"I felt pretty good... like an amputated leg."
I have, of course, read the Raymond Chandler novel, along with several others of his, but it's been decades. His novels and the films based on them (The Big Sleep may be a little better than this, purely because of its leads, but let this stand on its own) tend to blur into each other with their similar plots based on femme fatales, men with guns, world weariness, interlinked multiple clients for Philip Marlowe, poetic narration, and doing the right thing, disguised as cynicism, in a harsh yet redeemable world.
This film, with its truly exquisite and mournfully witty script, catches that mood to perfection, and the cast may not quite be top tier but they do their jobs well. What impresses most, though, are the little directorial touches as Marlowe is knocked unconscious with that "black pool" effect.
Telling the story as a flashback works very well, not least because it allows for the possibility of narration, without which any Philip Marlowe story could scarcely be imagined. And the end, with Marlowe knowing damn well that Anne is following him, is a delight.
I've no idea whether this film is rated particularly highly for its genre- the relatively low wattage cast might in fact imply otherwise- but I'm distinctly impressed.
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