James Hitchcock Raymond Chandler's 1940 novel "Farewell, My Lovely" has been filmed three times. The first version (from 1942) was "The Falcon Takes Over" which adapted Chandler's plot, relocated the action from Los Angeles to New York and replaced Chandler's hero Philip Marlowe with the figure of The Falcon, a gentlemanly British detective (originally created by Michael Arlen) who became the hero of a long-running series of forties B-movies. This film from 1944 was released as "Farewell, My Lovely" in the United Kingdom, but in America it is known as "Murder, My Sweet", apparently because Dick Powell had previously been better known as the star of light-hearted musicals and the studio wanted to ensure that audiences knew they would be seeing a crime drama, not a comedy. When the remake starring Robert Mitchum was made in 1975 it was released under Chandler's original title worldwide.I will refer to this film by its British title, largely because that is the one with which I am most familiar. Like most films noirs it has a particularly complex plot. It opens with Marlowe being interrogated by police about two murders, and this interrogation serves as a framework, with the story being told in flashback. We learn how Marlowe accepted two sets of apparently routine instructions which landed him in trouble. Moose Malloy, a former wrestler recently released from jail, hired him to trace his old girlfriend Velma, and he was also hired to act as bodyguard to a man paying a ransom for some stolen jewels. Marlowe finds himself caught up in a web of intrigue involving the owner of the jewels, her husband and stepdaughter, Malloy, and a sinister psychic healer.The term "film noir", literally "black film", has a double, perhaps triple, meaning. Such films were figuratively "dark" because of the "dark deeds" which make up their plots, and perhaps also in the sense that these plots are often obscure and mysterious. They were, however, also "dark" in a literal sense, because they generally included striking chiaroscuro photography, often involving scenes shot at night. Here Edward Dmytryk goes even takes this tendency to extremes, shooting almost the whole of the movie at night with virtually no daytime scenes. Later crime dramas set in the Los Angeles area, such as Polanski's "Chinatown", have emphasised the brilliant Southern California sunshine, but here the City of Angels becomes a City of Dreadful Night, with Dmytryk using (as did other noir directors such as Hawks, John Huston, Billy Wilder, Sam Fuller and Carol Reed) physical darkness as a visual metaphor for both impenetrable mystery and moral depravity.Powell's performance as Marlowe has been the subject of some controversy, coming in for both praise and criticism. My view is that he is not at all bad, considering that he had had little previous experience of this sort of film, but even so he is not really in the same class as Humphrey Bogart who was to play Marlowe in Howard Hawks's "The Big Sleep" from two years later. The best performance here is probably from Claire Trevor, something of a noir specialist, as Helen Grayle, the owner of the jewels and the glamorous second wife of a wealthy, much older man. (The jewels are the story's "McGuffin". Did Chandler, I wonder, use the name "Grayle" as a deliberate reference to the Holy Grail, perhaps the most famous McGuffin in literary history?) Mike Mazurki is also good as Moose, a man with overdeveloped muscles and an underdeveloped intellect who nevertheless retains a certain rough integrity.This film is certainly a lot better than "The Falcon Takes Over", in which George Sanders is far too laid back and insouciant, even when serious matters like murder are at stake. (Chandler's story, in any case, was not really suitable for B-movie treatment). I am unable make comparisons with the Mitchum "Farewell, My Lovely", which I have never seen. As for "The Big Sleep", Dmytryk is able to maintain the tension as well as does Hawks, and the writing is better here than in the later film, one which we tend to watch more for its atmosphere than for its plot, which is impenetrable even by noir standards. The plot of "Farewell, My Lovely" may be complex, but it never becomes incomprehensible. Although I prefer Bogart to Powell, I nevertheless think that this version of "Farewell, My Lovely" can stand comparison with "The Big Sleep". 8/10

poe426 In terms of craftsmanship, it's hard to beat MURDER, MY SWEET: it's tight in every respect, from beginning to end. It also boasts some truly outstanding cinematography, with some of the most unique shots you're ever likely to see: Dick Powell as Marlowe, sitting at his desk, looking at his own reflection in the window, while behind him appears the man-mountain, Mike Mazurki. It's effectively a three-shot, with two clearly visible faces and the back of Powell's head. Mazurki is one of the most intimidating presences to ever lurk nearby in a film noir: he literally hauls Powell off his feet as he tries to convince him to help him keep tabs on a crooked dame. It's like a big kid, unaware of his own strength, manhandling a smaller kid. Powell's narration is priceless: "A black pool opened up under my feet. I dove in." That's Raymond Chandler, of course, but the line (delivered at least twice in the movie, if memory serves) is delivered perfectly, almost matter-of-factly, by Powell. One of the great films noir. (There's also a memorable sequence wherein Marlowe is kidnapped and force-fed drugs; his torment makes what Ray Milland goes through in THE LOST WEEKEND look like a walk in the park. This idea would be used decades later in THE FRENCH CONNECTION II, but II isn't quite as good as MURDER, MY SWEET.)

secondtake Murder, My Sweet (1944)One of the classic film noirs. And with all the trademarks of style, story, and character. On top of that, it's really good! I can watch any low grade bad film noir and like it, but this one is for everyone. Fast, crazy, dramatic, beautiful. And with such sparkling "noir" dialog you want to see it twice. In a row.The premise here is that a jade necklace has gone missing and a man hires detective Philip Marlowe to be bodyguard when he goes to buy it back. Things go wrong, but lucky for Marlowe he is now on the inside of a duplicitous bunch of thugs, many of them part of one family. It gets confusing if you don't listen closely and don't get the noir slang, but you realize you don't totally need to follow every nuance of the plot. It's also largely about style, about how this is all told and played out for the cameras.There are a handful of formative early film noirs going back to "The Maltese Falcon" which has some echoes to this one. Most are based on detective stories like this one by Raymond Chandler. Like most mystery or detective fiction, there is a formula at work, a huge dependency on one main character and his point of view, and a slightly contrived plot without deep emotional stakes. Later noirs can get more personal and involving emotionally (like "Out of the Past" or even the 1945 "Mildred Pierce") but the point of view of the protagonist is still important because it's from a lonely position as the world swirls around. The detective was a perfect starting point for this genre--detectives work alone, after all, and see things the rest of us never dream of.So Marlowe gets taken for quite a ride. Dick Powell is terrific in the role. He's no Bogart or Mitchum, and he's no looker (no Dana Andrews). And so he becomes a really regular guy, someone you can relate to. He's tough and savvy and he has a great sense of humor in his interior monologues (another feature of noirs, used heavily here). And when he's abused you feel less like it's a Hollywood star up there but just a character. It works well.There are some really inventive visual things happening. The first happens several times, with black inky pools taking over the screen when he gets knocked out. But there are other distortions, and a fabulous (if technically simple) hallucination sequence that surely had some small influence on Hitchcock in making "Vertigo." When you finally get to the end of this whole up and down adventure you've been a lot of places quickly. It's quite a movie.Don't expect normal realism. The movie is stylized and made to be illustrative, even as it gets gritty and real. The whole situation is a bit improbable, but forget likelihood. Go for the ride yourself. Get into the dialog (which is as classic as it gets). And watch it. Or watch it twice.Oh, and if you want a treat, check out the weird and actually terrific remake, hard to find on DVD, with Robert Mitchum in rich "noir" color called "Farewell, My Lovely." With Charlotte Rampling, no less.

RResende Chandler is a tricky guy, because he always builds his stories in a deceiving way. He creates a simple thread, which at first you can very easily follow. Something about looking for some girl missing, or some old coin, or find some blackmailer. This we start doing always with the detective, usually Marlowe, as our surrogate. We know what he knows, from the facts that get to him, to his thoughts - easily transpired in the books, but many times tawdry represented in films, as off voice. But every time, the unfolding of the initially simple investigation becomes filled with contradictory events, an incredible amount of new characters, and endless possibilities for explanation of the story. We get lost. So does Marlowe. And that's the point. We find ourselves suddenly pushed around, by everybody, all our mental mechanisms of understanding the story betrayed at every moment. We fall into the black hole, like Marlowe when he gets hit in the head. As if we experienced the hallucinogenic effect of the drugs that take Marlowe's notion of time and space away.This is truly powerful writing, when you think of the concept. Not great literature in the specific qualities of literature as art, but very good narrative concept. These detective stories are never about exactly how everything happen. In the end the explanation is so complicated that it becomes impossible to make credible, or so simple that it lacks interest. This is no Agatha Christie, where the intellectual mechanics of the story is what drives you to go with it. Here what matters is the world in which the story takes place, the rules of the universe where the characters live. These are literary characters, living in a literary world of their own, with very specific rules.When you bring this powerful concepts, and mix them with film, than you have something really worthy. That's what happened when filmmakers working in Hollywood, supported by visual ideas developed in Germany 10 years before, started to use this otherwise minor literature. In 1941 we had the Maltese Falcon, the first truly developed noir film, in this narrative sense. This means that when we get to this film, 3 years later, the genre is still developing, but already totally in inscribed in the mind of the viewer. This film understands what this is all about. It is competent in how it is able to cast us into the chaos of an unexplainable world. Marlowe is a pawn, from the beginning, when he finds Moose inside his office without being able to put him out or refuse his request. Actually I find it interesting how this Marlowe is much more vulnerable to the pushing around by every character than Bogart's typical Marlowe. I suppose without Bogart on the boat, the writers were able to take liberties with the character. What we have here is not the character of Chandler's books, but it's interesting to see Marlowe as a poor manipulated fellow, permanently on the edge.The problem is actually the actor. It is very rare for me to be put off by a poor performance, but in a film like this, with the central role of the detective as our surrogate in the narrative, if the actor fails so deeply as Powell failed here, the film is seriously damaged. Bogart was always limited as an actor, but at least he had enough self-awareness to project his own unique character and carry the film with it. Not Powell, all those facial gimmicks, denounced expressions. The director doesn't help, the editing is not fair for the actors (specially the men), but that's no excuse for all the distracting elements of Powell's performance. And Anne Shirley shines much more brightly than Claire Trevor. Hard to believe the man would ignore the first one to become bewitched by the other one.My opinion: 3/5