Farewell, My Lovely (1975) User Reviews (110)

"She gave me a smile I could feel in my hip pocket"

[ackstasis · 7/10 · 19 September 2009]

The work of Raymond Chandler experienced a resurgence in the 1970s, thanks to Robert Altman's 'The Long Goodbye (1973)' and Roman Polanski's very Chandler-ish 'Chinatown (1974).' The waning career of Robert Mitchum was also revived by two Chandler adaptations, 'Farewell, My Lovely (1975)' {previously filmed by Edward Dmytryk as 'Murder, My Sweet (1944)'} and 'The Big Sleep (1978) {previously filmed by Howard Hawks}. Though outside the traditionally-accepted film noir period (approx. 1940-1958), the 1970s provided an ideal climate for a resurgence of the style. The demise of the Production Code in the 1960s had allowed filmmakers the freedom to explore more explicit themes, usually implying an increase in language, violence and nudity. Chandler's novels – which typically dabbled in themes of prostitution, homosexuality and pornography – could now be adapted faithfully without the threat of censorship, though fortunately, in the case of this particular film, director Dick Richards doesn't overdo the sleaze. The source material is one of the few Marlowe novels I haven't read, but 'Farewell, My Lovely' nevertheless seems a loyal interpretation of the author's style.

Philip Marlowe is the sort of role that Robert Mitchum would have nailed in the 1950s, when he always seemed to feel old and weary without actually looking it. Nevertheless – though he lacks the cocky vigour of Dick Powell, or the invincibility of Humphrey Bogart – the aging Mitchum does communicate what is perhaps Marlowe's most defining characteristic: that of a disillusioned, world-weary private dick looking for something in this world, anything, worth fighting for. In his latest case, Marlowe is hired by fearless lug Moose Malloy (Jack O'Halloran) to find his girlfriend Velma, who vanished while Malloy was serving a prison sentence. As always, what had initially seemed a straightforward assignment soon gets Marlowe embroiled in a complex patchwork of deceits, murders and double-crossings. Crucial to the mystery is Charlotte Rampling (emulating Lauren Bacall) as the adulterous wife of an old millionaire, and Oscar-nominated Sylvia Myles as an alcoholic performance artist. Also look out for small roles from Harry Dean Stanton as Det. Rolfe, and Sylvester Stallone as a lustful thug.

'Farewell, My Lovely' does a fine job of translating Chandler's pessimistic vision of urban decay and human depravity. The 1940s adaptations are, of course, superbly entertaining, but most of them – particularly 'The Big Sleep (1946)' and 'Lady in the Lake (1947)' – are clearly filmed on a pristine studio set, somewhat offsetting the grittiness of Chandler's characters and plot. Richards' film, to his credit, is incredibly ugly. Aside from Helen Grayle, whose sprawling mansion suffers next to Buckingham Palace, most of Marlowe's witnesses live in appalling squalor; even his own office is drab and bathed in shadow. Yet, despite the unpolished milieu, 'Farewell, My Lovely' most assuredly has a heart. Marlowe's wordless interactions with the son of a penniless musician help us see beneath the detective's front of indifference, hinting at his admiration for the honest working-class, and his fervent distaste towards the decadence of the wealthy. When offered his own wealth, Marlowe unthinkingly surrenders it to someone he deems more worthy, a touching but cheerless ending to a film steeped in the unpleasantness of human existence.

Chandler Without the CODE

[bkoganbing · 8/10 · 10 August 2006]

When Dick Powell did his version of this Raymond Chandler classic Philip Marlowe story, he and RKO were laboring under the handicap of the motion picture code. Certain things like prostitution and homosexuality were simply not talked about in those times. Still with the changes that had to be made in the plot a really great version was done and it changed the career of Dick Powell forever.

Now back in those days, Robert Mitchum was getting started and would soon be doing many a noir film for RKO himself. In getting him for this version under the original title of Farewell My Lovely the producers certainly got themselves someone with whom the Philip Marlowe character fit like a glove.

Even with color, this version is remarkably evocative of the Forties style noir film. Charlotte Rampling steps nicely into the well trod path of people like Lauren Bacall and Lizabeth Scott.

For those who don't know the barebones of the story, Philip Marlowe is hired to find Velma Valento by her old gangster boy friend, a giant of a man named Moose Malloy who just finished doing a stretch in prison. Later on a man named Lindsay Marriott hires him to as a bodyguard and he's killed. The two cases are related and the how and why is what moves the plot.

John Ireland another forties veteran of many a noir film plays police lieutenant Nulty and my favorite in the film is Sylvia Miles who is the luckless dipsomaniacal Mrs. Florian.

I do marvel when I see this film at how well the spirit of the forties was captured in this film. Turn off the color on your set and its just like watching a great noir flick from that decade.

They don't make films like that anymore.

[Galina_movie_fan · 8/10 · 18 March 2004]

L.A. of June 1941 as it was depicted in the Raymond Chandler's novel of the same title is filled with the dark secrets of the past that better stay uncovered. Philip Marlow, PE (Robert Mitcum) takes a job to find a vanished girlfriend of the felon Moose Malloy, and he has no idea what will follow. As Marlow searches for Velma Galento, he has to deal with a beautiful but cold and calculating seductress (Charlotte Rampling - young, sensual and dangerous), a jealous corrupt detective (Stanton), an old alcoholic girlfriend (Sylvia Miles in one of her two Oscar nominated performances, second - the shortest in the history of Oscars, for "Midnight Cowboy"), and a buffed thug (Sylvester Stallone -- it was fun to see him before he became a star of Rocky and Rambo).

This adaptation of Raymond Chandler novel features action, suspense, humor, mystery and Robert Mitchum in one of his best performances as a man struggling with cynicism, hatred, and betrayal.

Encore

[rmax304823 · 6 January 2003]

SPOILERS I don't think such effort would have been put into this film had it not followed so closely upon the heels of the superlative "Chinatown." It isn't as original or, generally speaking, as well done as "Chinatown" but it's the most admirable adaptation of Chandler that's come to the screen so far.

The opening musical theme sets the tone for the rest of the film -- a melancholy trombone over some lush and wistful strings. (In "Chinatown" it was a lonely trumpet, and the incidental music was more original, even though by Goldsmith.) The photography here is by the same artist, Alonzo, and equals that in "Chinatown," although the tone is darker. The interiors are shadowy and menacing. There are only one or two brief, sunny outdoor-California scenes, and none of the beauty of Echo Park at mid-day.

The period detail is outstanding, right down to the cheap tumblers with those three or four colored rings that Jesse Florian guzzles bourbon from. And the time is evoked equally well by references to Joe DiMaggio's hitting streak in 1941 which, like any optimism Philip Marlowe might show during the story, finally ends. (DiMaggio picked up his hitting streak again for another incredible number, but that doesn't belong here.) And, yes, the Grail mansion is resplendent but this is a movie about the seedy parts of Los Angeles, as Mitchum's idiosyncratic voiceovers keep informing us. "It was the kind of place I was always afraid I'd wind up in -- alone and broke." Some of the other felicities are as funny as they were intended to be: "My bank account was trying to crawl under a duck's belly." "She threw me a look I could feel in my hip pocket."

The plot is hard to follow. All Chandler's plots are hard to follow. They're annoying. And he was sober while writing this one too. If you miss Mitchum's wrap-up explanation at the end, I guarantee you will never connect fai sui jade with Velma Galento. Hawks used to complain about his version of "The Big Sleep" that nobody could figure out who committed one of the murders, not even the director.

The performances, however, are uniformly fine, especially Mitchum's He was at that point in his career when his face -- his whole demeanor -- was beginning to sag. True he's big, and he's been through a lot and he can take it, but he's beginning to tire and go soft. It's reflected both in his voice and his appearance. He has the appropriate ambivalent relationship with the police. The chief, Nulty, is a political animal but sympathetic in his own way. His assistant, played by Harry Dean Stanton, is a corrupt cop and is seen pocketing a silver cigarette case at a crime scene. (Their exact equivalents can be seen in "Chinatown.")

There is some nudity in this film. Of course it wasn't in the novel. But it's not out of place. A few brief glimpses in a cathouse and they have an almost hallucinatory quality corresponding to Mitchum's mental state at the time. Sylvia Miles is superb prancing around with a buzz on, trying to resurrect her wrecked voice and equally wrecked body. The other performances deserve compliments too. Charlotte Rampling has been criticized but I'm not sure why. She oozes a kind of sensual deviance. Jack Halloran, alas, isn't really that good. Except for his devotion to Velma he's clumsy, selfish, and not at all sympathetic.

There are some editorial touches here that make this something more than another cheap imitation noir. Moose picks up a heckler in "the colored joint" and throws him onto a table with hardly any show of effort. Cut to a joint shot of Mitchum glancing over at the black bartender as they exchange looks conveying the general idea that this behemoth is nobody to jerk around. For those who think Mitchum somnambulates through his films, watch the scene in which Madam Anthor slaps his face and he pauses, then lets out a horrifying feral shout, lunges out of his chair and belts her.

It's a worthwhile film, maybe with somewhat more appeal for middle-aged or exhausted people. Mitchum's speech to Nulty towards the end is actually rather moving. "Thanks, Nulty, but that's not what I need right now. I need a lot of life insurance. I need another drink. I need a vacation, a house in the country. Everything I touch turns to s***. I've got a hat and a coat and a gun, and that's it." That kind of dialog stands out like a tarantula on a slice of angel-food cake.

You know something? In the entire film we never once see the inside of Mitchum's house or apartment. The guy seems to be homeless. No wonder he's tired.

Nice film; magic Mitchum.

[the red duchess · 7/10 · 30 August 2000]

In the wake of 'The Long Goodbye' and, especially, 'Chinatown', there was a profusion in the mid- to late-70s of recreated films noirs of the Chandlerian bent, many featuring aging stars. 'Farewell My Lovely' is one of the best - while it does not reek of the depravity of Dmytryk's 1944 version, starring Dick Powell, it is broader in scope, and truer to a kind of lived-in realism, as opposed to hard-boiled iconography. It's nice to see 1940s L.A. close to what it might have looked like, and not the vague dreamworlds presented by classic noir. it would be a mistake to assume that this is a progressive, or revisionist movie - while it scores well in its treatment of race, the fundamental misogyny of Chandler's source novel and Dmytryk's film lingers. Indeed, it is less palatable, in that 40s Hollywood made its villainesses glamorous, charismatic and desirable; Charlotte Rampling seems barely to exist on screen, a mere assemblage of corruption and cold amorality.

The hard-boiled detective fictions of Dashiell Hammett and Raymond Chandler were created in conscious opposition to the reactionary puzzles of the English Golden Age (eg Agatha Christie), which were exercises in asserting order and social control. Chandler tried to express a bleaker reality, one where arbitrary violence and corruption is not so easily contained, where smaller crimes may be solved, but society itself is rotten, diseased, irredeemable. Chandler pits his hero Philip Marlowe against this malaise, tough, solitary, misanthropic, frequently compared to medieval knights, as hopelessly out of his time as Don Quixote.

Chandler's novels are completely filtered through the prejudiced narration of Marlowe, so instead of realism we get a barely controlled expressionism, riddled with ideology. Marlowe is unable to trust anyone, and defines himself against everyone else, the Other, especially women and blacks. This is a subtext in the novel, but RIchards foregrounds it in the early scenes of this film. When Marlowe enters a black neighbourhood investigating Velma, he is very uncomfortable in an alien environment. Although, as a detective, he has the freedom to navigate the city, to access both poor black neighbourhoods and obscenely wealthy white mansions in a way neither one of these nor the other can, he is still constrained by ideology, the ideology of his times - he is not as apart from the corruption as he thinks. And so we frequently see him indoors, even imprisoned, by cops and criminals alike - like a conservative, everything is connected for Marlowe, except everything stinks.

This making mental states physical is important for a narrative seen through its hero's head. It puts us on our guard, distances us from Marlowe in a way Chandler never lets us, allows us to be more critical. Another device is the bizarre use of narrative voiceover. This seems conventional enough, Marlowe telling us the story, controlling, interpreting, often verbatim from the book. But his voiceover is broken - he starts addressing us, then, within that, he tells Nulty a story; so that the viewer is at two removes from a story that we only have it's teller's word for its veracity. In its modest way, the film DOES have revisionist aspirations.

Unlike Altman's film, 'Farewell' is purely enjoyable on the level of a murder-mystery thriller - the plot is satisfyingly, Chandlerianly (sic?) opaque; there are sufficient interesting supporting characters; the violence seems quaintly 1940s; the music is exciting. The film, therefore, would be pleasant, but harmless, except for one crucial element: Robert Mitchum, America's greatest actor. His aging Marlowe might be more appropriate to 'The Long Goodbye', but this is an astonishing portrait of middle- giving on to old-age, a study of a man struggling with cynicism, trying to maintain order (wisecracks; narration; frequent references to baseball, a game with rules) and humanity (the kid) in a world that only offers diabolic inversions of each.

Even more resonantly, the film is a film about film noir, about acting, about Robert Mitchum, soon to become famous in the period represented, soon the embodiment of the doomed noir hero. The Chandlerian dialogue that works wonderfully on the page can seem corny and stilted when spoken, but Mitchum pulls it off with melancholy beauty. He is the only screen Marlowe that seems like an actual human being who has lived - not even Bogie quite managed that.

Mitchum's Marlowe Is Very Good

[BaronBl00d · 7/10 · 16 July 2009]

Farwell My Lovely is much closer to the novel than the other previous adaptation Murder My Sweet from the 40's. This film is also a better film, but it has some flaws and seems like it was just made a decade too late. For starters let's talk Phillip Marlowe, Raymond Chandler's anti-hero. I liked Bogart's Marlowe a whole lot and find his portrayal my favorite, yet Mitchum does a very credible even superior job as the private eye working within his own code of ethics. He says the narration lines wonderfully and he looks 1940's. He, if the lighting is really good which fortunately for him isn't too terribly often, looks a little worse for wear at times, but I believe he carries the role off both in spirit and physicality. The rest of the cast is equally good with some spot-on character acting from the likes of John Ireland, Anthony Zerbe, and Sylvia Miles giving a really good performance as a lush and one time lounge singer. The story, like much of Chandler's work,is surprisingly complex as Marlowe is brought into the case of a missing girlfriend of an ex-con and another case of abducted jade jewelry - both cases melding together and bringing about a rather astounding conclusion. Director Dick Richards conveys the atmosphere of the time period impeccably. Farewell My Lovely is a solid mystery with a chance to see some first-rate acting by an American screen legend Robert Mitchum.

Splendid film chronicles a Detective Story in this remarkably faithful adaptation from Raymond Chandler novel

[ma-cortes · 7/10 · 27 March 2013]

The best of the more modern renditions of Forties' detective noir films ; this is the second adaptation of Raymond Chandler's novel, is much closer to the source text than the original . Featuring world-weary private eye Philip Marlowe (magnificent Robert Mitchum as a serviceable and seen-it-all detective) chasing for an ex-inmate's (Jack O'Halloran) lost girlfriend in 1941 Los Angeles . Meantime , there happens various murders and Marlowe being interrogated by Police Inspectors (John Ireland , Harry Dean Stanton) . The eye private becomes involved into a dark world of killing , treason and leading in twisted results .

This interesting , hard-boiled film packs thrills , suspense , mayhem , and employs flashback fashion in ever-twisting directions , using that crisp Raymond Chandler narrative . The picture offers a nicely detailed production design by Dean Tavoularis who designed The Godfather . This is a remake and only a pace behind the Dick Powell original , using the novel's title from the first recreation titled ¨Murder my sweet¨(1944) by Edward Dmytryck starred by Dick Powell , Claire Trevor , Mike Mazurki and Otto Kruger . Very good acting by Robert Mitchum , even at 57 , as a down-on-his-luck detective who searches an ex-convict's sweetheart . This is a breakthrough dramatically for the great Robert Mitchum , at his best . Charlotte Rampling is stunning as a Femme Fatale and does quite a nice imitation of Lauren Bacall . Excellent support cast plenty of veteran actors as John Irekand , Sylvia Miles , Harry Dean Stanton , Anthony Zerbe and introducing the massive Jack O'Halloran . Furthermore , there's an early screen character for Silvester Stallone who along with Joe Spinell play the bad guys .

Classic cinematographer John A. Alonzo prowls his camera menacingly through some wonderfully seedy neo-Forties settings . Evocative and atmospheric musical score by David Shire , including enjoyable leitmotif . This agreeable thick-ear thriller was well directed by Dick Richards , recreating compellingly this thrilling story , perhaps the most accurate of Chandler adaptations , and whose best movie this is . Furthermore , Dick gets to remain the mystery and suspense until the final . Before entering the film industry , Dick Richards was a contributing photographer for Life magazine , subsequently turning into filmmaking , he is a good craftsman who has directed a few films but of great quality , such as ¨The Culpepper Cattle¨, ¨March or die¨ , Death valley¨ and ¨Rafferty and the Gold Dust Twins ¨, in addition , he found the script for 'Tootsie' and co-produced it with Sydney Pollack . Rating : above average , essential and indispensable watching this Chandler's favorite version .

My favorite adaption of Raymond Chandler

[hankeyham · 10/10 · 16 July 2001]

This is an extremely underrated film. It has a deliciousness, shot in whiskey tones. Mitchum's voice-over, with all the wry Chandler-esque tired wisdom, strikes a great balance of period, humor and self-awareness. Charlotte Rampling lives up to the sad, irresistible breathtaking beauty that you try to imagine reading some of Chandler's books. There was another Mitchum-Marlowe (The Big Sleep), and he was certainly born to play this role, but it missed the taste. Not so with this one. It's positively redolent. Great mystery story and lots of fun.

Forced to compare

[bob998 · 6/10 · 17 February 2018]

That's the trouble with watching old movies: you are always going to compare them to others you've seen. I found Farewell, My Lovely to be inferior in almost every way to Murder My Sweet when it comes to performances. Mitchum was probably 20 years too old to be playing Marlowe; there is very little snap in his dialogues with other actors whereas Dick Powell had a wonderful blend of sarcasm and directness. Charlotte Rampling has played women in jeopardy throughout her career, but here she's playing a hard-bitten villain and she just can't rise to the demands of the part. This is a great casting flaw. Mike Mazurki was a marvellous Malloy, far and away superior to the bland O'Halloran here. Sylvia Miles supplies enough vitality to keep things going in her scenes. Art direction and music are no more than perfunctory. Noir fans should stick to the Dmytryk version from 1943; it has evocative b/w photography and a better pace.

Amazing Film

[jay4stein79-1 · 10/10 · 11 December 2005]

Farewell, My Lovely was for a long time the Holy Grail for me. I had heard about this film, heard how fantastic it is; as a tremendous fan of detective fiction and film noir, I was therefore dying to see it. Unfortunately, the DVD's been out of print for a couple years (since before I was aware of this movie's existence) and currently sells for outrageous prices on E-bay and Amazon. I'm surprised I'd not heard of Farewell until recently. I've seen Mitchum's turn as Marlowe in the Big Sleep (not as good as this film) and I adore him as an actor. I'm also quite fond of the Chandler novel upon which the movie is based (not quite as brilliant as The Big Sleep, but it tops pretty much every other novel Chandler wrote). All this should add up to me knowing this movie was out there. It did not. In any event, yesterday, I was roaming through the local video store - one of those big chains that has a lot of movies but no real winners - and I stumbled across a copy of Farewell (on DVD no less) whilst looking for another noir (After Dark, My Sweet is what I think it's called). I gladly slapped my $2 down for Farewell instead and ran home to watch it. It was well worth the money (but, because the transfer is awful and its in pan and scan format, not worth the $50 they want for a used copy on Amazon). Like Chinatown, released a year earlier, it has the look and feel of a late-40s detective film. The period detail is spot on and, had it not been for Charlotte Rampling, you would not seem insane for placing the movie's release date a decade or two earlier. Robert Mitchum, as Marlowe, amazes. As much as I love Hawks' the Big Sleep, Bogie never struck me as a Marlowe type. There's a hardness and angularity to his features that, for some reason, gives me pause. He simply doesn't strike me as Marlowe (he is, however, next to Mitchum in this movie the best filmed version of the man. Dick Powell is far too good looking and thin - Marlowe is a bulky man in my mind - and don't even get me started on Elliot Gould). Mitchum, with his oddly shaped head, jowls and labored, husky voice is perfect. The man is, as others have said, an icon and he brings all the Mitchum mythology with him to this role. It helps and makes the performance all the more surprising. What surprises is the softness that occasionally comes through his gruff, cynical exterior (tossing the ball with the kid, for example, or his treatment of Moose and Jessie). Here is a man who legitimately mourns the death of every character in this movie. This seems completely at odds with earlier portrayals of Marlowe (particularly Bogart's cold and eternally cynical performance), but it is a welcome change. The Marlowe of Farewell is, in fact, older and so why not softer as well? Mitchum's performance also flies in the face of the Mitchum-myth. Here, you will not find anything like the men he'd played in Cape Fear and Night of the Hunter. Through his movies and his real like escapades, Mitchum had made a name for himself as a b*****d. In Farewell, he is anything but, giving Marlowe a humanity and chivalric sense of duty present in the Chandler novels but generally absent from the filmed adaptations. The other performances are equally impressive. Rampling seems to channel Bacall from the Big Sleep in a limited but nevertheless effective performance, and Harry Dean Stanton, one of the greatest American actors, appears as a crooked cop. As I said, the period detail is incredible and the direction is unobtrusive. It's as solid a film noir as you're liable to find. If you have the opportunity, please watch it; you will not be disappointed.

Farewell, My Sweet

[kenjha · 7/10 · 20 September 2009]

In this remake of "Murder, My Sweet," private detective Philip Marlowe goes searching for a missing woman, but finds complications. As with the earlier film as well as "The Big Sleep," this one has terrific atmosphere, recreating the seedy parts of 1940s Los Angeles, but gets bogged down in an overly convoluted plot. Mitchum is wonderful as the cynical Marlowe, ready with a wise-crack for every situation. Mitchum's Marlowe is more world-weary than either Bogart's or Powell's, probably a result of the actor being more than a decade older than either when playing the role. Rampling, who often comes across as sullen, is rather alluring here in the role played by Claire Trevor in the earlier film.

A Truly Gorgeous, Vivid, Stylish Color Noir...Don't Prejudge it on 1940s Noir Terms!

[secondtake · 8/10 · 17 July 2009]

Farewell, My Lovely (1975)

A Truly Gorgeous, Vivid, Stylish Color Noir...Don't Prejudge it on 1940s Noir Terms!

This is a gorgeous surprise, a retreat forward, a 1940s drama not done in painful nostalgic pastel hues and soft edges, but in bold bright 1975 color and pitch dark shadow. You have to say the obvious and get it over with: yes, this is a modern "film noir." But it isn't a mere homage, nor a remake, nor a cheap imitation. Director Dick Richards, who has no other well known film to his credit, pulls a gem out of nowhere on this one. Just be sure to watch it for what it is, a dramatic period crime film, not for what you think it ought to be, a slavish remake of a classic noir. And he has the help of the perfect cinematographer for the subject, John A. Alonzo, who did both Chinatown (the year before) and eight years later, Scarface, both post-noir landmark crime films.

Of course, this version of Farewell, My Lovely is, strictly speaking, a remake, which is to say, it's the third movie based on Raymond Chandler's 1940 novel of the same name. And inevitably we are going to compare to the other great version, Dmytryk's 1944 true, early film noir (called Murder, My Sweet). I say other great version, because both are really fine films, and different enough to avoid copycatting. Farewell, My Lovely is actually the more original of the two, an irony after 31 years of influences. And in some ways it's better, mainly because it has Robert Mitchum very much in top form. He makes those beautifully concise and witty one liners seem real and fitting, as if people really did once talk like that. I wish they still did.

There are countless bit parts that pump up the stylishness of the movie, most memorably Sylvia Miles playing a hard-drinking has-been. And she and Mitchum have great chemistry, not as lovers, but as people from opposite sides of life who have a similar perspective on things, and they chat and resonate like old friends. (Compare this to the rougher, less involving scene in Murder, My Sweet.) Velma herself is none other than Charlotte Rampling, probably a hair miscast because Rampling has some kind of severity that the noirish femme fatales don't, as a stereotype, share. And this movie deals with stereotypes.

Mitchum above all. It's fascinating to see a movie that is meant to be fitting into a form well known enough to be able to both refer to (in style and plot) and to deviate from (so we can feel it's original intent). And to have Mitchum, with his decades of great, strong, roles, anchor it all makes for a sweet, almost poignant experience. A similar feeling might be had in the remake of Cape Fear, but for my money, this is the more interesting movie, whatever the limitations of the plot, and the big thug. Go ahead, compare the Dmytryk version to this Richards one. If you haven't seen either one, watch the more recent one first to give it a full chance. You might go away surprised.

"Find my Velma!"

[moonspinner55 · 6/10 · 30 June 2011]

Third film version of Raymond Chandler's novel (following 1942's "The Falcon Takes Over" and 1944's "Murder, My Sweet") has Robert Mitchum well-cast (if a bit slow-footed) as 1940s private detective Philip Marlowe, on the case of the missing girlfriend of a gangster who's just out of prison after six years. Director Dick Richards has a keen eye for minor details, though his pacing is a little stodgy (like Mitchum's) and he isn't helped by the flaccid editing. The picture looks and sounds terrific, due in large part to John A. Alonzo's cinematography and David Shire's Bernard Herrmann-esque music, but parts of the film are better than the whole. There's a great role here for newcomer Jack O'Halloran as the gorilla-like mobster who hires Marlowe, but Charlotte Rampling is a disappointing femme fatale and Sylvia Miles (despite netting an Oscar nomination) has a showy but shallow part as an aged ex-chorine now living in squalor. A side-trip to a seedy cathouse is confusing, and the plot is needlessly set into motion via flashback. Mitchum followed this with another Chandler/Marlowe remake, 1977's "The Big Sleep". **1/2 from ****

"Most authentic" -- Really?

[rick_lapin · 5/10 · 6 April 2014]

Saw this movie when it was released, and was delighted: It was good to see Marlowe back in period L.A., dressed properly and surrounded by the right cars after the noble (but failed) experiment two years before of the Altman/Gould "The Long Goodbye".

For me, though, it hasn't worn well; and I am particularly mystified by all the claims here that this version is somehow more "authentic" than the vastly more entertaining (it was Chandler's favorite Marlowe film) "Murder, My Sweet". When you have eliminated the Anne Riordan love- interest character in favor of a newsboy; combined quietly deadly psychic Jules Amthor with Dr. Sonderborg into a loud, crude, butch-gay whorehouse madam and set Marlowe's captivity in her joint instead of a private hospital, added an entire subplot surrounding a trumpet player and his family, and deleted Detective Randall, well ... I fail to see how that is any more "true-to-Chandler" than the changes in the Dick Powell version.

The film looks great, the music and period details are right, but there really isn't any "there" there: Mitchum's too old (although he always has and always will look better in a trench-coat than anyone in history), Charlotte Rampling's too willowy and silver-spoonish to have EVER been the Velma Valento of the novel; in general all the parts were better cast and acted in "Murder, My Sweet", and there is a leaden feel to a great deal of the film that Chandler certainlt didn't put there.

Only John Ireland's portrayal of cop-on-the-fence Nulty really grabbed me when I revisited my VHS copy last week -- it's not the Nulty of the book (more authenticity?), but Ireland is fully engaged from start to finish while Mitchum often dozes and Rampling simpers and pouts.

Do yourself a favor: First read "Farewell, My Lovely" (still a hard-boiled treat), then watch the Dick Powell and Robert Mitchum versions in any order you choose. (Extra Credit: get hold of James Garner's "Marlowe", a re- telling of Chandler's "The Little Sister" and add that to the mix ... )

I think you just might find that Powell & Company are truer to the actual rhythm and tone of a novel which dances (yes, that's the right word) edgily from light-footed hilarity to angst and back again with side trips into quick, tart social commentary; good as Mitchum occasionally is in this one, he (along with Bogart in "The Big Sleep") just ain't the often-puzzled-but-always-game dancer that was and is Philip Marlowe.

This version of "Farewell My Lovely" is selling nostalgia, not Chandler.

Down and Out of About Everywhere

[dougdoepke · 23 November 2008]

Stylish remake of the much-filmed Chandler classic. Was Mitchum too old for the role—that was the rap at the time. In hindsight, I don't think so, especially when he has that persuasive moment about aging near film's end. He certainly looks like he's climbed too many stairs and closed too many bars, but then that creates an unusual amount of pathos that deepens the role. Still and all, the passionate clinches with a sleek young Charlotte Rampling are borderline at best.

This is one of the few successful neo-noirs in my little book. Director Dick Richards and crew manage a funky look just right for the hard-boiled atmosphere of 40's detective fiction. Marlowe (Mitchum) drifts from one seedy venue to the next in his search for the mysterious Velma. But true to Chandler's slice-of-life LA, there's also a glimpse of the high- and-mighty in a Beverly Hills palace worthy of royalty. In fact, Marlowe resembles something of a pilgrim loner navigating greater LA in search of an elusive truth even after he's forgotten why.

Mitchum, of course, lowkeys all the way, hardly changing expression whether being roughed up by Moose Malloy or nuzzling up to Helen Grayle (Rampling). It has to be one of the more downbeat performances in private eye annals. But my Oscar goes to Sylvia Miles as the ultimate blowzy drunk (Florian). Her house is a mess, her hair is a mess, and her robe never quite fits in revealing ways Marlowe refuses to pick up on. Still and all, a fling with her looks more promising than an interlude with that plastic mannequin Marlowe does cozy up with. At the same time, Jack O'Halloran as the Moose comes across as the kind of pitiable dumb ox who would sacrifice everything for a faithless woman. In fact, the movie boils down oddly to something of a Samson and Delilah update.

But not everything is upside. The dialogue occasionally gets a little too cute, while the DiMaggio running thread seems forced at times. Nonetheless, it's a worthy version of the popular novel, and I'm just sorry that director Dick Richards hasn't been more active in the production end of the business. Judging from this film and the under-rated Culpepper Cattle Company, he certainly has the talent. And when an expressionless Marlowe comes to part with his money at movie's end, we finally glimpse that remote inner terrain and the heart of Chandler's heartless world.

"I didn't have to be a helluva actor"

[The_Movie_Cat · 6/10 · 13 August 2000]

WARNING: REVIEW CONTAINS SLIGHT SPOILERS

If a film buff were to select the ideal parameters for a "hardboiled" detective movie, then those requirements would doubtlessly include black and white noir loving splayed over Humphrey Bogart.

The role of Philip Marlowe (and whoever heard of a tough-guy called "Philip"?) has been played by eight actors (James Kirkwood, Dick Powell, Humphrey Bogart, George Montgomery, Robert Montgomery, James Garner, Elliot Gould and Mitchum) in cinema alone.

Robert Mitchum (best known for the films "Night of the Hunter", "Ryan's Daughter" and "Cape Fear") is the "dick" here, and was reasonably successful so as to warrant a sequel three years later. The fact that 1978's "The Big Sleep" was a remake of an accepted classic shouldn't have been a problem as they were over thirty years apart. The image of Michael Winner saying "I'm going to write and direct it" should have put the fear of God into someone, however. It's notable that while television series have since been erected around the character of Marlowe, there have been no film adaptations since Winner got his hands on it. More of a case of "Farewell, My Luvvie".

But back to Farewell, My Lovely, itself an update of 1934's "Murder, My Sweet". Mitchum gives us an aged, softened, disillusioned Marlowe who is in turns world-wearily engaging, other times just plain bored. For about 50% of the time he sounds like he's saying his lines reading from the script. The fact that he plays the role without irony means that some of the authentic Chandler lines ("This phone kept ringing... it was driving me nuts. I prayed someone would answer it... I didn't realise it was ringing inside my head") sound unintentionally funny. Also pure cheese is a hallucination scene where he's force-injected with drugs.

However, many of the performances are equally below par, so this may be the fault of the director, Dick Richards. Sylvester Stallone ironically appears in a non-speaking bit part, but was to go on to grander things the very next year. His burgeoning career from this point would eclipse Mitchum's dying one. Also rating high on the lame-o-meter is some big ugly bloke who looked the spitting image of "Jaws" from the James Bond movies but on closer inspection turns out to be "Non" from the brilliant Superman II. No wonder they didn't give him any lines in that one.

The most disconcerting element of the film is the concept: a 40s detective thriller made in the mid-seventies. It does have the same cinematographer as "Chinatown", so there's a connection, but even so it's a strange undertaking. It isn't bad, and the noir elements are built up by drowning out the colour. It's also updated, with mild bad language, some violence, and sexual tone. Whether it's a 15-year-old girl punching Mitchum in the scallops, Charlotte Rampling coming on to him, or shots of bare breasts in a brothel, this is certainly a few stages apart from the relatively-wholesome Bogart movies.

It is ultimately lacking, particularly in the incidental music side of things - the jazz pieces go well, though the sleazy saxophone at the beginning and end sounds too much like cliché. A great deal of the film goes by without music of any kind, and a rip-roaring finale is rendered flat by having the police raid a boat and go charging through it noiselessly. Their little feet go pitter-patter through a soundless boat in an "exciting" shoot-out finale. Any other director would have dubbed over heavier footsteps and a bit of incidental; Ronald Emmerich would probably have made their footsteps thunderstrikes and had the whole of the Welsh Coldstream Guard playing under them; but if you see this section of the film you'll know what I mean.

Another flaw is that Marlowe tells almost the entire movie in flashback. Therefore when we see him being beaten or shot at, there's no tension as we know he's still alive. There are no great weaknesses in the movie, nothing to say it's inordinately bad. Farewell, My Lovely is a good film, and I did award it a "6". The disappointment comes not from thinking it's a bad film, but that it could so easily have been a great one.

Who knew film noirs could be comedies?

[blackolig · 6/10 · 8 October 2018]

A tired and ragged looking Robert Mitchum puts on his fedora once more for another Philip Marlowe noir. However, it doesn't fit so well this time. His line readings span from from dreadfully boring to laugh-out-loud hysterical. Where is the actor from Out of the Past or The Night of the Hunter? Charlotte Rampling does her best Lauren Bacall impression with decent results. However, after Faye Dunaway's performance in Chinatown (a noir done right), a Bacall drag act seems tired and dated. Syliva Miles steals the few scenes she's in by not acting as if she was in a noir, and instead, just acting. Overall, I would watch this film for camp value, hence my 6 star rating (one comedy star for the drug sequence alone). It's certainly not terrible but after the 40th noir trope they pull out, you get tired. Not as tired as Mitchum, but still tired.

A pretty good version of the Chandler story

[cluciano63 · 7/10 · 1 August 2012]

I am a fan of Mitchum's acting, although I wish they had put him in a Chandler movie earlier in his career. He is kind of set into his image by the time this film was made; he had the cowboy down, and then the slightly seedy offbeat character like this one.

One funny thing I read in a bio on RM; the suit he wears in the film (the only costume he wears) is an original from the costume department from the 1940's and had Victor Buono's name in it; RM complained it stunk the whole time he was in it. Also the scene when he sings with Jessie (Sylvia Miles) the former saloon singer, was an ad-lib scene, the song chosen on the spot since he knew the words. They got the rights to use it cleared later.

I'm not quite sure if it was filmed in color, or if the version I saw this week was a colorized one; seems like it should have been done in black and white, and I was almost sure it was. It loses a lot of atmosphere in color, in any case.

In any case, it is a decent piece of entertainment with pretty good acting by all, though some of the characters seem to hardly be acting at all. Of course that is Robert Mitchum's style and claim to fame.

Robert Mitchum at his hard boiled best.

[smiley-39 · 8/10 · 27 September 1999]

This re-make of Raymond Chandler's work has the edge on the 1944 film. Robert Mitchum's face fits the film perfectly. His ageing hard boiled-looking features look like a relief map of the Rocky Mountains! In this movie Mitchum was as good he has ever been. He got better as he got older. What I also liked was the haunting but soulful musical score, at the beginning and at the end.

In the closing scene an atmosphere of rising crisis that seems to hang in the air; created by the soulful musical score. Marlow with the case all wrapped up and himself at a loose end; in the amusement centre playing the machines, picks up a discarded newspaper with "Tokyo" in bold print as the front page headline. Was this the late hours of the 6th of December in Los Angeles? A sailor and his girl, and a soldier in the background makes it seem so. Both the sailor and the soldier, and the whole of America blissfully unaware, that a Japanese armada has shaped a easterly course

across the North Pacific. That scene coupled with the soulful musical score is like a forlorn-sounding and doom-laden overture to what is about to happen with surprising and devastating suddenness on the following but quiet Sunday morning in Hawaii. It is not surprising that one of the songs is titled, "Sunday".

Farewell, Integrity

[writers_reign · 6/10 · 30 October 2009]

If chuzpah were an Olympic Event David Zelag Goodman and Dick Richards would take Gold going away. For reasons best known to themselves this pair of mediocrities decided they could improve Raymond Chandler by taking liberties with his novel that was already close to perfection. They get it wrong right from the start: we open towards the end of an ongoing investigation into what turns out to be two linked cases. By opening at this point Marlowe is obliged to tell Lieutenant Nulty stuff he already knows - Chandler told his story chronologically - such as how he encountered Moose Malloy whilst rounding off another case and even more ludicrously he has to tell Nulty (because he needs to tell US, the audience) who one of the most prominent citizens in LA is. This is sloppy writing whichever way you slice it. Not content with that they transform Jules Amthor - a 'mystic/clairvoyant' in the novel - into a notorious madam, thus changing both the sex and calling. They omit entirely one of the strongest characters in the novel, the cop's daughter who finds Marlowe after he's been sapped and Marriott has been killed. In the novel the girl lived close to the isolated location, chosen for that reason by blackmailers to exchange cash for jade; as it stands in this movie, Marlowe is now found by a patrol car which had no logical reason to be in the middle of East Jesus in the middle of the night. In the novel it is Jesse Florian who gives Marlowe the wrong photo in order to mislead him; here, for no real reason, Goodman more or less invents a whole new character, complete with family to do it. I could go on but what's the point. Mitchum is a fine actor and one I admire enormously but he's a little to coarse for Marlowe as re-written by Goodman and Richards. Chandler created for want of a better word, a gentleman detective; the clue is in the name he chose, a name resonant of the playwright Christopher Marlowe (Chandler was educated at an English Public School, Dulwich) who wrote 'Is this the face that launched a thousand ships, and burned the topless towers of Ilium, sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss', and Chandler's Marlowe is more inclined to speak in street poetry than say things like 'that's a lot of s***' that Goodman puts in his mouth. On balance the Dick Powell version was light years ahead.

Classic gumshoe film noir

[DennisLittrell · 8/10 · 18 April 2005]

(Note: Over 500 of my movie reviews are now available in my book "Cut to the Chaise Lounge or I Can't Believe I Swallowed the Remote!" Get it at Amazon.)

The year is 1941 and Joltin' Joe DiMaggio is on a hitting streak, and that is about the only thing in life that world-weary Philip Marlowe takes any pleasure in.

This is a workman-like adaptation of the novel by Raymond Chandler. Dimple-chinned Robert Mitchum at 58, an underrated actor with charisma and star appeal, is unfortunately a bit over the hill as Chandler's hard-nosed, realist gumshoe Philip Marlowe, especially when romancing the babes. Still he does a good job and seems almost made for the part.

The main babe that needs romancing here is Charlotte Rampling who plays Helen Grayle, a scheming, trampy, psychopathic, sexy thing on the make for anything she can get. She's the lovely who goes farewell--well, one of them.

Sylvia Miles got a supporting actress Oscar nomination for her portrayal of Mrs. Florian, one-time show girl turned lush. And Sylvester Stallone, looking almost as young as a choir boy, had a bit part as an anonymous thug. Jack O'Halloran played the very dense and obsessed Moose Malloy with a steady moronic malevolence. John Ireland is the good cop and Harry Dean Stanton the bad one. Kate Murtagh is the madam from hell who likes to throw her considerable weight around.

Comparing this to the original from 1944 entitled "Murder, My Sweet," staring Dick Powell and Claire Trevor, I have to say it is more realistic and edgier, and wonderfully atmospheric, but not as enjoyable, perhaps because Mitchum seems a little dead compared to Powell. But that is entirely the point, as Chandler's intent was to showcase a Philip Marlowe near the end of his tether, a man oppressed with the vileness of life and ready to toss it in.

In either case, the convoluted plot involving the missing "Velma," various Los Angeles dives, dead bodies aplenty, and lots of police and political corruption remains somewhat opaque but still manages to hold our interest.

See this for Robert Mitchum, one of Hollywood's greatest with over a hundred and thirty films to his credit, a man who personified nonchalance on the screen, a guy who felt equally at home in a "B" Western as in a dramatic feature, a man who mesmerized audiences with seeming indifference.

Confusing

[Pinouchipop · 7/10 · 17 August 2021]

I have read A LOT of noir crime novels. But although Chandler is a major figure and among the first to write what was at the root of the genre, I never liked his stories. After trying two of his most praised books, I trew in the towel.

Since I had noticed that I could really enjoy some novels I was unable to read - the writing, dialogues, or something else like the atmosphere - in some adaptations for the screen, I gave this one a chance.

The acting is great, Mitchum feels authentic as Philip Marlowe; Charlotte Rampling is both beautiful and very good; the Madam is larger than life as well as "Mountain Man King Kong".

The indeed are in 1940's America, it is undeniable and very good.

But I can't fathom the plot - where is this going exactly? What am I supposed to have understood already, when yet another chatacter is killed, which is linked to a previous one and relates - well it seems so - to that other one who is linked to that previous one... But how exactly? Uh... What just happened and what does it mean?

Duh...

Although there is a lot of good...acting, decors, filming... I feel annoyed by the fact I wonder if I am dumb for being so confused...

I guess I PROBABLY just don't like Chandler. I can't find a string to follow!

This is one of these movies you persist watching, thinking : "It will be clear soon".... But it is not.

There are still 45 minutes to watch when I throw in the towel. I've had enough.

I could go on watching just for the good acting. And too bad if I still don't get it in the end... Like watching a beautiful landscape.

But would you?...

Robert Mitchum excels as Marlowe in this excellent 70's noir gem

[Woodyanders · 9/10 · 6 June 2016]

Aging and world-weary private eye Phillip Marlowe (superbly played by Robert Mitchum) gets hired by hulking brute Moose Malloy (a credible portrayal by Jack O'Halloran) to find his missing girlfriend Velma. However, this deceptively simple case ultimately proves to be a lot more complicated than anticipated.

Director Dick Richards, working from a sharp script by David Zelag Goodman, keeps the intricate and absorbing story moving at a steady pace, offers a flavorsome evocation of the 1940's period Los Angeles setting, and astutely captures an arrestingly sordid and downbeat tone without going overboard on the sleaziness. Better still, Richards avoids sentimental nostalgia by refusing to sugarcoat the more harsh social realities of the 1940's, with the issue of racism in particular being addressed head on.

Mitchum brings a winning blend of dry wit, rumbled grace, and bruised integrity to the character of Marlowe, who yearns to find something worth saving in a rotten world. The rest of the topflight cast are likewise on the money excellent: Charlotte Rampling makes for a deliciously sly and seductive femme fatale as the enticing, yet duplicitous Helen Grayle, Sylvia Miles contributes a heartbreaking turn as booze-sodden rundown floozy Jessie Halstead Fabian, and Anthony Zerbe cuts a suavely sinister figure as slimy mobster Laird Brunette, plus there's praiseworthy work from John Ireland as the hard-nosed Detective Lieutenant McNulty, Harry Dean Stanton as crooked low-rent scuzzball Detective Billy Rolfe, John O'Leary as the effeminate Lindsay Marriott, Kate Murtagh as formidable brothel madam Frances Amthor, and Joe Spinell, Burton Gilliam, and Sylvester Stallone as a trio of vicious thugs. In addition, such folks as Richard Kennedy, Harry Caesar, Logan Ramsey, and Cheryl "Rainbeaux" Smith pop up in small roles. John A. Alonzo's sumptuous cinematography gives this picture a glittery neon look. David Shire's lush score hits the smooth jazzy spot. Essential viewing.

A 70s Noir

[evanston_dad · 7/10 · 27 January 2021]

Director Dick Richards has another go at the Raymond Chandler story that had already been filmed in 1944 under the better title "Murder, My Sweet." Dick Powell played gumshoe Philip Marlowe in that one, while Robert Mitchum gets that honor here. While I think shot for shot I prefer the 1944 version (it's dripping with noir style and atmosphere), when it comes to the leading man, there's just no comparison. Mitchum was practically born to play roles like this.

Because this came out in 1975, "Farewell My Lovely" is a much less euphemistic version of Chandler's sordid story, and the film does a pretty good job of establishing a sleazy style of its own, much of it copped from "Chinatown," the classic that had come out the year before. Where this movie stumbles is in the casting of Charlotte Rampling as the femme fatale, especially considering that Claire Trevor played the role as a hotsy-totsy piece of something in the 1944 version. Rampling is a drip in the role, and she's not as sexy as the film needs her to be. She has relatively little screen time though, so it's not a huge detriment to the film. Mitchum picks up the slack, and he's helped by John Ireland in the role of police chief.

"Farewell My Lovely" earned a spot in film trivia annals when Sylvia Miles, in a brief role as a boozy informant, received a Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination. Miles made a bit of a specialty out of getting Oscar nominated for tiny roles. She had done the same thing in "Midnight Cowboy" six years earlier.

Grade: A-

Mitchum was too old

[theking-51286 · 1/10 · 19 May 2022]

By 1975 Mitchum was far too old and fat to play Philip Marlowe. The film is dreary and boring, and eliminating the Ann character makes it too obvious who "Velma" is. The 1944 classic with Dick Powell is much better in every way.