>"BALLS, baby, balls!
Well, why don't you remember the good we had together, the beautiful times, huh? Oh, I got an idea. Why don't you call your friend the Marlboro Man in here and ask him a couple of questions? You ask him, ask him, ask him, Marlboro, when was the last time you made love in the lee of the lighthouse on Point Venus in Tahiti, huh? Or out on the lagoon, yeah, that shining lagoon with the goddamn surf booming on the Barrier Reef, hey? Yeah, or up on Whitney that night of the blizzard in the double mummy bag, woo! Ask him that."

My first Altman and I must say, I was expecting more. This somehow felt both too subtle and too over the top. I couldn't bring myself to care about the central mystery. Felt so much longer than it needed to be.

It's not all bad. I enjoyed whatever the hell Elliot Gould was doing here. Some great dialogue, some really funny moments, and a jaw-dropping ending.

Apparently this is supposed to subvert the Marlowe character and the private detective genre as a whole. Marlowe's behaviors evoke the 1950s, in contrast to the 1970s world that surrounds him. Unfortunately, all this was completely lost on me.

Obsessed with Marlowe just lighting matches on the nearest available surface, wherever he goes.