Post by Eddie Love on Nov 20, 2010 17:14:13 GMT -5
The fascination of 70s filmmakers with revisiting the private detective genre reaches its oddball apex in Robert Benton’s 1977 movie THE LATE SHOW.
The picture concerns an old time L.A. private detective Ira Welles (Art Carney) who takes on the case of helping a spacey, fruitcake (Lily Tomlin) find her cat. All of which has something to do with the recent death of Ira’s ex-partner (radio ‘s Sam Spade – Howard Duff) as well as some stolen stamps and the hot, missing wife of a powerful fence.
Like other P.I. pictures from this era, THE LATE SHOW examines the figure of the lone urban private eye in the harsh light of the present day. It suggests the code these men personified, which was sold to us and them by pulp fiction and Hollywood, is an anarchistic folly in the era of widespread corruption, national disillusionment, and its attendant cynicism.
THE LATE SHOW is interesting as it marks the appearance of two comic geniuses at the top of their game, yet I wouldn’t exactly describe it as actually funny. Tomlin’s pre-New Age, L.A. flake may seem dated, but her performance certainly isn’t. In fact, it’s aged vey well and is even better than I remember. She exhibits absolutely no vanity; as such she goes to some unattractive emotional places, and it’s all vividly real. She really has no peer for this kind of stuff. I suspect if she’d been more glamorous and her character less completely, convincingly needy, she’d have been nominated for an Oscar. As it is, you may squirm a little at some of what she does here, she takes the audience to some uncomfortable places, but she’s brilliant. I can’t think of a comic actress today who would do something so real without some ironic touch that winks at the audience.
And Carney as the broken down, crusty old-timer is simply perfect. Even though he’s known for his iconic, comedic roles, he instantly calls to mind the rumpled gumshoe. And he never simply relies on playing the lovable, codger card – he’s ornery and tough throughout. There are even scenes of him tangling with hoods half his age where he get’s realistically banged up. At one point there’s a shot of him in a diner sitting beneath a picture of Bogart, and you can’t help but think this is the type of performance Bogie never got a chance to give.
Produced by Robert Altman, the picture is a mellow chaser to his LONG GOODBYE. (There’s a cat that figures in each.) Benton’s focus is on character here, and though there are some kind of action scenes, they aren’t likely to thrill you. The underlying mystery isn’t particularly strong either. It involves a host of characters we never see, nor do we ever see the crimes they’ve committed which are at the center of the action. (This may be a function of the film’s budget.) Benton does, however, have a couple of cool reveals and there’s a fittingly bittersweet score throughout. Good support is turned in by Bill Macy as the pair’s sleazy pal and Joanna Cassidy as the femme fatlale of the story.
But the main attraction here is a master class in American acting, delivered by two stars you may know as clowns, but who were as good as any dramatic leads of theirs -- or any other -- time.