Just before watching this miniseries about a middle-aged Sam Spade living in France, I read an article about it's co-writer/creator/director Scott Frank and his success as a script doctor who could find a script's weaknesses and set them write. Unfortunately, Monsieur Spade needed Scott Frank the script doctor rather than Scott Frank the writer.
In Monsieur Spade, a middle-aged Sam Spade lives in France and stuff happens. But very little of it happens in episode one, which could be described as a slow boil, but is probably more accurately a low simmer with the heat turned up in the last 5 minutes. It's really rather dull, and takes its time for no good reason.
But then things pick up. A lot starts happening, people die, people threaten, Spade investigates and wisecracks, and it's all pretty good. True, there are odd bits, like the character of Jean-Pierre, who ultimately serves no purpose in the plot and isn't interesting in his own right. But for the most part it's entertaining.
And then in the final episode it goes totally off the rails in double-crosses and murders and schemes that don't make much sense, and then there's this endless discussion that more-or-less explains what happened in the most awkward and tedious way possible, and none of it holds together or offers any narrative satisfaction, and there are so many loose ends.
Come on, Scott Frank, the New Yorker painted you as having unerring instincts. WHERE DID THOSE INSTINCTS GO?
Overall, I actually did enjoy this. I like Clive Owen's Spade, even if he's no Bogie, and I liked the repartee, even if there's nothing nearly as memorable as almost every line of Maltese Falcon. The acting of the supporting cast is excellent, and the story does keep you interested before it falls apart.
Is it worth watching? Maybe. Just be forewarned.
