Frank Sinatra is a seen-it-all
NYC detective on the verge of seeing far more than he ever bargained for when
he starts investigating the case of a –- to use James Ellroy’s cruel terms –- homo-cide. The crime starts in a
high-end flat with a corpse minus a pecker, but Sinatra’s Joe Leland don’t
blink. Yet. The man also has off-job problems, dealing with the collapse of his marriage to a
new ager Karen (Lee Remick). These latter scenes are a dud, especially the flashbacks
as Joe meets Karen, each sequence intro’d by a twirly camera and goofy “You
are getting sleepy!” music that would play better in a Marx Brothers spoof. Scenes
involving the gay “lifestyle” are unintentionally hilarious-slash-insulting. Sinatra gives the roll his all, and the mystery is aces, but director (Gordon Douglas)
drops balls. Speaking of, dig that perfectly placed fern. Too funny. Film geek
alert: Based on a book, Leland got a new name and title in his next novel-to-screen adaptation, “Die Hard.” Yes, John McClane. B
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
The Detective (1968)
Labels:
1968,
crime,
detective,
Die Hard,
Frank Sinatra,
homosexual,
Lee Remick,
New York City,
police
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