One Paragraph Movie Review: The Long Goodbye

Three hundred and thirty-third film: The Long Goodbye, Robert Altman’s 1973 take on Raymond Chandler’s 1953 novel held together impeccably by a perpetually smoking and unhygienic Elliott Gould as Philip Marlowe. I loved it. LOVED IT. I’m sad that Marlowe’s neighbours — a bunch of topless stoner yoga hippies — didn’t end up having anything to do with the plot, as I was totally ready to use the phrase ‘Chekhov’s titties’, but I still loved it. Grimy and crimey, a private detective tries to figure out who killed his shifty friend in between getting arrested, getting hired by the impossibly 70s elegant Eileen and her big drunk husband, and getting harassed by gangsters, including a baby-faced Arnold Schwarzenegger as an uncredited henchman. Gould is endearing despite looking like he’s recently been tipped out of a barbershop’s bin, and is a superb re-imagining of a domain usually occupied by Humphrey Bogart. Twists, crimes, booze, cigs, a cleverly-inserted musical motif, and a good reason not to date a gangster. Yep. Four discerning pet cats out of five.