1944 offered up plenty of treasures for fans of Noir. There was Laura, Woman in the Window, Phantom Lady - and of course, everyone's favorite, Double Indemnity… though I’m more partial to Murder. “Murder, My Sweet” that is. Adapted from the Raymond Chandler novel, Farewell, My Lovely, it sees private eye Philip Marlowe embroiled in two cases; one, a missing person, the other, involving a murdered client, and both just might be the death of him.
This was part of Dick Powell’s successful image change. Known previously for light comedic musicals - and looking very much like a character out of a Dr. Seuss book, what with that button nose, thin upper lip and cartoonish smile. You wouldn’t think he could pull off the tough guy act. But he did, wonderfully. And he delivers Chandler’s colorful dialogue like it was written specifically for him. Sure, Bogart outclassed him as a hard ass, but Powell was the better smart ass.
Along with our charismatic star, the well-cast picture includes Claire Trevor and Anne Shirley, who provide the glamour, while Otto Kruger and Mike Mazurki bring the menace.
Director Edward Dmytryk helms a good-looking picture, shot by Harry J. Wild, with Toland-inspired depth of field and low angle shots, nice use of shadows too. Its most notable moment is the expressionistic ‘coked up’ nightmare sequence - though the film as a whole has an off-kilter, druggy, dreamy vibe to it, beginning with Moose Malloy’s startling first appearance. He’s seen as an oversized reflection on Marlowe’s window - where his looming figure appears and disappears like a ghost. In addition, there’s the black-out effect whenever Philip slips into unconsciousness.
Character-wise we’re offered these interesting off-handed details: Marlowe sniffs - he sniffs a drink before partaking of it, he sniffs a couple of cigs, which he tosses away, before reaching into his coat to pull out his own brand (did those other smokes have an odd smell, were they marijuana?) Marlowe striking a match on Cupid's backside, to which he gives a few quick glances. Not the whole statue, just the butt interests him, I don’t know why. Or the bit when he steals the old woman’s whisky bottle; again, why (to give her a night off the booze, or to give him something to drink later). None of this adds to the overall plot but are simply curious personality grace notes.
It should go without saying that Marlowe’s twin cases, which quickly intermingle, are a kick to follow -- so there you are, it checks off all the Noir boxes. The style, the story, and hard-boiled language, the first-person perspective, the femme fatale. You can’t go wrong with this one if you’re in the mood for a night of murder and mystery.