Parts #1 and #2: Here and here.
Farber: "Good coarse romantic-adventure nonsense, exploiting the expressive dead-pans of Robert Mitchum and Jane Russell, a young man and a young woman who would probably enjoy doing in real life what they have to do here for RKO. Vincent Price is superb in his one right role—that of a ham actor thrown suddenly into a situation calling for high melodramatic courage. Russell's petulant, toneless rendition of 'Five Little Miles from San Berdoo' is high art of a sort."
That pretty much nails it, although it says something interesting about what one might call Farber's critical ecumenism that he could deem this both "nonsense" and a "best film" of the year. It is a thoroughly enjoyable picture, and its enjoyable qualities stem in no small part from its being something of a mess—more nonsensical than your average bit of studio nonsense. Blame then-RKO-head Howard Hughes, whose obsession with his discovery Russell compelled him to micro-manage the production, firing original director Farrow and bringing in RIchard Fleischer to preside over a grueling series of re-shoots, during which the principle actors took the liberty of revising their own dialogue.
The plot setup is pure convoluted hokum, involving a Luciano-esque Italian mobster (Raymond Burr) rotting in exile who contrives to re-enter the U.S. by assuming the identity of drifting gambler Milner (Mitchum), who, it's assumed, will take his multi-thousand-dollar bribe and loll around the strange Mexican resort that's their rendezvous point for a year or more. "It's not the place, it's the people," resort owner Jose Morro (a thoroughly robotic Phillip Van Zandt) boasts to Milner after the possible sucker rolls in (Mitchum looks, of course, like they just peeled him out of bed, only moreso than usual). And for the next 40 minutes or so, HKOW is what Quentin Tarantino would call "a great hangout movie." Not much goes on. The sleepily sensuous Russell tries to pin down boyfriend Price, magnificently self-obsessed until the wife Russell's character didn't know he had shows up. Milner tries to figure out where his contact's at, and shows a little Rick Blaine nobility by using his card-sharp chops to benefit a young couple about to fall into ruin at the hands of a predatory gambler played by Jim Backus. After Tim Holt turns up, the plot somehow feels obliged to kick into gear. And then Russell stops by Mitchum's cabin wearing one of those numbers that makes you go "What the?" followed by (if you're me) "homina homina homina..."
And then the picture gets really weird; were I feeling highfalutin I would say it bifurcates. Actually, that's almost entirely accurate. After Mitchum's character is taken hostage by the bad guys, the picture hones in on Price's character, a hack and a ham and a moral coward who, handed a gun by Russell, sees an opportunity to do something real for once. "You go back to Hollywood...while I go on to real-life triumphs...or a glorious death!" he sincerely charges his puling wife and spineless lawyer (or agent, or whatever—it's hard to actually tell).
And off he goes, quoting Shakespeare all the way. Upon being wounded, he notes, "Tis not so deep as a well, nor wide as a church door," the almost-last-lines of Mercutio in Romeo and Juliet. Even a throwaway line like "I must rid all the sea of pirates" turns out to be from Antony and Cleopatra. The film reaches a near-sublime note of silliness when it throws in what amounts to a silent-movie gag involving a leaky boat commandeered by Price. And all the while, Mitchum's Milner, when he's shown at all, is completely ineffectual, a temporary plaything that Burr's sadistic gangster is eager to be rid of...
It seems a bit unfair, then, that Mitchum's character gets to pull off the film's ultimate bit of derring-do, but them's the rules, I guess. HKOW's often-bizarre variations on convention could only be carried so far.
By the way—two things. Among its other pleasures the movie also features a relatively rare in-the-flesh appearance from voice-over legend Paul Frees; it's always a kick to match that voice to a face. Also, our Mr. Farber was all of five months the senior of "young man" Mitchum at the time he wrote the above-cited piece!
UPDATE: My friend Mr. Joseph Failla has some particularly apposite notes to add:
"Even though Robert Mitchum received top billing, I always considered HIS KIND OF WOMAN, first and foremost, one of Vincent Price's most notable films. He dominates the proceedings so well, you forget the crime thriller you began to watch and become totally caught up with the Price character's newly found heroics. In fact, I'd rate his work here practically on a par with my favorite Price performance as a critically maligned Shakespearian actor in THEATRE OF BLOOD. I've often rejected the notion that Price was a ham; he's done much to prove otherwise. The problem was, he may have been at his best when he was portraying one.
If I remember correctly, very little of the film Farrow shot remains. I believe the opening scene with Burr is his; it seems to be played somewhat straighter than any of the other sequences he appears in. But once the comedy relief begins, we're probably firmly within Fleischer's re-shoots. The bulk of the film even looks different from the opening footage, making clearer how extensive the revisions were. I suppose it shouldn't be any surprise that another troubled Hughes production, MACAO, which also featured Mitchum and Jane Russell, switched directors too. Officially begun by Von Sternberg, it was completed by Nicholas Ray without credit. That alone makes viewing a must.
But I admit, I enjoy the lengths to which HKOW is willing to take its B movie theatrics. While other films would be satisfied with just roughing Mitchum up, this one continues to up the ante, especially during the extended climax on the villain's boat. Heightening the suspense by any means necessary (including that silent movie gag), the movie shows us Mitchum sweating and suffering much longer than we're used to seeing, as he's set upon almost endlessly by murderous thugs and a sinister doctor with a deadly hypodermic needle.
Oh, if you really want a good look at Paul Frees (in color yet), check out JET PILOT again. He's the Russian officer who goes for a very rough ride when he activates his ejector seat from an aircraft while still on the ground."
"Check out Jet Pilot again." Always good advice, sez I.
Recent Comments