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Philip E. Marlow (The Singing Detective)

Also Dan Dark
Created by Dennis Potter

“All solutions and no clues. That’s what the dumbheads want…I’d rather it was the other way around. All clues. No solutions. That’s the way things are. Plenty of clues. No solutions.”
— Marlow waxes philosophic on what the public wants in a detective novel.

The Singing Detective, which aired as six 70-minute episodes on the BBC in 1986, was not your average TV private eye. Or your average private eye television show.

Not by a very long shot.

Dennis Potter’s complex, sprawling, masterful, emotionally-charged multi-layered miniseries remains one of the most intelligent and surreal explorations of creativity, memory and the human condition I’ve ever seen in the mystery — or any —  genre. PHILIP E. MARLOW (notice there’s no “E” in Marlowe) was once a moderately successful British detective story writer, but now he’s a long-term patient in a hospital bed, covered in the scales and sores of the psoriasis that has crippled him, racked with pain and guilt and paranoia, and prone to hallucinations, as he tries to sort out his life, past and present, and mentally rework his best known novel, The Singing Detective.

As he weaves in and out of consciousness, Marlow is confronted by demons, both real and fictional. Actor Michael Gambon gives a powerful, wrenching performance as both the feverish, bed-ridden Marlow and the suave, fictional Marlow, known as “The Singing Detective,” who sings in front of a big band and moonlights as a private eye in war-torn London. Characters wander from hallucination to hallucination, occasionally bursting into song and dance, as the feverish, cynical, suspicious Marlow tries to come to terms with his past (stretching back to his childhood), his fiction, his present, and maybe, just maybe, some sort of future.

The show won all sorts of awards in the U.K. for both Potter and Gambon, from the BAFTAs to the Royal Television Society, and over in the States, where the show aired on PBS, a Peacock.

Not your average P.I. show, and definitely not everyone’s cuppa, but not one that anyone who has ever sat through is ever likely to forget. This is a show that doesn’t prettify much of anything — this is, for all its flights of fancy — the real deal; a vision of life as messy and bloody and shitty and cheeky and vulgar and sometimes, somehow, even triumphant.

Am I right or am I right?

* * * * *

But of course, anything as wonderfully imaginative and subversive (not to mention potentially profitable) as The Singing Detective couldn’t be left alone for too long. In 2003, Hollywood took a whack at “adapting” it.

The reaction from audiences, even with the knowledge that Potter himself was an accomplice, was decidedly mixed. Condensing almost seven hours of already tightly scripted television into a less-than-two-hour film couldn’t have been easy, and a lot of the subtlety of the original seems to have been tossed on the scrap heap. The lead is no longer the enigmatically named Philip E. Marlow, but the comic-book-sounding DAN DARK (played by a pre-Iron Man, post-Chaplin Robert Downey, Jr.), who makes grumpy ol’ Phil look like a rather pleasant chap after all, all things considered.

The original slowly revealed its plot through detail and the revelation of character; the film apparently gives up the Dark’s big secret in the first few minutes. Oh, and the swirling big band numbers are replaced by 1950’s rock’n’roll. Still, there were mostly thumbs-up for Downey’s performance, and the supporting cast (including Robin Wright Penn, a barely recognizable Mel Gibson, Jeremy Northam, Katie Holmes, Adrien Brody, Jon Polito, Saul Rubinek and Alfre Woodard) wasn’t too shabby either. Didn’t matter, though. The film came and went, barely noticed by anyone but critics.

THE EVIDENCE

UNDER OATH

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THE DICK OF THE DAY

Respectfully submitted by Kevin Burton Smith.

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