The Simple Art of Marlowe – The American Spectator

Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. He is the hero; he is everything. He must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honor.… He must be the best man in his world and a good enough man for any world.”
— Raymond Chandler, The Simple Art of Murder

The last man I expected to see coming out of Hollywoke was Philip Marlowe. After all, he represents everything the modern entertainment industry and its metrosexual purveyors despise — a tough, self-sufficient, macho yet chivalrous white man. Before reencountering him on screen, I thought maybe I wouldn’t recognize him. That maybe he’d been muted into a sensitive asexual mope like his most famous descendant, a certain British secret agent. Or that he’d appear lost amid societal changes which devalue masculinity, like a beloved archaeologist-adventurer in his upcoming fifth movie. To my pleasant surprise, the new Marlowe is as Chandleresque as ever, perceptively embodied by a too old yet still vital Liam Neeson in Neil Jordan’s excellent new film, Marlowe.

I’m an extreme fan of the title hero and lifelong devotee of his creator, Raymond Chandler, a tough guy in print and life. As a screenwriter accustomed to getting endless notes on a project, I often long to react with my favorite quote of his, “Put all comments on the check.” But then I don’t have a Marlowe to fall back on, or screen credits like Double Indemnity and Strangers on a Train. Still, I thought Hollywoke would have the last laugh on the author as it had on Ian Fleming. Refreshingly, Neeson plays Marlowe exactly as Chandler wrote him — hard, sharp, gallant, and able to navigate a dark underworld without being tainted.

In one exemplary scene, Marlowe turns down the seductive advance of a gorgeous client (Diane Kruger) and tells her the reason. “Because I’m in your employ. Because you’re half my age. Because you’re so beautiful, I’d lose my bearings.” This simple exchange contains three elements seemingly beyond the comprehension, let alone ability, of most contemporary filmmakers. First, a Caucasian couple — the movie takes place in 1939 L.A. but that wouldn’t stop a typical new production from forced minority inclusion (see Queen Cleopatra). Second, feminine beauty and sensuality — the shocking notion that a woman’s power over men could actually derive from her looks and their application rather than physical prowess (again see Queen Cleopatra). And third, a (toxic) male putting his code of honor above base instinct.

This was all the more welcome since Marlowe had once before been subjected to the Man Out of His Time scenario — in Robert Altman’s misguided, overrated The Long Goodbye (1973). At the time, Altman had established his reputation with impressive countercultural twists on two major movie genres — the war picture (M*A*S*H, 1970) and the western (McCabe & Mrs. Miller, 1971). So, deconstructing the detective film seemed like the logical next step.

And what better hero to reimagine than the most famous private eye of all — one previously well played by the quick-witted likes of Dick Powell (Murder, My Sweet, 1944), Humphrey Bogart (The Big Sleep, 1946), Robert Montgomery (Lady in the Lake, 1946), George Montgomery (The Brasher Doubloon, 1947), and James Garner (Marlowe, 1969). Altman’s Marlowe, the unprepossessing Elliott Gould, spends the movie wandering around hippie-heavy L.A. as if in a daze himself. The Long Goodbye performed poorly at the box-office and broke Altman’s streak (though critics have been trying to upgrade its reputation ever since). Fortunately, the durable king of film noir, Robert Mitchum, successfully took over the Marlowe role two years later in the sublime Farewell, My Lovely, then again in The Big Sleep (1978).

In a touch of show business irony, the writer-director who brought real-man hero Philip Marlowe back to the big screen after 45 years, Neil Jordan, made the first major film on transgenderism back in 1992, The Crying Game. Yet, somehow, Marlowe’s white masculinity seems more shocking today than Jaye Davidson’s biracial femininity did back then. Three decades of anti-male feminism and political correctness in Hollywood fare caused an old-fashioned mystery to appear radical.

Being a superior work of art, Jordan’s Marlowe achieves inclusivity the correct way — from the story, not by quota. Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje scores as a gangster’s black driver-henchman, Cedric, who is also a film aficionado. He and Marlowe bond out of survival need rather than woke expediency, and his race becomes the catalyst for a jarring and satisfying scene. The chemistry between Neeson and Akinnuoye-Agbaje elevates the picture.

In a recent article here, I noted how a staple female character type, the femme-fatale, had vanished from the screen as a politically incorrect embarrassment to Hollywoke mavens. A knowledgeable auteur like Neil Jordan understood that no respectable film-noir — especially one featuring Philip Marlowe — could work without one. And Diane Kruger fills that bill beautifully. Equally impressive are Jessica Lange’s marvelous transition from leading lady to matriarchal dragon lady, Colm Meaney as Marlowe’s cop buddy, Alan Cumming as the gangster, and — especially and intentionally — Danny Huston, almost channeling his legendary director father John’s chilling performance in Chinatown.

How much Marlowe stands out from the tiresomely liberal art culture can be readily seen in the blurb for the forthcoming Spenser novel. The late creator of Boston PI Spenser, Robert B. Parker, always credited Chandler and Marlowe as the inspiration for his bestselling novels. And the Chandler estate rewarded Parker by authorizing him to complete Chandler’s unfinished Marlowe novel, Poodle Springs, plus a sequel to The Big Sleep, Perchance to Dream. Author Ace Atkins inherited the Spenser series, and his upcoming book has the hero basically bodyguarding an AOC copy.

“Since her first grassroots run, she’s used to the antipathy and intimidation women of color often face when seeking power,” reads the blurb to Bye Bye Baby. “It doesn’t take long for Spenser to cross paths with an extremist group called The Minutemen … pushing an agenda of white supremacy and toxic masculinity.”

Good God. I say read or reread Chandler’s Marlowe books instead. Or see Marlowe.