The Long Goodbye

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.

I admit, when I first viewed "The Long Goodbye", in 1973, I didn't like the film; the signature Altman touches (rambling storyline, cartoonish characters, dialog that fades in and out) seemed ill-suited to a hard-boiled detective movie, and Elliott Gould as Philip Marlowe? No WAY! Bogie had been perfect, Dick Powell, nearly as good, but "M.A.S.H.'s" 'Trapper John'? Too ethnic, too 'hip', too 'Altman'! Well, seeing it again, nearly 34 years later, I now realize I was totally wrong! The film is brilliant, a carefully-crafted color Noir, with Gould truly remarkable as a man of morals in a period (the 1970s) lacking morality. Perhaps it isn't Raymond Chandler, but I don't think he'd have minded Altman's 'spin', at all! In the first sequence of the film, Marlowe's cat wakes him to be fed; out of cat food, the detective drives to an all-night grocery, only to discover the cat's favorite brand is out of stock, so he attempts to fool the cat, emptying another brand into an empty can of 'her' food. The cat isn't fooled by the deception, however, and runs away, for good...

A simple scene, one I thought was simply Altman quirkiness, in '73...but, in fact, it neatly foreshadows the major theme of the film: betrayal by a friend, and the price. As events unfold, Marlowe would uncover treachery, a multitude of lies, and self-serving, amoral characters attempting to 'fool' him...with his resolution decisive, abrupt, and totally unexpected! The casting is first-rate. Elliott Gould, Altman's only choice as Marlowe, actually works extremely well, BECAUSE he is against 'type'. Mumbling, bemused, a cigarette eternally between his lips, he gives the detective a blue-collar integrity that plays beautifully off the snobbish Malibu 'suspects'. And what an array of characters they are! From a grandiosely 'over-the-top' alcoholic writer (Sterling Hayden, in a role intended for Dan Blocker, who passed away, before filming began), to his sophisticated, long-suffering wife (Nina Van Pallandt), to a thuggish Jewish gangster attempting to be genteel (Mark Rydell), to a smug health guru (Henry Gibson), to Marlowe's cocky childhood buddy (Jim Bouton)...everyone has an agenda, and the detective must plow through all the deception, to uncover the truth.

There are a couple of notable cameos; Arnold Schwarzenegger, in only his second film, displays his massive physique, as a silent, mustached henchman; and David Carradine plays a philosophical cell mate, after Marlowe 'cracks wise' to the cops.

The film was a failure when released; Altman blamed poor marketing, with the studio promoting it as a 'traditional' detective flick, and audiences (including me) expecting a Bogart-like Marlowe. Time has, however, allowed the movie to succeed on it's own merits, and it is, today, considered a classic.

So please give the film a second look...You may discover a new favorite, in an old film!

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.

Usually smoking, and sometimes smirking, Elliott Gould mumbles and stumbles his way through Altman's re-invention of this gumshoe novel by Raymond Chandler. The film's unexpectedly interesting ending suggests a good story, but you'd never know it from the film's plot, which rambles and meanders, seemingly without purpose, a pointless talk-fest wherein Marlowe interacts with the cops, a femme fatale, a buddy who wants to disappear, and assorted hoods and mobsters. It's all rather sordid and seedy as you would expect, except that it's brought up to date, for 1973, and in its "hipness" and sophistication becomes something of a parody of 1940's private-eye flicks. Gould's Marlowe is annoyingly smug, with a too casual manner. And I found none of the other characters to be sympathetic or likable.

The dialogue and the acting are stilted and self-conscious. In one party sequence that takes place on the beach, Dr. Verringer (Henry Gibson) insists that he get his money. The guests stand around, as if they are movie extras brought in for this one day of shooting. The viewer can easily imagine microphones just over the heads of the principal actors, and personnel just off-screen, waiting for Altman to yell: "Cut". Along with other scenes, it looks forced and staged.

The film's best attribute is its cinematography. I especially like the sequence showing human figures retreating into the surf at night. Combined with the sound of ocean waves, it makes for an interesting segment.

Some viewers love this film because of Altman's direction and Gould's performance. Others hate it because it so deviates from Chandler's original story. I personally did not like the film, mostly because of Marlowe, himself, and because of the tangled and convoluted plot, populated by loquacious characters who I found totally not interesting.

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.