Marlowe

Directed by Neil Jordan, Marlowe follows Liam Neeson’s title private investigator as he agrees to find a mysterious woman’s (Diane Kruger’s Clare Cavendish) missing lover. It’s a straightforward premise that’s immediately employed to underwhelming and completely tedious effect by Jordan, as the filmmaker, armed with his and William Monahan’s screenplay, delivers an egregiously deliberate drama that’s been suffused with some of the hoariest cliches and conventions associated with movies of this ilk – which, despite the efforts of a stacked roster of periphery players, paves the way for a narrative with exceedingly little to embrace or get excited about. The picture’s arms-length atmosphere is compounded by an often ludicrously convoluted storyline that grows less and less interesting (and more and more baffling) as time progresses, and it doesn’t help, either, that Jordan’s inability to cultivate an ounce of forward momentum results in a midsection that artlessly lurches from one dull, pointless conversation to the next. (There is exactly one decent scene in the entire production, as pretends to be drugged and violently escapes from captivity.) By the time the absolutely interminable third act rolls around, Marlowe has certainly cemented its place as an uncommonly awful endeavor from a mostly reliable filmmaker – which is a shame, undoubtedly, given that the movie boasts plenty of talent in front of the camera.

1/2* out of ****