The Many Philip Marlowes

From 1944 to 1978, one of the best known fictional detectives, Philip Marlowe, created by author Raymond Chandler, appeared in many films and was played by nearly as many actors. Eight films and seven actors.

In the previous blog, I mentioned how Humphrey Bogart’s Philip Marlowe in The Big Sleep (1946) contrasted sharply with the next Marlowe manifestation in the form of Robert Montgomery in Lady in the Lake (1947). There was one previous manifestation of the ultimate hard-boiled detective: Dick Powell in Murder, My Sweet (1944).

On the heels of Lady in the Lake, another Marlowe movie, probably the most obscure, appeared starring the largely forgotten George Montgomery called The Brasher Doubloon (1947). The original Chandler novel was The High Window. Changing the title also occurred with Farewell, My Lovely, which became Murder, My Sweet. Even more obscure is an earlier adaptation of The High Window called Time to Kill (1942). However, the detective’s name was changed to Michael Shayne, played by Lloyd Nolan, thus not qualifying for “Marlowe” status.

Marlowe emerged cinematically during the period of film history when Film Noir dominated attention. He was an essential part of this crime genre. First, he’s a cynical, worldly man who gets involved in messy, dangerous cases of personal and public moral corruption while maintaining his own integrity. He’s a civilian knight of sorts who can be attracted to deadly women but, unlike other noir heroes, is able to resist them. Yet, he gets his share of beatings once he enters the labyrinthine mysteries of the plots.

The Marlowe actors are impressive and define the individual adaptations of Chandler’s books. For moviegoers (and not so much Chandler), Humphrey Bogart represents the definitive Marlowe characterization. He came to the role having already played Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon (1941), and it wouldn’t be surprising if audiences confused the roles to be the same detective. Whereas Dick Powell was cast against type, best known for musicals and light comedies. Indeed, the title was changed to Murder, My Sweet because audiences thought "Farewell, My Lovely" was another Powell musical. Powell also stuck with stronger dramatic roles in movies like Cornered (1945), Johnny O’Clock (1947), and Pitfall (1948). His Marlowe was also strongly approved by Raymond Chandler.

I remember seeing Murder, My Sweet in my teens and remembered it for the sequence when a gun is fired before Marlowe’s face, the flash blinding him temporarily. Prior to this, he was taken blindfolded to a criminal hideout. The police later ask him to remember the ride, and through the sounds of going over a bridge and railroad tracks he makes it back to finish the job.  His being taken captive and nearly killed resembles a scene in The Big Sleep when Bogart traces his quarry to a garage outside of the city. He’s tied up and soon to be executed but is able to convince Lauren Bacall to untie him.

Robert Mitchum might have been a great choice to play Marlowe in the mid to late 1940s.  His trial and incarceration for smoking marijuana, however, ruined any chance of this happening. Fortunately, he was cast later, in his mid-fifties, to play the part. At this point, Mitchum's face had layers of the effects of hard living that made his Marlowe in Farewell, My Lovely (1975), the equal to Bogart’s. Whether the film is better than Murder, My Sweet or The Big Sleep is a question for another day. I’ve always felt that Powell’s and Robert Montgomery’s Marlowes had a forced hardness added to their dialogue because their faces and demeanors did not convince us that they were really like that.

Mitchum goes head to head against Bogart in a remake of The Big Sleep (1978) but Mitchum’s Marlowe seems drowsier, too laid back. The setting is switched from Los Angeles to London. The same characters come and go. The plot is complex but does not match the bewildering 1946 version, about which director Howard Hawks and his writers (Leigh Brackett and William Faulkner) claimed not to know definitely who killed whom. The 1978 film is closer to the Chandler novel and, thus, I was surprised to see that Eddie Mars (Oliver Reed) does not die at the end nor does Marlowe end up with General Sternwood’s daughter (Sarah Miles). I guess the producers of the first Big Sleep had to go with the flow and get Bogart together with Bacall, which entailed an additional shoot out to kill Eddie Mars (John Ridgely). The most enjoyable part of the remake is Richard Boone playing a vicious killer, Lash Canino.

The Chandler revival of the Seventies began with Marlowe (1969) starring James Garner, taken from Chandler’s fifth novel. The Little Sister. Garner is a pleasant, amiable actor, best known for two television roles in Maverick and The Rockford Files. The latter show is hard to get out of your mind when watching Garner playing a detective in Marlowe. Indeed, the film bears more the production values of television, as well as the casting choices: Carroll O’Connor (“Archie Bunker”), Jackie Coogan (“Uncle Fester”), William Daniels (“Mr. Feeny”), and Kenneth Tobey (The Whirlybirds). Standing out, though, is Bruce Lee in his only role that he played a villain. And he pays for it. He uses his kung fu tactics to intimidate Marlowe, but when he is about to deliver a coup de grace on a fire escape, he launches himself but Marlowe ducks and Lee plummets fifteen stories to his death. Finally, the film was directed by Paul Bogart (no relation), who primarily worked in television.

The strangest, if not the most interesting, of all the Marlowe movies is The Long Goodbye (1973) with Elliot Gould. Despite being written by Leigh Brackett, who co-authored Bogart’s Marlowe, the film is pure Robert Altman. Gould chain smokes non-filtered cigarettes, trades barbs with the police, gets beaten and has his life threatened, is loyal to his friends to a fault. All fit the Marlowe resume but nothing about his character resembles any of the other Marlowes.

Altman deliberately undercuts the crime/mystery genre, starting with the first scene when Marlowe tries to feed his finicky cat. Also, Gould constantly repeats the phrase: “That’s okay with me”, which might fit the laid back 1970s but it isn’t a mantra for the hard-boiled detective. Unlike Bogart and Mitchum, he has no friends in the police department. In fact, the police spend more time trying to jail Gould’s Marlowe than finding the actual murderer. 

Finally, here’s a list of Marlowes appearing on television from 1950 to 2007: Zachary Scott, Philip Carey, Edward Judd, Powers Boothe, James Caan, and Jason O’Mara.