★★1/2 André Bazin used to say that movies are like mayonnaise: we can have the best ingredients, but if it doesn’t mix well, it doesn’t curdle. Shadows… that’s it, a badly curdled mayonnaise. Liam Neeson is perfect for a grown-up Phillip Marlowe (a bit like Robert Mitchum from Goodbye, Doll, one of Chandler’s best movie appearances, even though Shadows… isn’t based on a book by the original writer); Diane Kruger is ideal for the character of the dangerous blonde, and Neil Jordan can do very ugly things (The game of tears) or very good (In the company of wolves, The butcher boy, We are no angels). But the desire for all the tropes of noir to appear in this kind of catalog of the genre causes a disintegration of the film, from the mystery (a person whose disappearance unleashes dark forces, a bit of The Long Goodbye, another bit of The Little Sister , another little piece of…) even the characters. A pity: Marlowe required a stronger shake.
