Harper (1966)

Paul Newman was three years away from "Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid" when he starred in this, a similarly breezy caper flick employing the same writer and cinematographer as would "Butch". But "Harper" tries too hard to be cool, falling short both as story and character study.

Lew Harper (Newman) is down to recycling used coffee filters and waiting for his wife's divorce to come through when he gets a plum assignment: Find a rich drunk named Sampson with a talent for making enemies. Suspects include his convalescent wife (Lauren Bacall), his beautiful daughter (Pamela Tiffin), his private pilot (Robert Wagner), and his tipsy astrologer (Shelley Winters). Harper's also trying to reconnect with his wife (Janet Leigh), even though he is unable to take their relationship seriously.

Watching Newman play cut-up is a lot of fun, and "Harper" coasts on its sunny charm - for a while. Harper's a "new type" of detective, who chews gum instead of cigars, tools around in a tiny two-tone car, and ignores the hottie daughter for a tray of finger food. "With a little luck we'll all be bombed by suppertime" is Harper telling someone he's about to crack the case.

Two things hold "Harper" back, both major: One is the story is way too underbaked. There's a kidnapping at the center of the story, and then a second, apparently unrelated bit of business involving Mexicans smuggled over the California border which throws more suspicious folks into the mix. How the two tie in is never clear, except that Harper stumbles across one while investigating the other and has to deal with both. Neither case generates much intrigue - what you get is a lot of cars driving fast and Harper getting punched around, rote business without a clear, connecting story.

The second major problem, for which I blame director Jack Smight, is the film's harsh tonal shift. It goes from being a somewhat lighthearted take-off on a noir mystery to a hard-boiled film in its own right, with Julie Harris overplaying the part of a sad junkie and Harper himself betraying his true colors as a Grade-Z stinker. Conrad Hall's lenswork and Johnny Mandel's theme music remain zippy and bright, however, and William Goldman's script still goes for the punchlines even as the body count rises and Harper looks ready to throw himself in the Pacific Ocean.

Newman established himself in the 1960s as the ultimate anti-hero, and his take on Harper gives us more of the same, only with an effort at comedy he sometimes overplays. He grimaces, double-takes, winks, snorts, snickers, and spits out enough gum to plaster the San Andreas Fault. He seems to have fun, though, and watching him is fun, at least in the first half, with Tiffin and Wagner presenting his best straight men.

"Do you think I'm attractive?" Tiffin asks Harper while lounging on a bed.

"You're young, rich, and beautiful and my wife's divorcing me," Harper answers. "What do you think I think?"

For his part, Wagner's character helps Harper out of a jam and banters with the guy. Harper calls him "Beauty", a heckuva thing for Newman to call anyone, but their chemistry works, at least until the film turns dark and weird and even Strother Martin as a kooky New Age preacher man can't force a smile. Hey, you think if Wagner grew a moustache, dyed his hair blond, and hung around for more than a few scenes, he and New

Fmovies: The film opens with Harper (Newman), unshaven and gradually awakening from a hangoverÂ… He puts his head under a faucet, attempts to make coffee but finds none left, and dispiritedly takes yesterday's grounds from the garbage and makes a perfect1y terrible cup of coffeeÂ… At once we get Harper's image as an antihero detective without any illusionsÂ…

As he is commissioned by Lauren Bacall to trace her wealthy husband who has been kidnapped, the details are filled in: he's tough, ironic, cool, unpleasant and repugnantÂ… Although occasionally given to a moment of sensitivity or remorse, he's most1y sadistic and exploitativeÂ…

Harper is a loner, with an air of detachment and an ability to dispatch opponents with a fist and a flippant remarkÂ… He swings into action only mechanicallyÂ… He chews gum constantly, looks around in an uninteresting manner, makes little disapproving gestures, laughs in total disregards, and smiles mischievouslyÂ…

Harper's dealings with women are based exclusively on coldness, deception and sexual exploitationÂ… He is estranged from his wife and would like to renew his marriageÂ…

Paul Newman makes an ideal Lew Harper (Lew Archer in Mcdonald's novels). And, he is in top form. The supporting cast is amazing. This includes Julie Harris, Lauren Bacall, Pamela Tiffin, Strother Martin, Arthur Hill, Robert Webber, Janet Leigh, and Shelley Winters. Leigh , in particular, makes a bit role one of the film's most memorable moments. The mystery has plenty of good plot twists and Smight direction is tight. All in all, a terrific picture.

Harper fmovies. Harper was one of a select few in the sixties that still stand out as eminently watchable films if not for the plot then for a host of other notable features. Newman together with Steve Mcqueen were the cool end of town during the sixties and more or less had the field to themselves.In Harper Newman extends himself in the cool department & delivers a classic performance which ranks with the better films he has made to date. In fact in this role Newman probably tried to do Mcqueen better than the man himself & to a great extent succeeded. Who could resist seeing Pamela Tiffen on that springboard in that bikini if you watched it for no other reason that would not be bad start.The look on Newmans face when he sees the pool for the first time and the laconic looping wave of the arm as he departs the pool after the first encounter with Tiffen & Wagner.The supporting cast should not be forgotten with sterling efforts from the adorable Lauren Bacall & Strother Martin to name a couple.Like many 60s movies which were quickly seen & forgotten this one is worthy of a place in the top shelf as Newman says in the film theres something all bright & shiny. All in all !triffic!

While perhaps not as taut as "The Maltese Falcon", but just as intricate as "Chinatown" or "L.A. Confidential", "Harper" is an under-acknowledged gem of a film that's as cool as it's leading man. It's with this film that I began to get a better appreciation of Paul Newman, easily one of the most versatile leading men Hollywood has ever produced. Here, he plays Harper as something of a SOB, always looking at the paycheck as his top priority. Not that the pond he has to swim in is any better; a frigid woman client, a hot-to-trot teen daughter, a duplicitous servant, an attorney who's the closest thing to a friend Harper has, a washed-up nightclub singer, her sinister, Texan husband, and a cult leader aren't exactly what one would call charming dinner company. It also doesn't help that the guy Harper's trying to find isn't even liked by the wife who hired him (thanks to the under-appreciated fire and spirit of Lauren "Betty" Bacall, one of the true originals) or anybody else. The only thing they like is his money.

Like a good boxer, the plot bobs and weaves, never letting the audience know when the next surprise is coming until it's too late. While Chandler is cited when talking about this film, it also makes me think of Hammett's many, many tales of the Continental Op. Not everybody always tells the truth, not everything is what it seems, and the best laid plans of mice and men (to paraphrase Bobby Burns) wind up falling through. Some people may not have the patience for this film in our razzle-dazzle, in-your-face age of entertainment, but for those who prefer their movies with a soft, subtle touch, this is one for you.

Until CHINATOWN, HARPER was probably the most mature private eye movie Hollywood ever produced. Paul Newman is dynamite as the scrappy, somewhat goofy title character, hired by wealthy Lauren Bacall to find her missing husband. Newman gets more than he bargained for as he runs into one flaky character after another: Shelley Winters as a bloated former child star, Julie Harris as a junkie, Pamela Tiffen as Bacall's extremely bitchy stepdaughter, Robert Wagner as a private-eye wannabe, and, best of all, Strother Martin as nasty, new-age guru. Not much of what happens really ties together, but it's all very fun to watch. The performers are all terrific and the pseudo jazz score is another plus. Featuring Arthur Hill, Robert Webber and Janet Leigh, underutilized as Newman's frustrated ex-wife.