot up with drugs. The ensuing hallucination scene is still impressive and more effective than the nightmarish D.T.s of Ray Milland in, The Lost Weekend. Other than the implied use of drugs that saw its way past the censors, the film is a straight forward tale of murder, theft, blackmail and double-crosses.
Although Powell was Chandler's favorite, and literally fits Chandler’s physical description of the detective, I did not immediately take to him. He hardly fits the popular image of the two fisted straight shooting detective warding off the dangerous dalliances of the femme fatale. There were times when I think he played him too cute. The scene where he played hop scotch prior to meeting Mr. Grayle still grates on me. The reunion with Anne Grayle in the back of the police car hearkens more to the sappy, hokey Hollywood endings of detective films of the 30s and 40s than that of a noir.
In Powell's defense, Chandler’s Marlowe is erudite and well read. In the novel Marlowe references Shakespeare and Hemingway and it's not hard to see Powell carrying it off. He easily captures the nonchalant, flippant attitude of Chandler's private eye. This was something I probably over-looked or could not grasp the first time I saw the film. It would have been nice had he played Marlowe again with the edge he displayed in, Cornered and Cry Danger.
Despite my reservations, Murder, My Sweet, is a darn good movie and an excellent mystery. It's a complex tale that takes one from A to B via a serpentine route. The acting is top notch, there are great 'characters' (none better than Esther Howard) and last but far from least it has the great Claire Trevor, as Velma Valento, who it might be said was, 'l'objet de Moose Malloy.
One of the benefits of the studio system (and I wouldn’t mind seeing some form of it brought back) was it gave steady work for its employees. This is especially true for those character actors who pop up in hundreds of films across all genres. They were well trained actors, and many had years of theatrical experience. Their expertise was essential when a film had an inexperienced lead and their skills could do a lot of the heavy lifting. There is no better example than, The Killers. Often they stole not only the scene but the movie as well.
The scene stealer in, MMS, is Esther Howard. She is the first stop for Marlowe as he begins his search for Velma Valento. Powell’s laid back and casual demeanor plays well here. He knows not to get between Ms. Florian and her hootch. He lets her ramble on and makes sure her glass is never empty for too long. Howard makes Jessie out to be a slobbering, stumbling caricature of a drunk. When asked about Velma Valento she's all see no evil, hear no evil and knows nothing. She’s more than happy stringing Marlowe along, providing he keeps pouring that top-shelf whiskey without spilling any of it. Her demeanor changes the second he takes Valento’s photograph from her room. She chases him out and sober as a judge makes a phone call. This scene and her exchange with Marlowe always reminds me of Anne Bancroft's brilliant performance in the underappreciated, Malice.
If it's more of Ms. Howard you want check out in, Born To Kill. She great in every scene and she's in with some heavy hitters, i.e. Claire Trevor, Lawrence Tierney, Walter Slezak and Elisha Cook, Jr.
The scene stealer in, MMS, is Esther Howard. She is the first stop for Marlowe as he begins his search for Velma Valento. Powell’s laid back and casual demeanor plays well here. He knows not to get between Ms. Florian and her hootch. He lets her ramble on and makes sure her glass is never empty for too long. Howard makes Jessie out to be a slobbering, stumbling caricature of a drunk. When asked about Velma Valento she's all see no evil, hear no evil and knows nothing. She’s more than happy stringing Marlowe along, providing he keeps pouring that top-shelf whiskey without spilling any of it. Her demeanor changes the second he takes Valento’s photograph from her room. She chases him out and sober as a judge makes a phone call. This scene and her exchange with Marlowe always reminds me of Anne Bancroft's brilliant performance in the underappreciated, Malice.
If it's more of Ms. Howard you want check out in, Born To Kill. She great in every scene and she's in with some heavy hitters, i.e. Claire Trevor, Lawrence Tierney, Walter Slezak and Elisha Cook, Jr.
The focus of the movie changes with the appearance of Lindsay Marriott played by Douglas Walton. The noir world and the morally bankrupt elite life-style of the rich and famous intersect when Marriott solicits Marlowe’s aid. This scene is when the right side of the tracks enters into what had been a film about those on the wrong side of the tracks. It’s interesting to note the differences between Malloy’s and Marriott’s visits to Marlowe. Moose comes at night with a simple love-lorn request where Marlowe can use his brain. Marriott comes in the middle of a bright day with an offer that might not be totally above board, and for that he needs Marlowe’s brawn.
Walton made a career of playing, " ...ineffectual, effeminate, snobbish sophisticates, whining cowards, and other assorted wimps that seemed always in demand during Hollywood's heyday of the 1930s and 1940s." He played Percy Bysshe Shelley, husband of Mary Shelley (Elsa Lanchester) in the most excellent, The Bride of Frankenstein. The only other film of his I’ve seen is the forgotten John Ford gem, The Lost Patrol. Walton was certainly one of those character actors I wrote about. It says a lot for him that he set the table for two classics; The Bride of Frankenstein, and, MMS.
The right side of the tracks is represented again when a little later Ann Grayle (Anne Shirley) pays Marlowe a visit. Ann Grayle represents another carryover from the crime films of the 30s and 40s. She is the female who wants to partner with the male lead and solve the crime. Ann Grayle poses as a reporter to gather information from Marlowe. A reporter was one of the few roles where a woman could be inquisitive, competent, and effective, until of course she does something silly and needs the lead male to save her from the bad guy. That stereotype was shot to hell by Ella Raines in, The Phantom Lady.
Walton made a career of playing, " ...ineffectual, effeminate, snobbish sophisticates, whining cowards, and other assorted wimps that seemed always in demand during Hollywood's heyday of the 1930s and 1940s." He played Percy Bysshe Shelley, husband of Mary Shelley (Elsa Lanchester) in the most excellent, The Bride of Frankenstein. The only other film of his I’ve seen is the forgotten John Ford gem, The Lost Patrol. Walton was certainly one of those character actors I wrote about. It says a lot for him that he set the table for two classics; The Bride of Frankenstein, and, MMS.
The right side of the tracks is represented again when a little later Ann Grayle (Anne Shirley) pays Marlowe a visit. Ann Grayle represents another carryover from the crime films of the 30s and 40s. She is the female who wants to partner with the male lead and solve the crime. Ann Grayle poses as a reporter to gather information from Marlowe. A reporter was one of the few roles where a woman could be inquisitive, competent, and effective, until of course she does something silly and needs the lead male to save her from the bad guy. That stereotype was shot to hell by Ella Raines in, The Phantom Lady.
As the saying going, 'Behind every great noir is a great actress,' and in, Murder, My Sweet, that actress is Claire Trevor who makes her third and final appearance in my top25. She doesn’t appear until twenty six minutes into the movie, and it’s like the main event of a fight, with the proceeding scenes being the preliminaries. She sits disinterestedly in the drawing room. Our introduction to her pales to that of noted femme fatales as Barbara Stanwyck, Ava Gardner, Lana Turner, Jane Greer and Ann Savage in their respective noir classics. But, Ms. Trevor, doesn’t need a close up or a solo screen shot. She sits in a chair, her left leg extended and when Marlowe does what he's supposed to, which is stare, she deftly adjusts her skirt. She’s a poster child for bored insouciance.
She speaks in an articulate manner that borders affectation. She is as aware of her speech as she is with her clothes, her jewelry her body. Let's leave it to Raymond Chandler to succinctly, and brilliantly describe it: "She had a nice way of talking, cool, half-cynical, and yet not hardboiled. She rounded her words well." But, despite how she may try, there's no denying that she's not a woman to the manor born, but one who worked (and don't ask how or where she worked) her way up to the main house.
Mr. Grayle tolerates his trophy wife’s flirtations. There is no mistaking that this vain, self-glorious man, who at one time exerted power and virility, has made a deal to swallow his pride in order to bolster his ego by having this much younger woman as his wife.When he leaves the room he assures Marlowe she would be happy to answer any questions he might have. Powell and Trevor sit close on the couch. Marlowe digs for answers. She says to him:
- Let's dispense with the polite drinking, shall we? Would you mind?
- No. Not at all.
- I didn't think there were enough murders these days...
to make detecting very attractive to a young man.
When he learns of her relationship with Marriott, he asks:
-How many other Marriotts are there:
Pretty guys who take you dancing?
-I'm very fond of my husband.
-Only his two-step's getting a little stiff.
Before Mrs. Grayle can learn more of Marlowe’s two-step, the prim, proper, doting daughter Ann Grayle enters the room. She sees them canoodling then leaves slamming the door behind her. Trevor, who never turns her head from Marlowe, asks him who it was. He tells her and she says, "Strange child." Her, 'strange child,' conveys Helen's condescending attitude toward her naive, innocent, child-like step-daughter who, when it comes to men like Marlowe, has no clue how to get what she wants. Had Ann stayed she could have observed a master at work. Ms. Trevor can get more out of two words tan many could with a whole script.
My initial reaction to the film was it needed more Claire Trevor. I dread to think what MMS would have been without her. I hope that with the increase of popularity of noir films, especially from a younger audience, more people will discover the tremendous talent of Ms. Trevor.
She speaks in an articulate manner that borders affectation. She is as aware of her speech as she is with her clothes, her jewelry her body. Let's leave it to Raymond Chandler to succinctly, and brilliantly describe it: "She had a nice way of talking, cool, half-cynical, and yet not hardboiled. She rounded her words well." But, despite how she may try, there's no denying that she's not a woman to the manor born, but one who worked (and don't ask how or where she worked) her way up to the main house.
Mr. Grayle tolerates his trophy wife’s flirtations. There is no mistaking that this vain, self-glorious man, who at one time exerted power and virility, has made a deal to swallow his pride in order to bolster his ego by having this much younger woman as his wife.When he leaves the room he assures Marlowe she would be happy to answer any questions he might have. Powell and Trevor sit close on the couch. Marlowe digs for answers. She says to him:
- Let's dispense with the polite drinking, shall we? Would you mind?
- No. Not at all.
- I didn't think there were enough murders these days...
to make detecting very attractive to a young man.
When he learns of her relationship with Marriott, he asks:
-How many other Marriotts are there:
Pretty guys who take you dancing?
-I'm very fond of my husband.
-Only his two-step's getting a little stiff.
Before Mrs. Grayle can learn more of Marlowe’s two-step, the prim, proper, doting daughter Ann Grayle enters the room. She sees them canoodling then leaves slamming the door behind her. Trevor, who never turns her head from Marlowe, asks him who it was. He tells her and she says, "Strange child." Her, 'strange child,' conveys Helen's condescending attitude toward her naive, innocent, child-like step-daughter who, when it comes to men like Marlowe, has no clue how to get what she wants. Had Ann stayed she could have observed a master at work. Ms. Trevor can get more out of two words tan many could with a whole script.
My initial reaction to the film was it needed more Claire Trevor. I dread to think what MMS would have been without her. I hope that with the increase of popularity of noir films, especially from a younger audience, more people will discover the tremendous talent of Ms. Trevor.
There was no dearth of drug themed pre-code movies; albeit they were usually confined to opium dens and the users were the lowest of the low. Sonderborg’s clients are not society’s down and outers smoking their way to oblivion in opium dens, nor are they skid-row alcoholics. They are the rich and influential. Many are referred to by Amthor, who all in all likelihood gets a finder’s fee. Sonderborg’s sanitarium is clean and inconspicuous in a neighborhood full of nice homes.
Marlowe is taken to Sonderborg by Amthor’s thugs. The street criminals, thugs, and leg-breakers are conjoined with the likes of Amthor, Sonderborg, and old man Grayle. Helen/Velma (literally) personifies the two sides of the same coin that is a popular theme in Chandler’s works. Marlowe is definitely a low rent private eye. He’s got a cruddy office, on a cruddy street in a cruddy building where hallways are unswept and he doesn’t even have a secretary. The sanitarium, where this intersection takes place, is the symbiotic one hand washes the other relationship of the ‘haves’ and ‘have not.'
Marlowe it might be said, can look at Amthor, Marriott, Sonderborg, Helen Grayle then to Molloy, Jesse Florian, Sonderborg’s two thugs, and Velma Valento and not tell one from the other.
Marlowe is taken to Sonderborg by Amthor’s thugs. The street criminals, thugs, and leg-breakers are conjoined with the likes of Amthor, Sonderborg, and old man Grayle. Helen/Velma (literally) personifies the two sides of the same coin that is a popular theme in Chandler’s works. Marlowe is definitely a low rent private eye. He’s got a cruddy office, on a cruddy street in a cruddy building where hallways are unswept and he doesn’t even have a secretary. The sanitarium, where this intersection takes place, is the symbiotic one hand washes the other relationship of the ‘haves’ and ‘have not.'
Marlowe it might be said, can look at Amthor, Marriott, Sonderborg, Helen Grayle then to Molloy, Jesse Florian, Sonderborg’s two thugs, and Velma Valento and not tell one from the other.
There is no point rehashing the twists and turns that get us from A to B, except to say it is complicated, as almost all mysteries are, but at least there are no questions as to who killed who.
For a tale that demands our attention it helps there are little, if any sub-plots or diversions. I can only think of the bookend scenes with Marlowe and Grayle at the beginning and ending of the film that are unarguably superfluous. We’re looking at a ninety-five minute film without stretches of filler and/or waste. I would have liked to have seen more time to further develop the mysterious Jules Amthor.
When asked by Marlowe what’s his racket Amthor says:
-I am in a very sensitive profession.
I am a quack. Which is to say, I'm ahead of my time in the field of psychic treatment. Naturally, certain elements would like to show me in a bad light.
Velma had this to say about him:
-And it took me a while to discover just how insidious Amthor is...
he did me a lot of good…He treated my centers of speech…His system is partly mumbo-jumbo and partly the real thing. He flatters you. He gets into your past. You talk and talk and...That's the awful way he works: Uncovering a basis for blackmail.
Amthor's modus operandi is similar to that of Lilith Ritter and Stanton Carlise, in Nightmare Alley. Stanton nickels and dimes the hicks and rubes from Backwater, U.S.A., while Ritter and Amthor milk the well to do for thousands. In addition to practicing his 'quackery' among the hoi-polloi, he's in cahoots with Marriott the gigolo, and a dollar to a doughnut he gets a finder’s fee for sending patients to Sonderborg’s sanitarium.
As mentioned in the beginning of this review; a crime/mystery film will have a denouement where all the major players gather in a room and the detective explains what happened in the preceding 95% of the film. The epitome of this is, The Maltese Falcon. Bogie hits a walk off grand-slam with his assured, forceful and confident delivery. I’ve likened him to a lion tamer commandeering a cage full of the big cats. However, these neat expositions are another obstacle for a crime/detective film to be a noir. The classic noirs end with a quick resolution, usually through physical action rather than a logical detailed step by step explanation. Jot down your ten or twelve favorite noirs and see how many fit that description.
For a tale that demands our attention it helps there are little, if any sub-plots or diversions. I can only think of the bookend scenes with Marlowe and Grayle at the beginning and ending of the film that are unarguably superfluous. We’re looking at a ninety-five minute film without stretches of filler and/or waste. I would have liked to have seen more time to further develop the mysterious Jules Amthor.
When asked by Marlowe what’s his racket Amthor says:
-I am in a very sensitive profession.
I am a quack. Which is to say, I'm ahead of my time in the field of psychic treatment. Naturally, certain elements would like to show me in a bad light.
Velma had this to say about him:
-And it took me a while to discover just how insidious Amthor is...
he did me a lot of good…He treated my centers of speech…His system is partly mumbo-jumbo and partly the real thing. He flatters you. He gets into your past. You talk and talk and...That's the awful way he works: Uncovering a basis for blackmail.
Amthor's modus operandi is similar to that of Lilith Ritter and Stanton Carlise, in Nightmare Alley. Stanton nickels and dimes the hicks and rubes from Backwater, U.S.A., while Ritter and Amthor milk the well to do for thousands. In addition to practicing his 'quackery' among the hoi-polloi, he's in cahoots with Marriott the gigolo, and a dollar to a doughnut he gets a finder’s fee for sending patients to Sonderborg’s sanitarium.
As mentioned in the beginning of this review; a crime/mystery film will have a denouement where all the major players gather in a room and the detective explains what happened in the preceding 95% of the film. The epitome of this is, The Maltese Falcon. Bogie hits a walk off grand-slam with his assured, forceful and confident delivery. I’ve likened him to a lion tamer commandeering a cage full of the big cats. However, these neat expositions are another obstacle for a crime/detective film to be a noir. The classic noirs end with a quick resolution, usually through physical action rather than a logical detailed step by step explanation. Jot down your ten or twelve favorite noirs and see how many fit that description.
The denouement concludes at the beach house but begins in Marlowe's office. The scene is similiar to the one early in the movie. Marlowe sits at his desk with his back to the door, neon lights flash through a curtain less window as he looks at the photo of Velma Valento.
Moose enters, and he's not happy. Marlowe shows him the photo.
- Is that your girl? That's your girl, isn't it? That's Velma. It says, "Always, Velma," doesn't it?
-I don't like nobody to kid with me.
-Nobody's kidding with you. Somebody's kidding with me. ... That (photo) was meant to nip up anybody who was looking for Velma.
A Macguffin is used to describe any object that advances plot, usually because the characters desire to acquire or protect it. The Maltese Falcon from the movie of the same name may be the most recognizable. The ace of macguffins might be the photo of Velma Valento that led Marlowe on a wild goose chase. Marlowe as they say had been, 'pranked.'
Forgive me if I'm Captain Obvious but the photo of Velma is as much a phony as the much sought for black bird. Jesse Florian lacks the basic requirements of beauty and sexual allure to be a femme fatale, but she sure played Marlowe for a chump. On the circuitous route given by Chandler to get us from A to B., Jesse Florian is one of those letters in between.
I give the film’s happy/sappy ending a pass, due in no small part that, Murder,My Sweet, is a bona fide crime/private eye classic. The inexperience of Powell, relative to this genre, was in some ways a blessing. He could not dominate a scene the way Bogie could. Compare their expository deliveries as the prime example. In many scenes the other actors took the lead in and Marlowe was essentially a hapless by-stander, personified when he pleads with the uncooperative, Dr. Sonderborg: “When you got a gun, people are supposed to do what you tell them." The denouement has one of Marlowe’s best lines that always elicits a laugh from me. When Moose enters the room after he hears a shot he asks to see Velma. Marlowe points down to Velma’s body and says,
“…You got a refund coming."
Powell was the best Philip Marlowe, and Murder, My Sweet, is the best Marlowe film. It would have been great if Powell reprised his role in other films. His considerable talent would have allowed him to project a harder yet still refined Marlowe.
There's nothing I like better than watching a great mystery written by a great writer, directed by a great director with great all around acting and a great actor in the lead. Murder My Sweet, is one such film, and deserves its high ranking.
There's nothing I like better than watching a great mystery written by a great writer, directed by a great director with great all around acting and a great actor in the lead. Murder My Sweet, is one such film, and deserves its high ranking.