Actually, I also only recognized this pattern regarding Chandler´s up-to-no-good female characters when I was composing the previous post above, as following the plot indeed tends to be of secondary importance when reading his stuff (and, of course, these plots are usually so convoluted that in a sense, this near-impenetrable web is like an end unto itself, reflecting the world of moral confusion or ambivalence and the covert ways in which the world works/is run and power exerted). So now we´re enlightened in these regards. Strange how I´ve read these novels several times over the years and still unable to recall certain important parts of the story; it´s always the other stuff that stays with me. Atmosphere, tone, some trivial - from the vantage point of the plot - passages or situations. Like the prison sequence in The Long Goodbye, for instance. Or Gimlet in a downtown bar around a sunny noontime.
As for the concrete cases... it does indeed seem to be "Marlowe´s way" to not get directly involved when comes to punishment, to mete out justice himself. Regarding Lady In The Lake, it must be noted, however, that it wasn´t his business to stop Degarmo in the first place as there, in the cabin by the lake, was also present a police chief who had juristiction over that area. Plus it´s easy to see Degarmo wasn´t going far either way.
And these female characters... he finally creates a truly strong, sympathetic and intelligent one in TLG, of course, in Linda Loring (one could probably argue that Chandler was getting old and soft... of course, TLG was written around the time when his wife was dying). As for which ending I prefer... I think both are good fits in their respective context. The book´s ending is far more poetic though (I think I read somewhere that Chandler had been desperately searching for this perfect ending for a long time & tried out several other ways, and these earlier "alternatives" had been preserved and printed there... wherever it was I read that article), but on the other hand, there´s a cool sense of relief and finality to the films end as Marlowe disappears down the road, back to his proper time period, one assumes, and the 1940´s music starts to blare - just as it did in the beginning of the film, before he woke up. Whether or not his final act in the 70´s had been an appropriate one for his character, has been debated long and hard, of course, and it´s also controversial that he lets Eileen go scot free. However, I´ll still go with this quote by Slant Magazine´s Eric Henderson (which I´ve already flaunted on this board before, but hey...): "For all the film´s revisionism, one tenet of the film noir genre remains a holdover, existing in Altman´s film without revision or irony. For a man to betrayed by another man, when the two held a previously honorable agreement, is a moral crime, punishable by death. However, when a man is betrayed by a woman, it´s so taken for granted and upsets his world view so little, that it´s hardly worth a whisteling tune on the harmonica".
The Long Goodbye remains both my favourite Chandler novel as well as my favourite Marlowe movie, btw.
"facts are stupid things" - Ronald Reagan
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vertigothic70
11 years ago
The Gimlets, yes, truly memorable. (CC and ginger, not quite the same thing...)
You're also right about the ending of The Lady in the Lake, of course.
I have to disagree though about Linda Loring. She is one of the rich, spoiled, dazzling beauties Marlowe so frequently encounters, with plenty of poise, capable of charm and her wits about her - and without them Chandler's novels wouldn't have that certain glamour. But when it comes to their tête-à-tête at Marlowe's apartment at the end of TLG, I find it impossible to like her at all. Her attempts at teasing and 'playing games' lack sophistication, but that doesn't mean she appears more natural. On the contrary. Her pretense at 'falling in love' with Marlowe is very transparently just another pose, and the worst are her tearful moments. Then she behaves just like an over-tired child. It's all very tiresome. I hope at least the sex was good... Marlowe isn't fooled by her, but she does appear to have that hard-to-define 'certain something' he had a soft spot for.
A likeable female character is Anne Riordan in Farewell... Marlowe says about her:"You could get to like that face a lot. Glamoured up blondes were a dime a dozen, but that was a face that would wear." But also:"'There's a nice little girl,' I told myself out loud, in the car, 'for a guy that's interested in a nice little girl.' Nobody said anything. 'But I'm not,' I said. Nobody said anything to that either." [He's of course alone in the car.]
I don't think I need to elaborate... As for Chandler getting 'soft', I think he always was. Marlowe was a romantic character underneath the cynical veneer all along. "Down these mean streets", etc. - "a hero [...] a man of honour."
The quote about Altman's TLG is perfect, well worth repeating. Terry Lennox' betrayal of Marlowe's friendship is at the core of the story. It's interesting that the film doesn't dwell on that friendship as the novel does, where Marlowe also tells us quite a lot about Terry. The final scene in the book is, as you said, more poetic. It implies that Marlowe doesn't hold Terry to the same code of honour because he has realized that Terry is so damaged - "I'm not judging you. [...] You're long gone." It's almost as if he pities him. Therefore there's no further punishment necessary, because honour doesn't apply to the empty shell of a man.
It does in the film. Stripped of his backstory, Terry doesn't appear as weak, but as coldly calculating. (He also did kill his wife, or am I confused again?) And Marlowe, whose attitude to most of the follies of his surroundings is summed up in his catchphrase, "It's ok with me", makes it unmistakably clear that there are some things that aren't. Yes, he's an anachronism...
Without going much further into debating this... The endings do fit their different contexts. More than that, I see the end of the film as paying homage to the original character. In the world of Chandler's novels it was a matter of honour not to stoop to committing murder. In the world of Altman's film, paradoxically, killing Terry Lennox drives home the point that Honour (as in, honouring friendship) still matters - at least it should. Or, as I'd rather put it: Marlowe, presented as a remnant of the past, is a reminder that what makes a man is his personal integrity.
It is impressive that this adaptation by its alterations actually succeeded in enhancing the original's 'message' in this regard.
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