If you want to understand why Art Carney is a legend, skip the old sitcom reruns for a second. Look at his face in The Late Show 1977. It’s a map of every disappointment a man can have by age sixty. He plays Ira Wells, an aging private investigator who’s basically a walking relic in a disco-soaked Los Angeles.
He’s old. His legs ache. He has a hearing aid that whistles at the worst possible moments.
Most detective movies from the seventies were trying to be "cool" or gritty in a hyper-masculine way. Not this one. Written and directed by Robert Benton—who later did Kramer vs. Kramer—this film feels like a love letter to the hardboiled novels of Raymond Chandler, but written by someone who knows that getting old is the real mystery no one solves. It’s funny, sure. But it’s also heartbreakingly lonely.
Why The Late Show 1977 Broke the Detective Mold
The 1970s loved a good "neo-noir." You had Chinatown in '74 and The Long Goodbye in '33. But The Late Show 1977 did something those movies didn't quite dare to do: it made the hero genuinely fragile.
Ira Wells isn't Philip Marlowe in his prime. He’s the guy Marlowe would have become if he never caught a break and ended up living in a cramped apartment with nothing but his pride. When his old partner, Harry Regan (played by Howard Duff), shows up at his door with a bullet in his gut and dies right there, Ira doesn't go on a high-speed chase. He can't. He just slowly, methodically starts looking for whoever did it.
The contrast is wild.
Lily Tomlin enters the frame as Margo, a chaotic, fast-talking, New Age-y woman who hires Ira to find her kidnapped cat. Yeah, a cat. It sounds like a gimmick, but Tomlin and Carney have this chemistry that shouldn't work but absolutely does. She’s the future—manic, obsessed with "energy," and constantly talking. He’s the past—silent, stoic, and incredibly annoyed by her presence.
The movie manages to weave a kidnapped cat into a much darker plot involving stolen jewels, fences, and multiple murders without ever losing its grounded, human feel. Robert Benton didn't want a cartoon. He wanted a story about two people who are essentially "surplus" to society finding a reason to keep going.
The Genius of Art Carney’s Performance
People forget Carney won an Oscar for Harry and Tonto just a few years prior. He was on a roll. In The Late Show 1977, he gives a performance that is masterclass in "less is more."
There’s a specific scene where he’s trying to put his shoes on. It takes forever. He’s grunting, his face is turning red, and you can feel the effort in your own joints. It’s not played for laughs. It’s played for truth.
Benton famously said he wrote the script specifically with Carney in mind after seeing him in Harry and Tonto. He needed someone who could convey a "tough guy" history without needing to throw a punch every five minutes. Wells is a man who knows he’s being phased out by a world that prefers flash over substance.
He hates the new breed of criminals. They have no code. They’re messy.
Bill Macy—not the William H. Macy we know today, but the character actor Bill Macy—plays Charlie Stock, a low-level hustler who represents everything Ira detests. The way Ira looks at Charlie is pure gold. It’s the look of a craftsman watching a hack ruin a job.
The Los Angeles You Won’t See in Postcards
Forget the glitz. The Late Show 1977 shows the L.A. of cheap stucco apartments and dusty palm trees.
The cinematography by Charles Rosher Jr. captures a hazy, almost smoggy atmosphere that fits the "late show" theme perfectly. It feels like the end of the day. The end of an era. The locations are mundane—faded diners, cluttered offices, and back alleys. This isn't the L.A. of La La Land. It’s the L.A. where people go to disappear or to try one last desperate hustle.
The plot gets complicated. Honestly, it’s a bit of a labyrinth. You’ve got a missing cat, a stolen laundry bag full of money, a cheating wife, and a greasy fence named Birdwell (played by Eugene Roche). But the plot doesn't actually matter that much.
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What matters is Margo and Ira in a car.
They spend a lot of time in Margo’s beat-up station wagon. These scenes are the heart of the film. Margo is trying to "find herself," while Ira is just trying to find a way to finish his work with some dignity. When Margo says, "I'm a very heavy person. I have a lot of dimensions to my personality," and Ira just stares at her, it says more about the gap between the 1940s and the 1970s than any textbook could.
Critical Reception and the 1977 Box Office
When it hit theaters in February 1977, the critics went nuts for it. Roger Ebert gave it four stars. He called it "a movie that knows more about the way we live now than any other movie in a long time."
Robert Benton actually won the Silver Bear for Best Actor (for Carney) at the Berlin International Film Festival. It was a critical darling, but it struggled a bit at the box office because it was such an odd duck. It wasn't an action movie. It wasn't a pure comedy. It was a "mood."
It’s also worth noting that 1977 was the year Star Wars changed everything. Small, character-driven gems like The Late Show 1977 started to get squeezed out by the blockbuster era. It represents one of the last gasps of that incredible 1970s American cinema where the "character" was more important than the "concept."
The film holds a rare 100% on Rotten Tomatoes (at least at the last check), which is nearly impossible for a movie that’s nearly fifty years old. That speaks to its staying power. It doesn't feel dated because it's about being dated.
Actionable Insights for Film Buffs and New Viewers
If you’re going to watch it—and you really should—there are a few things to keep an eye on to truly appreciate what Benton was doing.
- Watch the Hearing Aid: It’s used as a brilliant narrative device. It symbolizes Ira’s disconnection from the modern world. Pay attention to when he turns it up or when it malfunctions; it usually correlates with his level of frustration with the "modern" chaos around him.
- The Dialogue Rhythms: Robert Benton wrote the script to mimic the cadence of Raymond Chandler’s prose, but he updated it for the 1977 vernacular. Notice how Lily Tomlin’s dialogue is frantic and circular, while Carney’s is short and linear. It’s a rhythmic battle.
- The Concept of the "Surplus" Person: Look at how the supporting characters treat Ira. They don't see a threat. They see a "grandfather" figure. This is his greatest weapon. He uses their ageism against them.
- Contextualize the Style: This movie is a bridge. It connects the 1940s "Black Mask" detective stories to the 1980s "buddy cop" genre, but it skips the gloss of both.
How to Find The Late Show 1977 Today
Finding this movie can be a bit of a hunt, which is fitting for a detective story. It’s often available on TCM (Turner Classic Movies) or can be rented on major VOD platforms like Amazon or Apple. It hasn't had a massive 4K restoration like The Godfather, but the slightly grainy, 35mm look actually suits the story perfectly.
Don't go into it expecting a high-octane thriller. Go into it for the performances. Go into it to see Art Carney prove that he was one of the finest actors of his generation, capable of moving far beyond the "Ed Norton" persona that made him famous.
The Late Show 1977 is a reminder that being "over the hill" doesn't mean you're out of the game. It just means you know where the shortcuts are.
Next Steps for Your Movie Night:
- Double Feature Pairing: Watch this alongside The Long Goodbye (1973) to see two completely different takes on the "displaced detective" in 1970s Los Angeles.
- Explore Robert Benton’s Career: After watching, check out Twilight (1998), which is Benton’s spiritual sequel of sorts, starring Paul Newman as another aging P.I.
- Track Down the Soundtrack: Ken Wannberg’s score is subtle but effective; it captures that "late night L.A." vibe better than almost any other film of the period.
The film serves as a perfect case study in how to subvert genre expectations while still honoring the roots of the story. It remains a masterclass in character-driven storytelling that rewards patient viewers with one of the most satisfying endings in noir history.