The Late Show (1977) Blu-ray Review: Soft-boiled

The 1970s had better private-eye movies. But The Late Show (1977; Dir. Robert Benton) may be the sweetest.

The setup sounds familiar enough: Ira Wells (Art Carney) is an old L.A. detective who gets mixed up in a murder case that involves a missing cat, petty crooks, and oddballs. By his side—Margo Sperling (Lily Tomlin), a talky pothead who crashes into his life like a ’64 Dodge van.

What makes The Late Show work is that it’s a mélange. Detective story; comedy; romance; reflection on old age; and one of the gentlest odd-couple movies of the decade. Somewhere between Chandler and a New Hollywood character piece, Benton finds a tone all his own. It’s less interested in solving a mystery than spending time with its characters.

Carney’s great. He doesn’t play Ira like a typical hard-bitten movie gumshoe. He’s tough, but he’s also old, frail, and increasingly aware of it. In many detective movies, age is a character detail. Here, it’s practically a plot point. Yet beneath the weariness is simple decency. It’s the movie’s heart and soul.

Tomlin’s just as good. Lesser actors might have turned Margo into a grab-bag of comic quirks. Tomlin finds the vulnerability beneath the wisecracks. The performance could have been a gimmick. Instead, it’s one of the most endearing of the ‘70s.

Part of the film’s appeal is how it quietly subverts detective-movie conventions. Ira isn’t some hard-boiled knight stalking the mean streets. He’s tired. Margo isn’t a femme fatale. She’s a motor-mouth romantic. Together, they’re Nick and Nora Charles dropped into a late-‘70s neo-noir. Benton sets up familiar genre beats just to dodge them. Tough affection overtakes cynicism. In a detective picture, that can be a risky move. Here, it’s part of the movie’s power. If I have one critique, it’s that the movie almost feels too charmed by its charm. Yet even that can be endearing. Like Margo, the movie talks—and smiles—a bit much, and gets away with it.

But L.A. quietly steals the show.

This Los Angeles is a vanished city—apartment buildings, diners, storefronts, side streets, and neighborhoods untouched by luxury development or nostalgic branding. Watching the film today is like opening a forgotten box of Polaroids. If you love L.A. on film, old Hollywood, private-eye fiction, or the shaggy, lived-in movies of New Hollywood, The Late Show is catnip. Or heroin.

The Late Show isn’t just a detective movie. It’s about lonely people whose best days may be behind them, yet who keep moving forward with dignity and humor.

And the film never smirks at them.

If you’re a Late Show fan—and you may well be, if you’ve read this far—Warner Archive’s Blu-ray is a treat. Even before the movie starts, Richard Amsel’s stupendous poster art on the slipcase sets the tone. Funny, romantic, and of its time, it’s the perfect introduction to the film that follows. As for the Blu-ray transfer itself: The grain is intact and the colors breathe. Too many catalog titles arrive looking scrubbed and overprocessed. Not this one. It’s a handsome, respectful transfer—one this sleeper has long deserved. The extras are slim—just legacy material, including the original trailer and Tomlin’s appearance on Dinah! But no matter. The movie is the real attraction.