Murder, My Sweet

Synopsis: This adaptation of the Raymond Chandler novel 'Farewell, My Lovely', renamed for the American market to prevent filmgoers mistaking it for a musical (for which Powell was already famous) has private eye Philip Marlowe hired by Moose Malloy, a petty crook just out of prison after a seven year stretch, to look for his former girlfriend, Velma, who has not been seen for the last six years. The case is tougher than Marlowe expected as his initially promising enquiries lead to a complex web of deceit involving bribery, perjury and theft, and where no one's motivation is obvious, least of all Marlowe's.
Director(s): Edward Dmytryk
Production: Warner Home Video
  1 win.
 
IMDB:
7.6
Rotten Tomatoes:
93%
APPROVED
Year:
1944
95 min
163 Views

I remember you as a noisy little

fellow, son. All of a sudden, you get quiet.

Is your book of answers lost,

or are you waiting for your lawyer?

Maybe you don't think

murder looks good on you.

- Maybe I didn't do it.

- Maybe he didn't do it.

Look, Marlowe, we're arraigning you.

We don't like you, but it ain't personal.

We just follow a routine after a killing.

Where's Randall?

He asked us to talk to you, if that's okay.

- Is he holding the kid?

- I wouldn't know.

- Is she all right?

- I wouldn't know that either.

- Where did you see her last?

- I forget.

- How do you feel?

- Like a duck in a shooting gallery.

- Cigarette?

- Yeah. Thanks.

Want to make a statement?

Boys tell me I did a couple of murders.

Anything in it?

You got a rope under my ears?

I think you better let me have it.

I'll have to hold it on you,

but I think you better let me have it.

Okay, Dowling. Bring in your notebook.

We're all set.

- The works?

- Yeah.

Some of it you know. If I misquote you...

Let's get it on the record,

from the beginning.

With Malloy, then.

It was about 7:
00. Anyway, it was dark.

- Why were you at the office that late?

- I'm a homing pigeon.

I always come back to the stinking coop

no matter how late it is.

I'd been peeking

under old Sunday sections...

for a barber named Dominic

whose wife wanted him back. I forget why.

I only took the job because my bank

account was trying to crawl under a duck.

And I never found him.

I just found out all over again

how big this city is.

My feet hurt.

And my mind

felt like a plumber's handkerchief.

The office bottle hadn't sparked me up...

so I'd taken out my little black book

and decided to go grouse hunting.

Nothing like soft shoulders

to improve my morale.

The soft shoulders had a date,

but she thought she could fix that...

and was going to check right back.

There's something about the dead silence

of an office building at night...

Not quite real.

The traffic down below was something

that didn't have anything to do with me.

I seen your name

on the blackboard downstairs.

Yeah?

I come up to see you.

You're a private eye?

That's right.

I'd like you to look for somebody.

I'm closed up, pal. Come around

tomorrow, and we'll talk about it.

I looked for her where she worked...

but I've been out of touch.

Okay. Tomorrow.

I'd like to show you where she worked.

Okay. You show me where she worked.

This way.

The joint looked like trouble,

but that didn't bother me.

Nothing bothered me.

The two twenties felt nice and snug

against my appendix.

I tried to picture him in love

with somebody, but it didn't work.

They changed it a lot.

There was a stage where she worked,

and some booths.

Pink flowers was in the slatwork.

She was cute as lace pants.

A redhead.

Eight years since I seen her.

Six she didn't write,

but she'll have a reason.

- What's she do, sing?

- Yeah.

Let's you and me go up

and nibble a couple.

Boss.

- Whiskey. Call yours.

- Whiskey.

You never heard of Velma?

Look, Joe, I'm sorry about your girl.

And I know how you feel,

but she ain't here.

No girl's been here

since I owned this place.

No show. No noise.

I got a reputation for no trouble.

She used to work here.

You ask him about Velma.

We've been over all that. Drink up, Joe.

You remember Velma?

I'll have to request

you don't bother the customers.

So far you rate me polite?

I don't bother you none.

Some guys has the wrong ideas

when to get fancy.

Whiskey.

Come on. Eight years is a lot of gin.

They don't remember Velma.

- Who asked you to stick your face in?

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John Paxton

John Paxton (May 21, 1911, Kansas City, Missouri - January 5, 1985, Santa Monica, California) was an American screenwriter. He was married to Sarah Jane, who worked in public relations for 20th Century Fox.Some of his films include Murder, My Sweet in 1944, Cornered in 1945, Crossfire in 1947 (an adaptation of the controversial novel The Brick Foxhole that earned him his only Oscar nomination). He helped adapt the screenplay for the controversial movie The Wild One in 1953 starring Marlon Brando. Paxton's work twice received the Mystery Writers of America's Edgar Award for Best Motion Picture Screenplay, for Murder, My Sweet and Crossfire. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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