Chandler (1971)

So miscast that his unique screen persona is suffocated, Warren Oates stars as a modern-day private dick in Chandler, a lesser entry in the seemingly endless series of ’70s thrillers paying homage to classic film noir. Directed and co-written by Paul Magwood, who for obvious reasons never made another movie, Chandler features many of the usual noir tropes, but sluggish pacing and an incoherent storyline make it almost unwatchable. On the plus side, the movie looks good and features several colorful actors (Leslie Caron, Scatman Crothers, Gloria Grahame, Mitchell Ryan), plus the leisurely camerawork provides lingering looks at Los Angeles landmarks like Olvera Street and Union Station, circa the early ’70s. The inconsequential plot is the usual gobbledygook about a tough gumshoe falling for the dame he’s supposed to observe, and many of the film’s scenes are so casual—like Oates’ chatty introduction to Caron on a train bound for Monterey—that it feels like the filmmakers shot the actors hanging out on set instead of performing dramatic scenes. Gallons of bad blood were apparently spilled after filming ended: The movie was re-edited without the director’s participation, so huge chunks of story were extracted; the first composer was fired and a new score was installed; and Caron sued to get her name over the title. It’s possible a good movie was buried inside the raw material, but the version released to theaters and home video is confusing and dull, of interest only to noir nuts and Oates obsessives. (Available at WarnerArchive.com)

Chandler: LAME