Private detective Lew Harper (Paul Newman) is hired by rich invalid Mrs. Sampson (Lauren Bacall) to find her degenerate and neurotic husband who disappeared a day ago. Helping, or hindering, his investigation is Sampson’s spoiled daughter Miranda (Pamela Tiffin), the family pilot (Robert Wagner), and Sampson’s lawyer (Arthur Hill). The trail passes by an aging film star, a cult, and a heroine addicted piano player. Along with working on the case, Harper is trying to patch up his broken marriage with Susan (Janet Leigh).
The problem with Harper is that—although I’m reviewing it as Noir—it isn’t Noir. The dialog is, as is the characters and situations. It owes a good deal to The Big Sleep. Mrs. Sampson maps onto General Sternwood while Miranda is close enough to Carmen. The plot is a convoluted search for a missing person and the particulars don’t matter. It’s all about the characters. And like Marlowe, Harper spends his share of time beaten up.
This is prime Noir material, with every character being a bit (or massively) cruel and amoral. Newman makes a fine detective and the oversized supporting cast are all good. The lines are sharp and smart. But it looks like a TV movie and sounds like a cop show. There’s no flair. Cinematography says something about the film and its world, and this time it says bland. The music would be OK as incidental music for Mannix, but not in a feature. Film Noir requires a look that echoes the themes and characters, one filled with sickness and corruption, and touched by German expressionism. We get generic color pallet and stiff camera work lacking in artistry. It takes all the energy out of what should have been an excellent picture. It should have been a Film Noir, but it could have worked being something else. It ends up being nothing at all.