Some may pine for George Clooney’s chin or Scarlett Johansson’s lips, but no body part should be more envied than Elmore Leonard’s ear.

Leonard’s dialogue seemed to have walked in off the street. He filled countless pages with the stuff, capturing with preternatural acuity the diverse, often ungrammatical, frequently comic ping-ponging sounds of American voices shooting the breeze.

Now, a year after his death, comes the film “Life of Crime,” a largely faithful and appropriately admiring adaptation of Leonard’s 1978 novel “The Switch.”

It has three very good things going for it: the crinkled face of John Hawkes, the nasal deadpan of Yasiin Bey (aka Mos Def) and Jennifer Aniston in the kind of comedic-dramatic part she should have always been playing.

Hawkes and Bey play a pair of Detroit criminals — Louis Gara and Ordell Robbie, respectively — who conspire to kidnap the wife, Mickey (Aniston), of a suburban sleaze ball, Frank Dawson (Tim Robbins). Their plan to hold her goes awry when the plot is one-upped by others swirling around Dawson with equally bad motives.

With his mistress (Isla Fisher), Dawson has sneaked off to the Bahamas, where he’s hiding money skimmed off his business and plotting a divorce. Is getting rid of his wife even a threat? Also interfering on their home abduction is a country-club acquaintance (a mustachioed, cowardly Will Forte), whose ill-conceived romantic pursuit of Mickey brings him calling at precisely the wrong time.

Throw in the kidnappers’ third collaborator and it soon becomes clear that Louis may be the only gentleman left in Detroit.

Director Daniel Schechter gives the film a thick ’70s atmosphere, cribbing a bit from an adaptation of another crime fiction classic, “The Friends of Eddie Coyle.”

The vintage glow and period soundtrack are fitting but also somewhat stifling. Plaid pants and Hawkes fit almost too snugly.

Though it has a capable cast and it hues closely to Leonard’s dialogue, “Life of Crime” is missing the colorful snappiness of the novelist’s prose. The plotting doesn’t help.

But the Leonard briskness is something that only Steven Soderbergh — the director most synced with Leonard’s nimble rhythm — really nailed.

“Life of Crime” had Leonard’s blessing but it doesn’t summon the right pulse, the needed note of wryness until the very end. It’s a solid enough ode to the writer. But, as ever, to hear Leonard’s dialogue really sing, you’ll have to head back to his stack of paperbacks.