Film Review
His Kind of Woman is a film
which just shouldn't work. It has all the right ingredients but the recipe is
completely wrong. It's a schizophrenic monster of a film that
starts out as a classic slow-burning film noir and ends up struggling
with the mother of all identity crises, part rough and graphically
suggestive thriller, part over-egged comedy with gags that would not be
out of place in a Laurel and Hardy film. RKO's earlier attempt at
a film noir comedy,
The Big Steal (1949), has a
logic and coherence to it that
His
Kind of Woman manifestly does not, but somehow the latter is by
far the more enjoyable and likeable film. Why?
Vincent Price.
It's hard to believe but the film which had originally been conceived
as a lavish vehicle for RKO's two most valuable assets, Robert Mitchum
and Jane Russell, ended up being offered on a plate by RKO supremo
Howard Hughes, to Vincent Price. Hughes' megalomaniac tendencies
led many an RKO film to be butchered beyond recognition in the editing
suite but
His Kind of Woman
suffered more than most from executive interference. Hughes was
so unimpressed with the first cut of the film that he insisted on major
alterations. These necessitated substantial changes to the
script, the shooting of additional scenes and, most significantly, the
beefing up of Price's comedy role. Director John Farrow was
dismissed and Richard Fleischer hired to film the new scenes.
It's as mad as it sounds and the result should have been an unmitigated
disaster. Had Hughes favoured a far less capable and engaging
actor than Price
His Kind of Woman
would almost certainly have sunk without trace. As it is,
bloated, uneven and wildly eccentric, the film went on to turn a profit
at the box office and has since acquired a cult status. Maybe
there was a method to Hughes' apparent madness.
It would be an interesting exercise to see how
His Kind of Woman would fare if
all of Vincent Price's scenes were removed. By straining the
imagination a little, you can readily convince yourself that the result
might have been one of the grittiest and most seductive film noir
thrillers of the 1950s. Mitchum and Russell are well-matched and
spark off one another as well as any classic film noir leads you care
to mention, and both actors bring gravitas and a wicked sense of the
absurd to the film, with Mitchum doing his damnedest not to be
intimidated by his co-star's timezone-spanning cleavage. Best of
all, the film has a supremely sadistic climax, in which Raymond Burr
(never has he looked so sinister) revels in the mental and physical
torture he subjects a bare-chested Mitchum to as he salivates on the
prospect of his demise. Richard Fleischer directed these scenes
with a flair and intensity rarely glimpsed in his other work, and it is
amazing how they ever got past the censor.
Meanwhile, in another part of the studio, our friend Vince is busy
banking the laughs that will help to take the audience's minds off Burr
and Mitchum's nasty S&M session. Somehow the comedy is just
about kept at bay until the fateful moment when Price is called upon to
shove Miss Russell into a cupboard (he doesn't actually say 'Get out,
bitch, this is my film', but the intention is clearly there), after
which the comedy juggernaut is in full throttle and rampaging
down the highway. This is a surprising departure for Price, who
was then an established serious actor, admirably well suited for
playing melodramatic roles in such films as
Laura (1944),
Dragonwyck
(1946) and
The Web (1947). In
His Kind of Woman, Price plays the
kind of O.T.T. character that he would positively relish and become
most fondly remembered for in his later years, a vain, hammy actor who
had grown contemptuous of his profession. The histrionic
grotesques that Price played so memorably in
Theatre
of Blood (1973) and
Madhouse (1974) are not so far
removed from the self-loving film star he plays in this film, although
his performance is far more measured and convincing. How quickly
we forget the peril Robert Mitchum is in as he falls into the clutches
of a rabid, blood-spitting psychopath. It's velvet-voiced,
carpet-chewing Vince we end up routing for, every inch of the
way. Flawed it may be but this has to be one of the most
enjoyably daft of all film noir send-ups.
© James Travers 2014
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Film Synopsis
In Naples, Dan Milner, an unsuccessful gambler, is offered 50,000
dollars if he agrees to undertake a special assignment for a mysterious
client. A chartered plane takes him to Morro's Lodge, a remote
holiday resort in Mexico, where he is to await further
instructions. On the way, Dan meets Lenore Brent, an attractive
bar singer who passes herself off as a millionaire. Lenore has
been having an affair with the immensely popular Hollywood star Mark
Cardigan, who, as luck would have it, is taking a break in Morro's
Lodge as he mulls over getting a divorce. An undercover agent for
the American immigration service contacts Dan and warns him that the
notorious mobster Nick Ferraro plans to steal his identity so that he
can gain admission to the United States. Ferraro has in his
employ a plastic surgeon who can give him a passable likeness of Dan's
face, after which Dan will be surplus to requirements. Tired of
only playing the hero in films, Cardigan embraces the opportunity to
assist Dan in his attempt to thwart Ferraro and his trigger-happy
henchmen...
© James Travers
The above content is owned by filmsdefrance.com and must not be copied.