Murder, My Sweet

They say crime doesn't pay. Private detective Phillip Marlowe knows better. The fat wad of folding money warming his breast pocket is the kind of thing that keeps him going through thick and thicker as he wades chin deep into a mystery involving a missing necklace and a missing hoodlum's moll named Velma.

Sharply directed by Edward Dymytrk, Murder, My Sweet is film at its most noir, creating a moody sense of a world that never plays on the level. Casting against type, Dick Powell puts sunny crooner roles behind him, dishing hardboiled patter and wearing five-going-on-six-o'clock stubble so well that source author Raymond Chandler called Powell his favorite screen Marlowe. "I'm just a small businessman in a very messy business," the PI observes. With wit and trendsetting style to burn, it's never business as usual.