Film Review - Marlowe
Images courtesy of Madman Films.
“You’re very perceptive and sensitive, Mr. Marlowe”, Liam Neeson is told in Marlowe, releasing in Australian cinemas on May 18th. That’s dubious. It feels like the film trying to convince us of something we know is a pretty tough sell, in a metaphor for the very idea of the project as a whole: in 2023, this is a played-straight 1930’s noir reviving a character with multiple already-revered onscreen iterations. Neeson’s take on Phillip Marlowe, the hard-boiled detective created by Raymond Chandler, was always destined to be compared to those of greats like Humphrey Bogart and Elliot Gould (and even at one point James Caan). Late-career Neeson, in what is his 100th film, doesn’t quite have the verve to make his take particularly memorable or dynamic.
It doesn’t help that the film itself isn’t even derived from Chandler’s work, but rather a 2014 novel channeling him through its use of the Phillip Marlowe character: Irish novelist John Banville’s The Black-Eyed Blonde (published under the nom de plume Benjamin Black). This story, in an admittedly spot-on mimicry of one of Chandler’s Marlowe mysteries, finds its eponymous private detective in 1939, taking a case from a very femme-fatale-y heiress (Diane Kruger): tracking down her lover, who may or may not be dead. Embroiled in the case is an exclusive luxury club, a film studio, drug runners from Tijuana, and a host of great characters in fun little high-charisma roles (standouts are Danny Huston, and the delicious Southern drawl affected by Alan Cumming).
Notably, a film like this probably doesn’t get made in today’s climate without a star like Liam Neeson attached. What that does mean, though, is that rather than him adapting to the needs of the film, the whole thing bends to him. Characters repeatedly remark upon this version of Phillip Marlowe’s large stature (Neeson is, also, wearing some extremely wide pants), and Marlowe himself talks fondly of James Joyce and his time in the Royal Irish Rifles. It’s like they added “big” and “Irish” to a fridge-magnet list of existing character traits they needed to give Marlowe, and called it a day. There’s also something very Taken (or The Commuter, or Cold Pursuit, or Blacklight, or Non-Stop…) to the way we watch Neeson beating up hired goons, like any other of his aging action heroes.
Most eyebrow-raising of all, of course, is the fact that the film shot its internal scenes in Dublin, presumably for Neeson’s convenience. Wisely, the exteriors were done in Barcelona, which stands a better chance at resembling 1930s L.A. than the gloomy Irish capital, but the pervasive general Irishness of the film (which even extends to its director, Neil Jordan) rears its head at multiple unexpected moments.
One last amusing consequence is that Neeson’s gravelly Irish-inflected voice, combined with Huston’s guttural muttering and (Irishman!) Colm Meaney’s low growl as a policeman, adds up to a film in which certain scenes of dialogue - hilariously - lose all comprehensibility whatsoever.
That said, this is a competent enough throwback mystery noir that comes in at under two hours. You’d be hard-pressed to say that its intended audience of older, weekday-matinee filmgoers won’t be satisfied by watching a canonised movie star like Neeson doing his thing as a 1930’s detective. Just don’t expect to be wowed by its stunning execution or originality.
Marlowe is screening in cinemas from Thursday 18th May. For tickets and more info, click here.