NIGHT MOVES, from 1975, is one of the decade’s best detective stories, private-eye division. Well directed by Arthur Penn, the keenly observant screenplay from Alan Sharp (Ulzana’s Raid, Rob Roy) sees Gene Hackman, 43, as quixotic L.A. private investigator ‘Harry Moseby’. He’s a failure-jaded knight errant on a cross-country case that has him tilting at windmills of deception bestirred by an unclean slate of habitual game players. Trust is past its shelf-life.

“Listen Delly, I know it doesn’t make much sense when you’re sixteen. Don’t worry. When you get to be forty, it isn’t any better.”

Hired by blowsy ex-actress ‘Arlene Iverson’ (Janet Ward, acing pathetic self-deception) to find her runaway teenage daughter ‘Delly’ (Melanie Griffith, sex scamp on line one: we’ll hold) Harry journeys to the Florida Keys where he finds not just the teen tease but her stepfather—one of them—and his casually provocative girlfriend. Others in play from the California start of the trail include several members of a film crew. Also back in whatever-goes La-La is Harry’s wife (Susan Clark): he’s just found out she’s cheating on him with some nimrod who lives in Malibu. Trust, busted. It isn’t that someone’s not telling the truth, rather that no-one seems to.

Sun-baked neo noir of the 60s & 70s (Harper, Marlowe, Chinatown, The Long Goodbye) had replaced the shadow & light socks to the kisser and snappy comebacks of the 40s & 50s gumshoes: in the modern crop few forays into the hidden-in-plain-sight world of peeks, pervs, perps and penalties are as richly rotten and compelling as this ever-widening whirlpool. Harry’s not slow by a long shot, but he’s outnumbered and possibly outmatched.

Besides the flawless Gene, sharp-edged characterizations come from Clark, Jennifer Warren (sultry Keys siren), Edward Binns (his meatiest part in years), Harris Yulin (casual cuckolder), young James Woods (23 and rat-nasty) and John Crawford (underused character actor in his best-ever role). Griffith, 16 in her first credited gig, tests good taste boundaries with her nude scenes.

It may be that the plotline sports potholes that needed resurfacing, but the acting and mood are surefire, and the finale is a literal out-of-the-blue whopper. Bruce Surtees cinematography is especially effective in the night shots down in Florida. Hackman has a fight scene with one of the gents that’s up there with the roughest rumbles of the era (paging Darker Than Amber).

Poorly marketed, the film floundered at the tills, a $2,900,000 take tabbing a depressing 90th place for the year. With Kenneth Mars, Anthony Costello and Max Gail. 99 minutes.