Every Little Thing I Adore About 'The Long Goodbye'

Part of what I love about The Long Goodbye is that I used to hate it. I came up through a lot of ultra-precise early 2000s smash-cut air-tight film-making where any breathing room was relegated to the end credits, so American auteur Robert Altman’s loose lucidity lost me time and time again when I first made my way through his movies.

Flash-forward to years later after finding complete acceptance with whatever the hell cinema wants to be and I find a true love for his unique use of the form. Always utterly at ease with itself, his greatest work somehow allows the carefree to coalesce into complete transcendence and then lounges back like it never happened. Case in point: The Long Goodbye might just be the funniest movie I’ve ever seen- and it only gets there because it never feels like it’s trying to be. Let’s get into it…

The magical mundanity of this opening shot. We dolly in to find our hero, private detective Phillip Marlowe, passed out fully clothed in bed. Our only hint of an ‘inciting incident’ is his cat waking him up because it wants dinner. God knows what the scratches on the wall are. Altman’s meandering genius tunes us to its unique wavelength from the very first frame.

Marlowe striking a match on his wall- and the fact he can’t go five seconds awake without reaching for a cigarette.

Marlowe sprinkling salt on his cat’s supper- and there’s something about the smooth, jazzy piano tinkling away behind the whole scene that makes it so fucking hilarious.

Elliot Gould’s hysterical mumbling as he slips a tie over his cheap shirt and beat-up suit as the cherry on top of the crap cake.

The dreamy soft-focus bokkeh splayed out over the city of angels.

 I can’t tell you how much I love the idea of recording so many versions of the title song, ‘The Long Goodbye’, in different styles and cheekily playing them all throughout the movie. Something about it is so perfect for this picture’s one-of-a-kind personality; and the way Altman introduces us to the concept less than a minute after the title card is so brilliant.

A lot of movies would just pass a character like this by without a word, so I absolutely adore Altman allowing this toll-booth operator a role where he practices cheesy Hollywood impressions in front of star clients, not so subtly angling for a better job. It’s such a funny, real little part- and the dude’s Barbara Stanwyck kills me every time.

This dude’s hair. Never mentioned, just there. This movie has effortless, unspoken charm up the grand wazoo.

“What I need a cat for, I got a girl!”

LOVE this random dude giving Marlowe shit when he asks for help. Apron slipped over his sports shirt for a 3am(!) shift, he’d rather be anywhere else.

Marlowe locking the cat out so it won’t ‘see’ him swapping its food. It’s such a true to life pet moment- and the pesky thing is still smart enough to know the difference.

The ever-so-subtle dolly drift in this shot. When you see the movie, you’ll notice Altman’s camera almost never stays still. He’ll mount it on a track, slap a zoom lens on front and play around with both to keep his images in constant motion. Beautifully mimics the uneasy flow of Marlowe’s life: Floating down a lazy river he can’t ever seem to pin down.

There’s something morbidly tragic about this whole scenario. Your buddy shows up at 3am, bleeding from his face after a ‘bust-up’ with his wife- and casually asks you to drive him all the way to Mexico. Marlowe, a literal private detective, doesn’t clock any of the lethal signs staring him dead in the face. Maybe his friend knows he’s too lazy to bother, or Marlowe even trusts him too much to even suspect. Either way, I think the story says something pretty brutal about the dangers of embracing slackerdom- in that people that project a lack of self-respect, even if they’re happy as clams, are ripe for being taken advantage of.

Marlowe’s mumbled quips while the cops try to mess with him. Dude is so far gone, he’s like a Kafka character whose self-aware enough to at least laugh at all the crap that happens to him to keep himself sane.

Altman giving us a peek at one of the cops creeping on the girls across the way. Your bit-characters have perspectives too!

Gould’s playfully specific character beats. Who the hell grabs a cigarette like this?

The movie casually showing crooked cops breaking the rules. They don’t even seem like bad guys, and we know Marlowe is guilty- but it still feels wrong.

“You got any cotton candy?”

Marlowe pulling funny faces in his police photos. Guy will take any opportunity to amuse himself.

The way we run back into the random supermarket worker in the jail after he protected said girlfriend from a “pig” who hit her- and they immediately act like buddies. Altman depicting the American police system as a full-on funhouse with insidious undertones would be deliciously funny if it wasn’t still so fucking sad.

The beautiful layers in this image from the silhouette to the subtle reflection and the scratched up glass… and who the hell thought of the detail of Marlowe ‘accidentally’ getting his fingerprint ink all over the two-way mirror? Perfect.

David Carradine playing with his toilet paper as the straw-brained cellmate “Socrates” and Marlowe’s disarmingly affectionate farewell to the fella.

“You’re free, isn’t that enough for you?”

“Well I was free to begin with”

Veteran screenwriter Leigh Brackett (see: Rio Bravo) gifting us with gold dust every other line.

Marlowe being brushed off by the cops. Part of me thinks he used to be on the force, was kicked out for slacking off and is now barely making ends meet as a PI. He’s a little poorer- and probably a lot happier.

The piano-man in this empty bar knowing Marlowe like a regular. There’s something beautifully bittersweet about the moment they share. Guys look like they have nothing in common except quiet loneliness, I wonder if they knock back drinks now and again just to have a bit of company. Oh, and I haven’t mentioned it yet but Vilmos Zsigmond takes one of countless opportunities to prove why he was one of the best DP’s to ever do it.

That long, slow zoom we get on Marlowe as he chats on the phone with his piano buddy clumsily crooning ‘The Long Goodbye’ a few feet away is just so devastating. It’s like the sorrow in the music and that big empty bar are crushing in on his head and making him wonder what the fuck he’s doing. Then the lady on the end of the line gives him and a job- and the camera starts to breathe out again. Reality at bay, for another day.

Another touching moment between lonely guys. The way the toll booth dude’s face absolutely lights up when Marlowe recognises his Jimmy Stewart a little shot of pure magic. Just made his day!

Marlowe biting into his host’s dry apricot through a mouthful of black lung, wincing at the taste, then hiding what’s left of it in his grotty top pocket. Gould might honestly make this the funniest character I’ve ever seen.

The fact that Wade’s book is literally called ‘Cry. Cry. Cry.’

I can’t tell what’s more ridiculous about Dr Verringer: His run or his wig.

Altman withholding the Dr Verringer punchline like a spring on a trap as he chases Marlowe through the complex. A hell of a lot of movies would have splurged that gag the moment he was introduced- but The Long Goodbye waits for the perfect time to strike.

Marlowe defusing Eileen’s apricot offer with a line about his diarrhoea. Getting late in the evening, her abusive husband away, wine glasses- he’s making sure the situation doesn’t escalate. Good guy.

The great Sterling Hayden, in his first scene, angrily waving his styrofoam pitcher in the doctor’s face.

Gould pressing his nose against the glass like a lost dog whose sniffed out some new friends. Great touch.

The Wades’ huge dog barking up a storm inside the whole way through their reunion.

There’s something so telling about the way Marlowe instantly drags the shutters down once Eileen gets into Terry’s guilt. Something about Marlowe’s reaction right here betrays the fact he’s more hurt by the idea that his friend betrayed him than just what he did to his wife. Marlowe might be cool as a cucumber slumber- but like the rest of us he’s just as vulnerable to delusions of his own design.

Gould’s very real scream of pain when one of these thugs hits him. After a whole movie of him breezing along without a care in the world, the brutal vulnerability of this scene really gets us where we weren’t expecting it.

The zany crime boss sweetly reassuring his date while his boys are kicking the crap out of Marlowe. I wonder how many cinematic comedy criminals this guy has inspired.

Altman briefly staying with the boss’ date to take a little look into her world. Gets left behind all the time, so she reaches over and turns on the radio to cue the title song yet again. So many film-makers would be so taken by the action of the scene that they’d miss something like this. A perfectly human little moment in their crazy world.

One of the boss’ thugs still gawking across the way at the girls next-door while they tear apart Marlowe’s apartment.

Zsigmond’s gorgeous low-key lighting here. Marlowe is barely a thin sliver clinging to the rim of his silhouette. Can’t see his eyes, can’t see his face. But do we need to? No. So 1970s.

This brief flash of the goons looking horrified that the boss just glassed his girlfriend. Such a real reaction to a mortifying moment. Everyone in your movie is human, not just the main characters.

The guy they left to stake-out Marlowe’s place shaving in his car. So many movies forget that everyone in them, even hardened criminals, are also people. We don’t all stand around like robots looking menacing for the camera, we have a life outside of it and it might just catch us in the act. Beautifully human.

“Listen Harry in case you lose me in traffic here’s the address I’m going to”

Always loved Marlowe helping out this young thug, probably knowing what his boss will do if he comes back empty handed. Nice guy.

Harry cleaning the food from his stake-out off the dashboard. Again, what film-maker would stick around to see this? Altman- and it all adds up (This is also the detail that first inspired me to make one of these on the movie!)

Harry immediately running right up to the guy he’s tailing and Marlowe scolding him for it. The film-makers could have easily gone with stereotypical criminals following the hero but they chose this clown on his first day and it’s a god-damn gold mine.

Elliot Gould dropping his cigarette mid-scene- and Sterling Haden referencing it, helping the guy out and continuing in-character. Not all movies suit these kinds of happy accident- but The Long Goodbye is more than loose enough for it to slide in snugly.

I fucking love how they got the reflection of Marlowe on the beach in the glass of the room these two are arguing in. Such a genius way to spice up the scene visually and maintain the PI’s presence. I think part of it is technical trickery and maybe a bit of flat-out superimposition in some shots- but it all bleeds together for a dreamy, one-of-a-kind effect. More movies should do this, now, before I steal it.

The waves breaking hard against the beach when Marlowe asks the wrong question about Wade’s wife. The rolling tide is such a great natural backdrop for the tense ebb and flow of this scene and I love the way Altman mixes the water way above what most movies would. It’s as loud as it would be in real life, if not louder- and as a result plays an organically vital part in underscoring the drama.

This can’t have been planned- and I can just imagine Altman sitting with Zsigmond and co. by the camera and yelling “GET THAT” to slam the lens and steal the best possible shot of the dogs humping.

And of course the melody for the funeral march is ‘The Long Goodbye’. Perfect.

The giant Leonard Cohen face on Eileen’s dresser. Cohen had recently scored Altman’s brilliant McCabe & Mrs Miller, so it’s nice to see this lil nod to him.

Marlowe complimenting Eileen’s fancy dinner and then leaning in to light a cigarette on the candelabra, free hand. Just look at her face!

And here’s something you barely see anymore: An intentionally designed, slow burning two-shot. Here, a blind-drunk Mr Wade is staggering out towards the sea unbeknownst to these two chatting in the house above. Holding on this shot- and following the drunk with a zoom- allows the tension to mount in real time. People should be less afraid to design their scenes around single set-ups like this, instead of chopping them up into so many pieces that magic like this could never materialise.

The Long Goodbye might be one of the most effortlessly funny movies ever made- but this midnight scene in the sea is pretty god-damn horrifying. From the moment they try to help, it’s hopeless. As the waves beat them back brutally, all they can do is watch Wade’s ghostly white shirt sink away into the deep darkness.

The boss’ view. Again, that soft early-70s bokkeh is incomparably beautiful. Like strings of diamonds dancing through the night.

The absolutely looney crime boss making his boys strip. We see a lot of top thugs in movies coming up with extremely violent ways to demonstrate their insanity- but Altman understands that crazy is crazy. Also look, it’s pre-fame Arnold Schwarzenegger in bright yellow underwear!

This wonderfully cartoony POV fake-out.

I love how obvious the ADR is during this bribe scene. It’s so clear that Altman shot the trio driving around in a car, then stuffed them into a room to record the dialogue separately. Does it matter? God no, if anything it makes the scene that much more charming.

The way all the sound drops out to isolate a solo Spanish guitar cover of the title song alone with Marlowe wandering up towards his lost buddy. It’s such a quiet, melancholic moment of clarity.

How chilled out Terry is when Marlowe finds him. Plays the scumbag so well.

Everything about the ending: From Marlowe ignoring Eileen in a subtle reverse nod to The Third Man, to the way he swings a local old lady around for a celebratory dance, to his jubilant fist-pumps, to the way we FINALLY hear a different song once the story is over. Case closed. The Long Goodbye remains one of the most endlessly charismatic, classically 1970s flicks ever shot- making perfect use of the period’s aesthetic, sound and style in combination with its uniquely sly wit to craft a crime caper that barely makes a lick of sense and is an absolute blast the whole way through. There are a few movies you just want to live in- and for me this is one of them: Sure there’s cutthroat criminals, sinister psychiatrists and loose marriages tearing their own little worlds apart; but there’s also an immortal spirit of breezy hope, carefree melancholy and honest humanity that brings this infinitely rewatchable classic dearly close to my heart.