"Harper" was a straightforward adaptation of "The Moving Target," the debut of Ross Macdonald's long-running series featuring private investigator Lew Archer. Nine years later, Paul Newman reprised the role of Harper (Archer) in "The Drowning Pool," based on the novel of the same name. "Harper" was not a remarkable film by any means, but it did manage to adhere to the source material (a virtue in Hollywood, where screenwriters are always tempted to "fix" the book they're adapting). Unfortunately, "The Drowning Pool" indulges in too many arbitrary departures from the novel, making it a mostly unenjoyable viewing experience.
Let's be honest: Newman was never the right guy for the role. He may have been an A-list star, but he wasn't Archer (just as Humphrey Bogart wasn't the Marlowe of Raymond Chandler's novels). Twinkly amusement registers constantly on Harper's face--in jarring contrast to Macdonald's dour, essentially humorless Archer--and he says things that are completely out of character. ("I'm horny but I'm not stupid," Harper quips after Melanie Griffith's teenaged hellion comes onto him. Archer was no prude, but he would never have offered such crass commentary.) I could tolerate Newman if the rest of the film made up for his deficiencies, but it doesn't. There was absolutely no reason to change the setting from California to Louisiana; the result is nothing but a lot of grating, painfully artificial Southern accents. There's some shooting and some fisticuffs, but not enough to redeem "The Drowning Pool" as an action piece. Murray Hamilton's broadly villainous portrayal of a bayou oil magnate is the movie's only real bright spot.
Ross Macdonald fans may want to see this once, though they'll yearn in vain for the richness and psychological complexity of Macdonald's prose. Casual viewers won't be able to pinpoint what's missing, but will instinctively sense a lack of substance.
Let's be honest: Newman was never the right guy for the role. He may have been an A-list star, but he wasn't Archer (just as Humphrey Bogart wasn't the Marlowe of Raymond Chandler's novels). Twinkly amusement registers constantly on Harper's face--in jarring contrast to Macdonald's dour, essentially humorless Archer--and he says things that are completely out of character. ("I'm horny but I'm not stupid," Harper quips after Melanie Griffith's teenaged hellion comes onto him. Archer was no prude, but he would never have offered such crass commentary.) I could tolerate Newman if the rest of the film made up for his deficiencies, but it doesn't. There was absolutely no reason to change the setting from California to Louisiana; the result is nothing but a lot of grating, painfully artificial Southern accents. There's some shooting and some fisticuffs, but not enough to redeem "The Drowning Pool" as an action piece. Murray Hamilton's broadly villainous portrayal of a bayou oil magnate is the movie's only real bright spot.
Ross Macdonald fans may want to see this once, though they'll yearn in vain for the richness and psychological complexity of Macdonald's prose. Casual viewers won't be able to pinpoint what's missing, but will instinctively sense a lack of substance.