Marathon Man

John Schlesinger’s Marathon Man is a good thriller with a cumbersome way of getting started. It asks us to watch several strands of intrigue develop before their connections become clear, and sometimes it merely leaves us waiting for something to matter. Once a scene has a definite threat, however, the direction is assured and the actors give it force. It is worth the patience, provided a complicated conspiracy is not the main pleasure we expect from a thriller.

William Goldman adapts his own novel, and the effort of getting its plot into place is often too apparent. Nazis, agents and diamonds require an amount of preparation that John Schlesinger does not always make interesting in itself. Information arrives before there is much reason to care about it, and the fragmented opening gives the film several opportunities to stall. Some confusion is useful when a thriller wants us to feel vulnerable; here, the explanations can become a distraction from the people.

Dustin Hoffman gives Thomas ‘Babe’ Levy an earnestness that helps enormously once the pressure mounts. The performance insists on the effort of enduring fear, and never lets danger become an excuse for looking capable. That strain can grow repetitive, particularly when the writing is already making heavy weather of things. Still, the physical commitment makes the threat credible. Roy Scheider brings a welcome economy to Henry ‘Doc’ Levy, suggesting competence without making each appearance a demonstration of it.

Laurence Olivier is the stronger reason to stay. He plays Dr. Christian Szell as someone for whom cruelty is an ordinary professional matter, without the theatrical relish that can make a villain comfortable company. We were frightened by his calm: the measured delivery offers no reassurance that another person’s distress might interrupt his business. The performance gives the film a clear source of dread even when the surrounding intrigue has become difficult to follow, and John Schlesinger allows it the necessary time.

Conrad Hall’s cinematography makes faces worth studying, especially when the dialogue offers little reassurance. The images keep our attention on people who may know more than they are saying, which helps sustain interest through the slower passages. Richard Macdonald’s production design makes the surroundings feel credible enough to accept without inspection. That unobtrusive work matters here, because the plotting already gives us plenty to question, and the actors need somewhere believable to stand while we question it.

Jim Clark’s editing has a great deal of preliminary material to manage, and the stop-start movement is tiring. Once a threat is established, the cutting maintains pressure and gives the actors room to register it. Michael Small’s score helps sustain apprehension, though its insistence occasionally feels unnecessary when the performances have already made the danger clear. The music works most persuasively as support for an encounter, without having to supply all the urgency that the larger story sometimes lacks.

The conspiracy-thriller pleasure of suspecting everyone is present, although the obscure plotting occasionally makes suspicion feel like homework. John Schlesinger compensates by giving individual encounters enough time to become uncomfortable, rather than hurrying towards another explanation. The loose ends still matter, and prevent the film from delivering all the satisfaction its strongest passages promise. Choose it for the actors and the sustained apprehension, with some tolerance for a story that demands more attention than it consistently rewards.