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cynical a story as you could want... but the arguments over the greatness of this noir rests on the leading man, Dick Powell.
Powell's career was nose-diving: he was a song-and-dance guy and this was his lifeline. It turned out he held on and went on to a new career as a dramatic leading man.
He doesn't "do" a very good Philip Marlowe, in my opinion. He's too civilized, too... nice.
Bogart was no-nonsense. He projected anger, distrust... toughness. I believed Bogart could casually shoot a guy down, after kicking in his teeth. Powell? Nah. He's the guy in the nice suit, downing martini after martini as he traded witticisms with his satin-gowned wife and petted his cute dog, "Asta."
He's not terrible, mind you, he does what he could. He's just the wrong guy.
Still, it's a terrific film. He just isn't... menacing.
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