(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Cool private investigator Lew Harper is hired by a wealthy California matron to locate her kidnapped husband.”
Over the years, the chief complaint registered against movies involving private eyes is that they’re so obviously formulaic that it’s easy to see which character in a given production is serving which required purpose.
In other words, there’s the lead – the private dick himself (or herself) – and he (or she) isn’t so much a man of action as he is a person of conviction. There’s a moral code that must be followed in society, and it’s his responsibility to see that such guidelines are being followed … or else. Then, there’s the client, usually a person of wealth or means, and living a life behind such insulation has produced a particular desire to see all tasks completed precisely to specific demands. After all, being amongst the social elite grants one certain privileges, does it not? Of course, there will also be a retinue of lesser players – the private eye’s trustworthy friend and colleague, the members of the opposite sex swooning with almost rabid hunger, the damsel-in-distress, the hyperbolic states attorney, etc. – and its this devotion to formula which is often cited as the central reason most avoid such stories. Having both read and watched such efforts for decades, I can assure you that, yes, that much is true.
However, fans of the classic detective stories can also make a case that its this narrative familiarity that draws our interest as well. There’s a great deal of solace in stepping into a world that has pieces so properly fitted together because – unlike reality – these fictional haunts make sense. Everyone has a role or a part to play – even if that means they’re here to inevitably become yet one more victim – because it’s this activity that serves as catalysts for justice to be not only sought and attained, often at a very high price. Procedures are followed. Clues are unearthed. Actions are suddenly suspected. Rest assured that all of these gears are turning precisely because they’re a required component to unmasking the culprit in the final reel – as is the custom – and the best scribes – both literary and for the screen – continue to discover small ways to keep the formula working. It ain’t easy. Yet, it’s a business.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Cool private investigator Lew Harper is hired by a wealthy California matron to locate her kidnapped husband.”
Over the years, the chief complaint registered against movies involving private eyes is that they’re so obviously formulaic that it’s easy to see which character in a given production is serving which required purpose.
In other words, there’s the lead – the private dick himself (or herself) – and he (or she) isn’t so much a man of action as he is a person of conviction. There’s a moral code that must be followed in society, and it’s his responsibility to see that such guidelines are being followed … or else. Then, there’s the client, usually a person of wealth or means, and living a life behind such insulation has produced a particular desire to see all tasks completed precisely to specific demands. After all, being amongst the social elite grants one certain privileges, does it not? Of course, there will also be a retinue of lesser players – the private eye’s trustworthy friend and colleague, the members of the opposite sex swooning with almost rabid hunger, the damsel-in-distress, the hyperbolic states attorney, etc. – and its this devotion to formula which is often cited as the central reason most avoid such stories. Having both read and watched such efforts for decades, I can assure you that, yes, that much is true.
However, fans of the classic detective stories can also make a case that its this narrative familiarity that draws our interest as well. There’s a great deal of solace in stepping into a world that has pieces so properly fitted together because – unlike reality – these fictional haunts make sense. Everyone has a role or a part to play – even if that means they’re here to inevitably become yet one more victim – because it’s this activity that serves as catalysts for justice to be not only sought and attained, often at a very high price. Procedures are followed. Clues are unearthed. Actions are suddenly suspected. Rest assured that all of these gears are turning precisely because they’re a required component to unmasking the culprit in the final reel – as is the custom – and the best scribes – both literary and for the screen – continue to discover small ways to keep the formula working. It ain’t easy. Yet, it’s a business.
1966’s Harper has the benefit of emerging from one of literature’s best of the genre: Ross Macdonald published The Moving Target in April of 1949 (per Wikipedia.org), introducing readers to his private eye Lew Archer (renamed Harper for the film). Archer’s run stretched to an impressive seventeen novels – no small feat for a gumshoe – and it’s worth mentioning that the script adapted by William Goldman went on to win the 1967 Edgar Allan Poe Award in the category of ‘Best Motion Picture.’ For those unawares, the Edgars celebrate outstanding achievements of the mystery genre; so it’s safe to conclude that Harper minimally represents the kind of storytelling mystery writers (and their fans) long to see up in the lights regardless of whether or not it’s been done before.
Being a fan of such fare, I find it easy to applaud a good deal of what director Jack Smight accomplished with the production. Indeed, Newman makes for an affable lead: though he’s probably far too good-looking to be accepted in such an urban lowlife who lives paycheck to paycheck, the actor manages to squeeze himself like a chameleon into the situations and circumstances with ease. When required, he plays a part – that of an outcast or a slight nitwit – and he even seems to be having a bit of fun at the expense of those around him. The labyrinthian story – another staple of the crime novel – likely makes more sense to him than it might to audiences, giving the actor the chance to demonstrate he's capable of both living and operating in certain circles wherein life isn’t valued as equally as it should be. Ultimately, Newman’s characterization – whether it works all of the time or not – makes Harper a better flick than it inevitably turns out to be.
Additionally, the production truly gives new meaning to the adjective “star-studded” as the picture is loaded with faces familiar to the bygone era of Hollywood. Elaine Sampson (played by Lauren Bacall) hires the shamus to sniff out the whereabouts of her missing husband; and the assignment puts Harper up-close-and-personal with the requisite snobs of the upper crust – attention-seeking daughter Miranda Sampson (Pamela Tiffin), family boy-toy Allan Taggert (Robert Wagner), constable to the rich and famous Spanner (Harold Gould) – all the way down to the social hangers-on who’ve fallen into a measure of disrepute – fading starlet Fay Estabrook (Shelley Winters), wacky self-help guru Claude (Strother Martin), etc. – due to vices they can’t quite control or choose not to. Harper navigates this maze with relative ease, suffering the usual beatdowns along the way, and it all feels as though its likely faithful to the pages of the Macdonald tome.
Being a fan of such fare, I find it easy to applaud a good deal of what director Jack Smight accomplished with the production. Indeed, Newman makes for an affable lead: though he’s probably far too good-looking to be accepted in such an urban lowlife who lives paycheck to paycheck, the actor manages to squeeze himself like a chameleon into the situations and circumstances with ease. When required, he plays a part – that of an outcast or a slight nitwit – and he even seems to be having a bit of fun at the expense of those around him. The labyrinthian story – another staple of the crime novel – likely makes more sense to him than it might to audiences, giving the actor the chance to demonstrate he's capable of both living and operating in certain circles wherein life isn’t valued as equally as it should be. Ultimately, Newman’s characterization – whether it works all of the time or not – makes Harper a better flick than it inevitably turns out to be.
Additionally, the production truly gives new meaning to the adjective “star-studded” as the picture is loaded with faces familiar to the bygone era of Hollywood. Elaine Sampson (played by Lauren Bacall) hires the shamus to sniff out the whereabouts of her missing husband; and the assignment puts Harper up-close-and-personal with the requisite snobs of the upper crust – attention-seeking daughter Miranda Sampson (Pamela Tiffin), family boy-toy Allan Taggert (Robert Wagner), constable to the rich and famous Spanner (Harold Gould) – all the way down to the social hangers-on who’ve fallen into a measure of disrepute – fading starlet Fay Estabrook (Shelley Winters), wacky self-help guru Claude (Strother Martin), etc. – due to vices they can’t quite control or choose not to. Harper navigates this maze with relative ease, suffering the usual beatdowns along the way, and it all feels as though its likely faithful to the pages of the Macdonald tome.
Still, it’s hard to dismiss the feeling that something just ain’t right with the completed project.
Newman’s a bit too genial in the lead, never really showing signs that he was ever in any real jeopardy when his life was on-the-line; and some of this might be owed to the fact that – as a star – perhaps he was simply too big to appear in a role wherein his life should’ve, would’ve, and could’ve always been at risk. While he plays it just fine, methinks that the audience might’ve found it a pill too big to swallow, even up to the point wherein his estranged wife Susan (Vivian Leigh) finds him yet again knocking on her door when the man has nowhere else to turn. We know she’s going to let him in, not so much because that’s the recipe but because it’s Paul Newman (for Christ’s sake!) and where would a Paul Newman film be without Paul Newman finding comfort in the arms of a beautiful woman. That isn’t quite how things worked in detective fiction – at least, not always – and perhaps a lesser steward would’ve made this one a tad more credible.
You see, investigators like Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe never quite had the good looks they could fall back on to help them out in a pinch. Hell, Mike Hammer more often than not led with his fists, and it was his pure, unbridled machismo – not charisma – that got him in bed with the girls well before the closing pages. With Newman in the lead, it’s a foregone conclusion that the case is going to be solved and order restored precisely because he’s Paul Newman; and perhaps such name and face recognition didn’t help the fact that this color-by-numbers procedural never strays outside-the-lines in any way, shape, or form. It’s … well … it’s entertaining is what it is, but it never resonates as if our hero was ever in any authentic danger.
His star was just too big.
Of course, I realize that some of this might be owing to the fact that I’m reviewing Harper in 2025 versus 1966 in the year of its release. However, Newman’s star was well on-the-rise in the 1950’s, putting this one probably smack in the middle of the years when his clout was at its strongest. A lesser known commodity – or, at least, someone a bit less photogenic – could’ve made this one stronger for this crime aficionado.
Newman’s a bit too genial in the lead, never really showing signs that he was ever in any real jeopardy when his life was on-the-line; and some of this might be owed to the fact that – as a star – perhaps he was simply too big to appear in a role wherein his life should’ve, would’ve, and could’ve always been at risk. While he plays it just fine, methinks that the audience might’ve found it a pill too big to swallow, even up to the point wherein his estranged wife Susan (Vivian Leigh) finds him yet again knocking on her door when the man has nowhere else to turn. We know she’s going to let him in, not so much because that’s the recipe but because it’s Paul Newman (for Christ’s sake!) and where would a Paul Newman film be without Paul Newman finding comfort in the arms of a beautiful woman. That isn’t quite how things worked in detective fiction – at least, not always – and perhaps a lesser steward would’ve made this one a tad more credible.
You see, investigators like Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe never quite had the good looks they could fall back on to help them out in a pinch. Hell, Mike Hammer more often than not led with his fists, and it was his pure, unbridled machismo – not charisma – that got him in bed with the girls well before the closing pages. With Newman in the lead, it’s a foregone conclusion that the case is going to be solved and order restored precisely because he’s Paul Newman; and perhaps such name and face recognition didn’t help the fact that this color-by-numbers procedural never strays outside-the-lines in any way, shape, or form. It’s … well … it’s entertaining is what it is, but it never resonates as if our hero was ever in any authentic danger.
His star was just too big.
Of course, I realize that some of this might be owing to the fact that I’m reviewing Harper in 2025 versus 1966 in the year of its release. However, Newman’s star was well on-the-rise in the 1950’s, putting this one probably smack in the middle of the years when his clout was at its strongest. A lesser known commodity – or, at least, someone a bit less photogenic – could’ve made this one stronger for this crime aficionado.
Harper (1966) was produced by Gershwin-Kastner Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be of very solid quality. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? The disc includes an introduction from Turner Classic Movies’ host Robert Osborne, the theatrical trailer, and a commentary from screenwriter Goldman. It’s an acceptable assortment for the entire affair.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
About the best that can be said circumstantially for Harper (1966) is that not only is it Newman’s film but also he seems to be having too much fun in it. His private eye antics never quite match the charismatic cool of Humphrey Bogart or Ralph Meeker but – with a bit more polish – could wind up in territory not far off from what Jim Carrey accomplished as ‘Ace Ventura.’ Thankfully, everyone else is along for the ride; and the performances – while admittedly stereotypical as the hard-boiled source required – work just fine. It’s the kind of feature that likely satisfies for one-time consumption but probably won’t generate much heat for a rewatch, especially for connoisseurs of the genre.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Allied Vaughn provided me with a complimentary DVD of Harper (1966) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
About the best that can be said circumstantially for Harper (1966) is that not only is it Newman’s film but also he seems to be having too much fun in it. His private eye antics never quite match the charismatic cool of Humphrey Bogart or Ralph Meeker but – with a bit more polish – could wind up in territory not far off from what Jim Carrey accomplished as ‘Ace Ventura.’ Thankfully, everyone else is along for the ride; and the performances – while admittedly stereotypical as the hard-boiled source required – work just fine. It’s the kind of feature that likely satisfies for one-time consumption but probably won’t generate much heat for a rewatch, especially for connoisseurs of the genre.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Allied Vaughn provided me with a complimentary DVD of Harper (1966) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
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