Robert Altman’s The Long Goodbye and Paul Thomas Anderson’s Inherent Vice Taught Me That Some Good Movies Meander: Part One

By Jack Davis

In the first of two parts on my Meandering Movies blog series, I’ll speak on personal discoveries I made as a writer from watching some modern mysteries and dissecting what I first thought were unnecessary details.

On paper, The Long Goodbye and Inherent Vice are both mystery movies. But when I think of mystery movies, at least in the more conventional sense, I think thrillers. More specifically, I think of the word “gripping.” In gripping thrillers the characters are important, but a lot of the time they’re just devices meant to forward the plot or add suspense (especially if the characters are women). Except for the protagonist – sometimes – you’re not exactly there to get to know the characters. You’re there to be gripped.

The Long Goodbye and Inherent Vice aren’t those kinds of movies. Sure, a lot of the characters end up being pivotal to the plot in some sense, but some don’t. You don’t find a lot of narrative “fat” on those earlier-era noirs. And yet, both of these movies – upon a search on a streaming service or search engine – fall under the noir category. These movies are more of a revisionist noir, or postmodern compared to the traditional concept, in a similar way to the “dramady” genre being more of a postmodern concept. It sounds like a big term, but the way I see it anything postmodern tends to subvert in some way a modern – or familiar – concept, and often plays on our expectations having seen those movies.

Although not at all a trademark of postmodernism, these movies take a good bit of time – in the case of Inherent Vice, around two and a half hours – to get to the point. And there are a few scenes that – waiting until the credits have rolled – don’t serve much purpose to the overall plot, something a mystery story is all about. Yet, they are still at their core mystery stories.

As a writer, it made me think of characterization over plot. I was just as interested in Elliot Gould’s Phillip Marlowe as I was in the question of the culprit for his best friend’s wife’s murder. Marlowe has a cat that will only eat a specific brand of cat food (he goes so far as to put a different brand of cat food into the old can, but the cat notices), chain-smokes cigarettes (which I guess wasn’t as distinct at the time), always seems to be having his door broken down, and happens to live next to a troupe of naked women that – no matter where the story is at – are always outside practicing yoga (they make their money selling candles in town, we learn). None of those details listed prove to be a fatal flaw or give way to a “of course ______ was going to figure in the story,” but it does make Marlowe become a magnetic character, one we distinctly want to spend time with. With a lot of movies nowadays, you don’t feel any type of way about sharing a few hours with the characters, and most of the time that wasn’t a purposeful decision on the creator’s part.

I hope you’ve enjoyed me pontificating about the rich character that is Marlowe, Postmodernism in film, and my assertion that long movies are – sometimes – the vibe. I hope to see you next week, where I’ll talk about subplots, rich characters, and (what I see as) Paul Thomas Anderson’s spin on The Long Goodbye.

Don’t be a stranger; I’d love for you to comment with any questions, concerns, or friendly disagreements. Also feel free to reach out to me through the “Contact Me” section of my page. Peace and love!