When we think of noir film, our minds tend to flash to a world of shadows. A story told under cover of darkness, in code. As Angelica Bastién put it in her brilliant treatise on the genre for New York magazine, “modern noir’s biggest hang-up is that it seems only to care about the most superficial elements of the genre: its snappy dialogue, moody lighting, and interest in criminality.”

In Robert Altman’s The Long Goodbye, noir is a sun-drenched beach, a nude yoga class, a hungry cat, and a sleepy detective who’d rather not be there. Altman’s take on Raymond Chandler’s classic Philip Marlowe story is less Maltese Falcon and more Endless Bummer.

In a world where The Big Lebowski is a stoner epic, The Long Goodbye might not seem revelatory, but in the 1970s, a Marlowe revival featuring the lanky Eliot Gould as the half-baked, half-awake protagonist was relatively controversial. The movie was not loved by audiences on arrival despite critical acclaim (Pauline Kael called it “a high-flying rap on Chandler and the movies”), but like most Altman productions, it’s garnered a cult following. Count me as a member.

If you were looking for the bastard child of Chinatown and Dude Where’s My Car, you’re in luck.