DVD Review: THE DETECTIVE / (1968) Gordon Douglas
December 2nd, 2008 by Scott Marks
The Detective (1968)
Directed by Gordon Douglas
Written by Abby Mann from a novel by Roderick Thorp
Starring: Frank Sinatra, Lee Remick, Ralph Meeker, Horace McMahon, Jack Klugman, Al Freeman, Jr., Robert Duvall, Jacqueline Bisset, William Windom, Tony Musante, Sugar Ray Robinson, Pat Henry, Joe Santos and George Plimpton
Running Time: 114 min.
Photographed by Joseph Biroc in 
and DeLuxe color
Rating: 
If Charles Bronson can pull the old Paul Kersey/Kimball switcheroo in the Death With series, I feel no remorse in referring to The Detective, bookended by Tony Rome and Lady in Cement, as part of the unofficial Gordon Douglas, Frank Sinatra policier trilogy.
Following the formula set forth in Rome, the films deliver a little social commentary, a little sex, deviant sex, gunplay, and Budweiser product placement all in the name of box office nirvana. Tony’s houseboat is dry docked and New York replaces Miami’s tropical locale. This go-round adds a love interest and more location work, but no more in-jokes (unless you count Jilly Rizzo as a bartender), snappy theme song or Mickey Mouse music. (Not surprisingly, Jerry Goldsmith supplied the trilogy’s most competent score.) As the title indicates, the character is no longer self employed. He’s a Detective Sergeant for New York’s finest. A Moss Mabry topcoat covers the smartly tailored plainclothes dick and little else. Joe Leland is Tony Rome East. Marvin H. Albert’s laid back gumshoe registers a shade darker when filtered through novelist Roderick Thorp and Stanley Kramer screenwriter (and Kojack creator) Abby Mann. Leland is a gritty, seen-it-all career cop disgusted by internal corruption. Gone is the galaxy of hot and cold running broads. This flatfoot’s love life is scorched by a flame he carries for his nympho ex, Karen (Lee Remick).
The film plows through the investigative material in an entertaining, if not particularly fresh manner. Everything grinds to a screeching halt whenever the lengthy boy-meets-girl-boy-loses-girl-to-numerous-indiscriminate-sex-partners subplot kicks in. You can feel the flashbacks coming two reels away. They start with a blinding blast of glaucoma followed by a throbbing inner ear infection: Images zoom and blur while shrill audio effects invade the senses. Leland aggressively picks up Karen. Douglas’ idea of depicting intimacy is moving the camera in close and instructing his leads to talk directly into it. There are plenty of roomy, perfectly centered ‘Scope closeups within which the characters pitch woo. On date night, Joe spends the last act of a play grabbing a smoke outside. Karen’s friends assume the macho bull too dense to grasp the nuance, but not Joe who defends his argument by referencing O’Casey and Shaw. This ain’t no average flatfoot. He’s cultured! Lee Remick, who gives the film’s best performance, was always at her hottest when she appeared broken and self-loathing. (Make a pitcher of Brandy Alexander’s and watch the last reel of Days of Wine and Roses.) When Joe shows up to make nice with Karen, instead of packing candy and flowers, he brings an edict: “I came here to ball!” Frank and the boys put Ms. Remick to good use.
The Detective showcases more stereotypes than Tommy Roger’s Tenement Symphony. There’s the Cohens, represented by Officer Dave and Rachael Schoenstein (Jack Klugman and Rene Taylor), and Kelly played by Sugar Ray Robinson. A menorah on the Schoenstein’s mantle adds verisimilitude. Rachel pushes lox and bagels and the second Joe finds a set of doctored books, he takes them directly to the token Jew. Someone must have taken delight in casting a black man in the role of “Kelly.” Sugar Ray Robinson’s years as a Vegas greeter prepared him for the part: He spends most of his time on screen standing next to doors. Joe’s black partner Robbie (Al Freeman, Jr.) has a bit of the Fuhrer in him. He likes his suspects nude. When asked why the naked interrogations, Rob-O confessed it was a habit he picked up watching German newsreels.
The film’s messages to the gay community are decidedly mixed. Frank thought he was Hoboken’s answer to Harvey Milk. Graphic fag bashing will be tolerated, but only in the name of peace, love and exploitation. Characters who are meant to appear sympathetic are given lines such as, “I knew he was gay, but he was civilized.” After “one of their kind” is murdered, the police scour the gay underworld for his killer. On the outskirts of town, dozens of clean, impeccably well-dressed gay men transform empty moving vans into passion pits. Homophobic vice cop Robert Duvall makes the bust, but not before roughing up a few Marys. Frank came to the aid of gays everywhere by punching Duvall in the face.
When the killer is finally caught, only Leland is secure enough with his masculinity to get through to the boy. After ushering all the force fag haters from the interrogation room, Leland offers Tessla (Tony Musante) equal doses of coffee and sympathy. He quietly coddles and strokes the beefy hunk before tightening the screws and getting a confession that ultimately leads to Tessla’s execution. Hero for a day, guilt-ridden schmuck for eternity. A second-hour subplot involving Jacqueline Bisset and her closeted, self-loathing husband William Windom proves Tessla’s innocent. Windom kills himself after a particularly seedy homosexual encounter ends in murder. (In order to visually dramatize the suicide jump, Joe Biroc, Frank’s DP of choice, tied a rope around a Mitchell and tossed it over a bridge.) Windom, whose creedo was “There’s no such thing as a bi-sexual, only homosexuals without conviction,” was also responsible for the film’s initial murder. Joe sent an innocent man to his death. You try packing around that much guilt, daddy.
IMDB offers this amusing bit of trivia: “Frank Sinatra was supposed to costar with his wife, Mia Farrow in this film but a film Farrow was working on was running behind schedule, so she refused. Sinatra got so mad, he made the film without her (casting Jacqueline Bisset in the role instead) and served her divorce papers on the set of…Rosemary’s Baby (1968).”
Films like The Detective and the far superior Madigan brought down the curtain on traditional private eye pictures. The abundance of network crime shows had saturated the market with transom peeping dicks, thus rendering them obsolete. We would have to wait a few years for Harry Callahan to come along and make our day.
Tags: abby mann, detective film, DVD Review, Film Review, Frank Sinatra, gordon douglas, Jack Klugman, Jacqueline Bisset, jilly rizzo, joseph biroc, lee remick, mia farrow, the detective, tony romeShare: 
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probably the only mention of Tenement Symphony this millennium. good going. still key to my youngest daughter’s fav marx brothers’ movie. but she is still young.