I don't know whether the blame for this ought to rest on Spillane, Bezzerides, or Aldrich. Doesn't matter, there's more than enough to go around. It's unfortunate that this movie was "rediscovered" (I use the term with hesitation because I don't think it was ever discovered in the first place. Released, yes. Discovered, not quite) but even more unfortunate that it's received such a glut of critical attention lately. One of the "virtues" critics have been pointing out in this flick is what a great job it does capturing the "soullessness" and "spiritual vacancy" of 50s Southern California. One writer went so far as to liken Meeker to "Marlon Brando with the soul burned out of him." The problem is that the movie doesn't depict a soulless Los Angeles, but that it tries to depict a vibrant and lively LA and does so ineptly. Nick, the mechanic; the elderly Italian porter who gives Hammer a clue; the opera singing informant; the boxing manager; to a lesser extent, Velda, all these characters are lively and engaging and suggest a real humanity against this "soulless" backdrop. However, Ralph Meeker makes Mike Hammer about as interesting as a bag of doorknobs (betcha thought I was going to say hammers). The women characters are painted very shallowly and with trademark Spillane misogyny. I gotta say, I don't know exactly what that's about.
These are broad complaints with the film. I've got a few very specific gripes, but they involve plot points, so be aware of spoilers below.
First, the movie telegraphs just about every major event rather stiffly. Two seconds after Christina, the asylum escapee, says "If we don't make it to the bus stop . . ." viola, they are waylaid and don't make it to the bus stop. Every time the plot needs a forward push, Velda shows up and says "I got a few more names." Very convenient, very wooden, very unsatisfying.
The dialogue is not stylized, it's unnatural. I would say that the delivery is bad, but I don't think this script could have been read well by anybody, which is to say Meeker and Cooper are not up to the task. I think one of the lowest moments comes at the end, when Dr. Soberin is warning Lily about the atomic pinata. In four lines, he piles on the allusion like cold cuts and mixes his metaphors like oil and vinegar to sprinkle on this ugly submarine sandwich of a scene. "What's in the box?" says Lily. "It's like Pandora's box," says the doctor. "You're like Pandora. Don't you know the story of Lot's wife? Please don't open the box, there's a Medusa's head in there. I'm barking like the three heads of Cerberus at the gates of hell." Well, maybe not that bad, but you can check the memorable quotes link for the terrible transcript. A smart mystery writer would limit the allusion to the one significant reference rather than trying to impress with the ridiculous repetition (Robert Parker titles one Spencer mystery "The Widening Gyre," then makes no further reference to this allusion throughout the two-fifty pages that follow).
A final complaint is that there obviously wasn't much research done by Spillane or Bezzerides. Having the good cop Pat explain the entire atomic dilemma simply by saying "Manhattan Project. Los Alamos. Trinity," really sums up the problem. Rather than devising a clear plot, the writers opted to throw around a few atomic age buzzwords that seem to say something while saying very, very little. And then we end up with an image of the Malibu beach house exploding in the 1950s equivalent of a dirty bomb while a gut-shot Hammer clings to Velda in the waves. What is the parallel here? That the hardboiled Hammer will walk off his injury just as the fallout will roll off the back of this soulless Los Angeles?
Idiotic. Reforget this rediscovered tripe and go rent "Out of the Past."
These are broad complaints with the film. I've got a few very specific gripes, but they involve plot points, so be aware of spoilers below.
First, the movie telegraphs just about every major event rather stiffly. Two seconds after Christina, the asylum escapee, says "If we don't make it to the bus stop . . ." viola, they are waylaid and don't make it to the bus stop. Every time the plot needs a forward push, Velda shows up and says "I got a few more names." Very convenient, very wooden, very unsatisfying.
The dialogue is not stylized, it's unnatural. I would say that the delivery is bad, but I don't think this script could have been read well by anybody, which is to say Meeker and Cooper are not up to the task. I think one of the lowest moments comes at the end, when Dr. Soberin is warning Lily about the atomic pinata. In four lines, he piles on the allusion like cold cuts and mixes his metaphors like oil and vinegar to sprinkle on this ugly submarine sandwich of a scene. "What's in the box?" says Lily. "It's like Pandora's box," says the doctor. "You're like Pandora. Don't you know the story of Lot's wife? Please don't open the box, there's a Medusa's head in there. I'm barking like the three heads of Cerberus at the gates of hell." Well, maybe not that bad, but you can check the memorable quotes link for the terrible transcript. A smart mystery writer would limit the allusion to the one significant reference rather than trying to impress with the ridiculous repetition (Robert Parker titles one Spencer mystery "The Widening Gyre," then makes no further reference to this allusion throughout the two-fifty pages that follow).
A final complaint is that there obviously wasn't much research done by Spillane or Bezzerides. Having the good cop Pat explain the entire atomic dilemma simply by saying "Manhattan Project. Los Alamos. Trinity," really sums up the problem. Rather than devising a clear plot, the writers opted to throw around a few atomic age buzzwords that seem to say something while saying very, very little. And then we end up with an image of the Malibu beach house exploding in the 1950s equivalent of a dirty bomb while a gut-shot Hammer clings to Velda in the waves. What is the parallel here? That the hardboiled Hammer will walk off his injury just as the fallout will roll off the back of this soulless Los Angeles?
Idiotic. Reforget this rediscovered tripe and go rent "Out of the Past."