Noir strepitoso di Hawks con un Bogard in grande spolvero che interpreta un fantasmagorico Marlowe. Nonostante l'età tiene alla grande,ha un ritmo fantastico ed un intreccio coinvolgente(anche se con qualche personaggio secondario di troppo),che si dipana difficilmente ma riesce sempre ad intrigare,anche grazie ad una superba cornice elegante e fastosa.Cinema di livello altissimo,immortale.
What a complicated noir!So many people were killed that i forgot some of them and i gave up to try understand why people killed or were killed.Besides,i found most of people so mean that i thought they deserved all that suffering. Baccal singing And Her Tears Flowed Like Wine made the movie worth the view.
This is all about a superb Will Faulkner script, and Bogart and Bacall talking about horses. Bacall reminded me of Marlene Dietrich, with the exotic features and faux accent. Bogie himself is a force of nature as the sardonic, cynical Marlowe. The film is a great example of style and form trumping substance and content.
It's all about Bogie (being Bogie the entire film) and Bacall (sexy as hell). This is not the kind of chemistry we see all the time: they're unique and the looks, the gestures and, most of all, the dialogues are immaculately wonderful. The storytelling is way too cracked, but who cares? One of my favorite noir films, with no doubt.
It's all about the dialog. And the delivery. The mystery is a mess that, if you try to think it through, probably doesn't hold together. But along the way there's the verbal sparring. The double entendres. And every pretty girl in sight throwing herself at a short middle-aged man with hard edged, wrinkled charisma. But really, its the dialog and the delivery. That's the polished gem of "The Big Sleep".
I prefer the 1946 version. If you can put Chandler out of your mind a bit, this is a great film, unquestionably. That's not to deny that the film reproduces a lot of what is great about Chandler, including Marlowe's cleverness, just that it's not quite the book. This is a Bogart/Bacall vehicle and a thoroughly Hollywood movie, and as such it doesn't get at Chandler's melancholy.
Slick, sharply-scripted, self-assured noir of the genre's heyday -- convoluted as all hell (Hawkes and Chandler even admitted they were lost during production), but really, the plot is just an excuse for talented stars to glower in smoky rooms, barrel through the rain in expensive cars and spout singularly, giddily clever and cynical dialogue. Style over substance, sure, but man, what style.