Marlowe (2022)

After a long and downward spiral as an action hero, Liam Neeson seemed to have made a good choice with a role as Chandler detective Philip Marlowe, to be directed by Oscar winner Neil Jordan ('The Crying Game'). I have an in-depth knowledge of Neil Jordan's career, which I followed closely for many years through my job as a cinema translator. I was excited by 'The Company of Wolves' and 'Mona Lisa' and disheartened by his botched ghost comedy 'High Spirits', but then he made a successful hat-trick comeback with 'The Crying Game', 'Interview with the Vampire' and 'Michael Collins' before disappearing off the radar for a number of years and only occasionally hitting the mark. However, I was reasonably satisfied with his latest two films, "Byzantium" and "Greta" and looking forward to "Marlowe" as a Jordan, crime and noir fan. Unfortunately, I am disappointed.

Set in 1939, the movie begins, of course, with a femme fatale walking into Marlowe's L.A. office. Clare Cavendish (Diane Kruger) is a wealthy married woman who needs help finding her lover. He's missing, she says, but it soon turns out that the man was killed by a hit-and-run driver. However, the client claims it's a lie and that he's still alive.

The screenplay, that isn't based on one of Chandler's original stories, but on a 2014 pastiche, "The Black-eyed Blonde" is, as expected, a compilation of all the clichés of the genre (Mexican gangsters, drug trafficking, prostitution, as well as corrupt politicians, policemen and movie executives), but the dialog, which is so important for character development, is made up of disjointed, cryptic ambiguities that slow down the plot, being simple enough but constantly chopped to pieces by irrelevancies. The movie comes across as a cavalcade of lengthy scenes where everyone is talking past each other.

The only thing that really works is the set design, which is a feast for the eyes. The movie's sumptuous depiction of 1939 Los Angeles and Hollywood is more than enough reason to hang in there until the bitter (and unexpectedly tepid) end.

Although Neeson is an obvious choice, he rarely comes close to the half-dozen predecessors who have played Marlowe, including Bogart, Mitchum, Gould and my personal favorite, Powers Boothe, who brought the cynical loner to life on TV in the eighties.