Marlowe
Directed by Neil Jordan
Written by William Monahan
Starring: Liam Neeson, Diane Kruger, Jessica Lange, Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje, and Alan Cumming
Rated R
Runtime: 110 minutes
In theaters February 15

by Tessa Swehla, Staff Writer

Philip Marlowe is one of the few characters who looms large in both literary and film traditions. He and Sam Spade, both creations of pulp novel master Raymond Chandler, are the archetypes for the private detectives of ‘30s and ‘40s noir. Marlowe appeared in seven of Chandler’s novels as well as ten films and numerous TV and radio shows. I was, as many people were, introduced to the cynical, alcoholic, chain-smoking ex-cop through Humphrey Bogart’s performance in The Big Sleep (1944), but many actors–including Elliot Gould, Dick Powell, Robert Montgomery, James Garner, and Robert Mitchum–have taken their turns bringing the character to the screen.

It was only a matter of time before he made his reappearance in film, this time played by Liam Neeson in Neil Jordan’s Marlowe (2022). Adapted from the authorized sequel The Black Eyed Blonde written by Benjamin Black (the pen name of John Banville), the film reintroduces us to Marlowe as an older, more weathered PI, trying to make a living in LA at the beginning of the second World War after being fired from the LAPD for “insubordination.” The film begins as almost every PI noir begins: Marlowe is hired by the seductive and married Clare Cavendish (Diane Kruger) to find her missing lover. As he pursues the case, however, he quickly realizes that Clare is manipulating him into a plot filled with aging actresses, corrupt studio executives, gangsters, and drug traffickers.

Jordan’s vision for this film is a painstakingly accurate pastiche of the ‘40s noir film; to his credit, the film has all the textbook noir tropes. There is a client who isn’t everything she appears to be. There is also a seedy LA underground that Marlowe has to untangle to find out the truth of the case. Marlowe makes decisions based on his own personal code of ethics rather than the law, a classic noir anti-hero characterization that hurts him and his career as often as it helps him. There is even an extra femme fatale (Jessica Lange as Dorothy Cavendish) in case one wasn’t enough! The plot is nearly incomprehensible, but classic noir has always been more interested in vibes and visuals than in what actually happens (see the plot of The Big Sleep, which quickly falls apart when examined too closely). Jordan also pays attention to the smallest details of LA noir aesthetic: the title credits have that overlarge, brightly sensational font, the soundtrack is packed with nightclub music, and the Barcelona hills where they shot most of the film are a dead ringer for Laurel Canyon. The only main departure is that the film is in color, a choice that Jordan claims was an homage to Blade Runner (1982), despite the film looking nothing like the neo-noir cyberpunk classic.

In fact, the film is perhaps too obsessed with a paint-by-numbers recreation of the Marlowe story without the aesthetic or substance that makes classic noir so memorable. Directors like Howard Hawks (The Big Sleep), Edward Dmytryk (Murder My Sweet), or John Huston (The Maltese Falcon) allowed their viewers to steep in an almost surreal LA landscape. They used stark lighting and new camera angles to create interior tension, isolation, conflict, and fear–both in the characters and in the viewers. None of that exists in this film. The film trades visceral visuals for conventional action framing, albeit with very little action.

The titular character seems lost in this adaptation as well. Neeson’s performance is wooden and opaque, the opposite of Marlowe, who has a rough sort of charm that belies his cynical attitude and bad habits. There is nothing complex about this Marlowe: in fact, this film seems to rely much more on the audience’s prior experiences with Marlowe than on establishing this version of the character in his own right. “Look,” the film seems to say, “We all know who Marlowe is, right? No further explanation necessary.” There is no interiority, no ability to decipher his motives or emotions.

Other characters are underserved as well, surprising considering how many excellent and seasoned actors are here. Kruger and Lange seem perfect for a femme fatale mother-daughter duo, but their motivations are a bit unclear; we aren’t given enough time with them to understand their relationship. They have a single scene together near the end of the film. There is no chemistry between Kruger and Neeson, despite their illicit flirtations. Colm Meaney and Adewale Akinnuoye-Agbaje have also had memorable turns in their TV careers but are not allowed in this film to transcend their respective tropes of Irish cop and sidekick. Affect seems more important than acting here. The only really memorable performance in this is Alan Cumming’s two-scene turn as the delightfully weird crime boss Lou Henrick, who gleefully makes threats using Strunk’s Elements of Style.

There is also just nothing new to say in this film, unlike previous Marlowe features that had a lot to say about anti-heroes, legality versus morality, cynicism, vulnerability, and the fragility of human connection in a world where everyone wants something. The only interesting idea introduced is the Irish American lens brought to the character and to L.A. by Black’s novel and (I assume) William Monahan’s script. Considering the origin of the private investigator and the role of the Irish in police forces in the US during the early to mid-twentieth century, this could have been an interesting new facet of Marlowe to explore, but it quickly becomes lost in the noise. As with Marlowe, the film expects us to see Irish actors and infer their significance rather than integrating those themes into the film.

Marlowe ultimately falls short of both its intended goal as a period genre homage and its continuation of this legacy character’s story, despite its top-tier cast, writer, and director. More cosplay than storytelling, the film is a faint echo of that which it imitates.