Phillip Marlowe (Robert Mitchum) is patiently waiting inside a hotel room. The famous detective is now older, more grizzled and has a certain world-weariness that only comes with decades of dealing with the most sordid and deplorable of individuals, being a servant to the deviants and an ally to the law enforcement. He is approached by an intimidating ex-convict, the aptly-named Moose (Jack O’Halloran), who requests Marlowe helps him find his girlfriend, who he has not seen or heard from in the years since he was sent to prison for his role in a botched bank robbery. Marlowe finds himself thrust deeply into a labyrinthine conspiracy which involves several shady individuals engaging in mysterious dealings, and the archetypal femme fatale, this time being the enigmatic Helen Grayle (Charlotte Rampling), the sinister wife of a notable politician, and the person that could bring Marlowe’s world crumbling down without any hesitation. Yet, our hero holds tight to his morals, and does his very best to aid the numerous people who still continue to seek him out – but could this gig, which involves several people on both sides of the law, possibly be his most deadly?

Dick Richard’s adaptation of the crime story stalwart Raymond Chandler’s Farewell, My Lovely is an astounding achievement – this is a film that feels caught between eras, occurring after the end of the traditional film noir period, but still not quite being a part of the burgeoning neo-noir movement that saw these kinds of elegant crime films against the backdrop of neon-lit cities. This is a very different kind of noir and one that feels so unique in its approach to the story. On one hand, it is as traditional as the Chandler films made in the heyday of the noir period – it comes with all the crime film trimmings, such as voice-over narration, archetypal characters and a plot that is twisted enough to be complex without being convoluted. Yet, it also is seductive, often extremely funny and possesses a certain misanthropy that was previously missing from the original cinematic realizations of Chandler’s fascinating crime stories. It is a film that operates as almost contradictory – a period piece that feels profoundly modern, a dramatic film with numerous moments of remarkable levity, and most significantly, it is harsh and arid with broad overtures of bleak nihilism, while still being undeniably sentimental and exceptionally warm, making this is an extraordinary example of noir filmmaking at its finest.

Like actors who have occupied this role before, Robert Mitchum was given a very special character in that of Phillip Marlowe. Perhaps the greatest literary detective of all time (except for a certain pipe-smoking Englishman, who undoubtedly served as an inspiration for this character), he is a bundle of complexities, a character that seems to be both profoundly human, but also existing outside of the realm of ordinary function, with his intuition, intelligence and remarkable ability to come to swift and meaningful conclusions making him one of cinema’s most endearing figures. In Farewell, My Lovely, Marlowe is different – he’s older and is no longer in his prime. His days of being the charismatic young private investigator have now been replaced with his status as a veteran of the industry, someone who has to be coaxed out of partial retirement with each new hire. In this film, Marlowe is the embodiment of “one last job”, which applies to every job he receives. Marlowe has seen the world in all its grandiosity and hideosity and is now reaching the point where his perspective on life is starting to shift. He was never particularly energetic, but in this interpretation of the character, he is more tired, more weary and certainly only doing what he does out of necessity – perhaps not for himself, but for those hopeless souls who are so desperate that they seek out his help (Marlowe was never the most confident of investigators – despite being clearly the best, his modesty did will in demonstrating his great humility – perhaps this is the appeal of the character?). Its always a fascinating experiment to take a well-known character and add a few years to their lives, revisiting them at a later stage and seeing how experiencing more of life has given them a new perspective.

The fact is that this version of Farewell, My Lovely would not have worked if the younger, more vibrant version of Marlowe had been used. Humphrey Bogart and Dick Powell were extraordinary in their interpretations of the character, but this film benefits from an older, more jaded iteration. This came in the form of Robert Mitchum, who gives one of his finest performances (but nearly everyone performance the actor gave was one of his finest – its a moot point to cite specific occasions of greatness when an entire career is defined by it) as Marlowe. In Farewell, My Lovely, Mitchum takes on the character with a blend of sincerity and exhaustion. His understanding of the character and his specific eccentricities are remarkably clear – despite being more world-weary and exhausted, Marlowe is still a genuinely good detective and someone who uses his skills to help anyone who comes seeking it, regardless of which side of the law they find themselves on. Mitchum’s Marlowe is far less of an aloof, enigmatic man, with the underlying empathy of the character being paramount to the performance. Farewell, My Lovely is more than just a noir film – it is a film that looks at a number of different themes, most of which are restricted to the realm of the personal and individual. Mitchum’s performance is astonishing – he was an actor who never needed to prove his talents, often opting for a more casual approach to playing characters, even when they were unquestionably intense. Yet, it’s in this more straightforward approach that the actor was able to give his finest portrayals, as even at his most aloof, he was so sincere. Every moment in Farewell, My Lovely feels so authentic because of the genuine empathy Mitchum imparts in the role. He is an actor who may have been made famous for playing villains, but was made great by his incredible forays into characters that may be more conflicted than your conventional heroes, but are no less compelling or admirable.

Yet, even though Mitchum is giving an all-time great performance, Farewell, My Lovely also benefits from an extraordinary supporting cast, being composed of an ensemble of veterans and newcomers, arranged in a carefully-curated tapestry of personalities, a gallery of heroes and villains, rogues and ruffians and everyone in between. Highlights of the cast include Charlotte Rampling, whose performance as the mysterious Helen Grayle may appear similar to every other manifestation of the deceptive femme fatale that we’ve seen in every conventional film noir, but still possesses a deeper quality that makes her performance a lot more compelling than simply being an enigmatic object of desire. Rampling’s performance is not particularly large, with the actress appearing in only a handful of scenes, yet making an indelible impression, not only because she plays both sides of the character – innocent damsel in distress and malicious villain capable of immense destruction – so perfectly well, it becomes almost terrifying how intimidating she is. Rampling is an extraordinary actress, and Farewell, My Lovely really does gain a lot of gravitas from her committed performance. Jack O’Halloran is the film’s secret weapon – initially nothing more than a sinister heavy that terrorizes our protagonist, we see the character develop a surprising amount of depth, with his intimidating size matching with Mitchum’s more cocksure demeanour. The two actors develop an almost symbiotic relationship, playing off each other with the effortless wit of a great stage play. Its almost a shame Farewell, My Lovely had so many plot threads, because had this film just been focused on these two characters, it would have undoubtedly been just as exceptional. Smaller performances from veteran character actors assist greatly in providing nuance to the film, with the audience being witness to small but memorable turns from the likes of Harry Dean Stanton, as a wimpy police officer who does not see the merits in Marlowe’s style of investigation, Sylvia Miles, as an eccentric former performer, and Kate Murtagh, who steals the show in a few short scenes as the embodiment of unrestrained evil. Farewell, My Lovely may be a film focused on Phillip Marlowe, but he is hardly the only reason this film succeeds, and as good as Mitchum is, its imperative to give credit to a great cast, all of which were truly incredible.

There is a certain quality about Farewell, My Lovely that just works, despite it being a very traditional film noir, at least on the surface. It isn’t only the more empathetic portrayal of Marlowe that’s at the centre of the film, but also the general atmosphere of that persists throughout. This is a film that is profoundly compassionate, even when it feels overtly bleak. It’s not a film about a detective in pursuit of answers, or at least this isn’t the only intention of the film. Los Angeles, just like Marlowe, is starting to change. Despite being set in 1941, Farewell, My Lovely is a stark commentary on the period in which it was made, showing the shifting change in the social structure. This film takes the opportunity not only to present itself as a wonderful throwback to the golden years of the genre, but also one that somewhat corrects some of the more blatant oversights of previous decades, albeit those that weren’t left out due to incompetence, but rather through necessity. The New Hollywood influence on this film is clear – characters speak openly about their exploits and debaucherous experiences (even though some of the content was racy for the time, films like The Maltese Falcon and The Big Sleep were far more conservative than the films they inspired in later years). Farewell, My Lovely is darker and more brooding – there is a lot more moral ambiguity and overtly risqué content (one of this film’s best sequences is set in a brothel, and Richards does not hold back on showing the degeneracy of such institutions in a way earlier films never could). Its more violent and certainly develops into a much more bleak version of this story than the original – but its in this approach that the film finds its most grounded qualities, with the heartfulness of the film coming from the genuine despair incited by the events. Much like its protagonist, Farewell, My Lovely is more mature and weary of the world it occupies, as well as being more compassionate and honest.

Farewell, My Lovely is a film that is quite easy to forget about – it was made in an era where crime films were dominated by neo-noirs like Chinatown and The Long Goodbye, as well as the rising influence of gritty British crime films that rejected traditional stylized stories and opted for a more bleak outlook. One could even argue that had it not been for the presence of the brilliant Mitchum in the leading role, this film wouldn’t even have been given a second look. However, neglecting this film is a dire mistake, because while it may not reach the heights of the genre’s greatest entries, it feels like a genuine noir, albeit one that is more stylish and possesses more thematic depth. Through its blend of meaningful commentary, employment of numerous traditional motifs and conventions (the voice-over narration in this film is astounding – some of the comments made by Marlowe throughout the film range from meaningful and profound, to outwardly hilarious. Its extremely evident that Mitchum was having fun with the role) and its effortless ability to weave together several intricate story threads in a way that is complex but never impossible to understand, this film establishes itself as a true masterwork of the genre, a film that feels less like an attempt to revive the genre, and more of a parting farewell to the qualities that made it so successful in the 1940s and 1950s, when it was at its peak. It’s a wonderful film, and one that certainly warrants an immense amount of acclaim – if not for its original approach or extraordinary resonance, at least for its biting sense of humour and charismatic warmth that makes it a singularly unforgettable example of great crime filmmaking, and a love-letter to a bygone cinematic era.