In the course of a detailed exploration of the history of Hollywood cinema, I came eventually to the world of genre. Film noir was one in particular which enticed me, its combination of German Expressionism influenced cinematography, gritty drama, and memorable dialogue instantly more appealing than the inherent morality of the western or the choreographed aesthetic of the musical. Offered as a paragon of the noir, Murder, My Sweet was my second of the genre, and first to introduce me to both the private eye and the femme fatale.
Hired by the appropriately named Moose Malloy, private eye Philip Marlowe is tasked with finding his former lover Velma. When a client hiring Marlowe to act as a bodyguard is murdered whilst attempting to purchase back a stolen necklace, the detective finds himself thrust into a world of deception, confusion, and convolution.
A narrative explored through the now-blinded protagonist's flashback, Murder, My Sweet benefits from one of the greatest narrations in cinematic memory. Adapted from the novel Farewell, My Lovely by hardboiled crime fiction legend Raymond Chandler, the film exploits the author's rich dialogue at every chance it gets. Marlowe is the king of the simile, each line coming from him awash with a cynicism-laced hilarity. The script is the kind that, upon a second viewing, will have your lips moving along with it, so unforgettable are the words within. Dick Powell, a musical star, delivers these iconic lines as though he was born to speak them, his straight-faced gaze as important to their effect as their original composition. The plot, in line with this "seeker hero" vein of noir, is distorted, intricate, and demanding. Full attention is a base requirement to understanding the turns in the film's story as Marlowe pursues the answers to questions which have often yet to be asked. Powell's performance—surely the best interpretation of Marlowe set to celluloid; certainly the greatest of what I've seen—finds support in the broad cast of characters which appear regularly throughout his investigation. The archetypal noir relationships are all present here, and well articulated. Not afraid to play on concepts to a degree, the film has us wondering for a time the allegiances of the two central female characters, neither of their motives entirely understood until the film's climactic ending. One of the most cinematographically experimental and entertaining aspects of the film is the inevitable scene in which the protagonist is knocked unconscious by a sadistic thug, Marlowe's awakening from this accompanied by some of the narration's best moments and the camera's oddest tricks and techniques. A particularly enjoyable aspect of the film, to mention yet another, is the ongoing relationship between Marlowe and the police force, the balance of animosity and tolerance—a staple of the genre—given some of its best treatment here.
Thanks to Murder, My Sweet, my undying admiration for this genre was cemented after just two visits. On the more comedic side of the aforementioned, it is undoubtedly the finest example of the delicious dialogue of the novels from which the genre was spawned. Powell's Marlowe is, for my money, the finest, Marlowe himself perhaps film noir's greatest character. Probably the finest of this branch of detective based noir, Murder, My Sweet is just about unforgettable.
Hired by the appropriately named Moose Malloy, private eye Philip Marlowe is tasked with finding his former lover Velma. When a client hiring Marlowe to act as a bodyguard is murdered whilst attempting to purchase back a stolen necklace, the detective finds himself thrust into a world of deception, confusion, and convolution.
A narrative explored through the now-blinded protagonist's flashback, Murder, My Sweet benefits from one of the greatest narrations in cinematic memory. Adapted from the novel Farewell, My Lovely by hardboiled crime fiction legend Raymond Chandler, the film exploits the author's rich dialogue at every chance it gets. Marlowe is the king of the simile, each line coming from him awash with a cynicism-laced hilarity. The script is the kind that, upon a second viewing, will have your lips moving along with it, so unforgettable are the words within. Dick Powell, a musical star, delivers these iconic lines as though he was born to speak them, his straight-faced gaze as important to their effect as their original composition. The plot, in line with this "seeker hero" vein of noir, is distorted, intricate, and demanding. Full attention is a base requirement to understanding the turns in the film's story as Marlowe pursues the answers to questions which have often yet to be asked. Powell's performance—surely the best interpretation of Marlowe set to celluloid; certainly the greatest of what I've seen—finds support in the broad cast of characters which appear regularly throughout his investigation. The archetypal noir relationships are all present here, and well articulated. Not afraid to play on concepts to a degree, the film has us wondering for a time the allegiances of the two central female characters, neither of their motives entirely understood until the film's climactic ending. One of the most cinematographically experimental and entertaining aspects of the film is the inevitable scene in which the protagonist is knocked unconscious by a sadistic thug, Marlowe's awakening from this accompanied by some of the narration's best moments and the camera's oddest tricks and techniques. A particularly enjoyable aspect of the film, to mention yet another, is the ongoing relationship between Marlowe and the police force, the balance of animosity and tolerance—a staple of the genre—given some of its best treatment here.
Thanks to Murder, My Sweet, my undying admiration for this genre was cemented after just two visits. On the more comedic side of the aforementioned, it is undoubtedly the finest example of the delicious dialogue of the novels from which the genre was spawned. Powell's Marlowe is, for my money, the finest, Marlowe himself perhaps film noir's greatest character. Probably the finest of this branch of detective based noir, Murder, My Sweet is just about unforgettable.