His Kind of Woman (1951)

"When I'm broke, I press my pants.", 26 April 2007

In the world of the film noir, His Kind of Woman is something completely different from what I've become accustomed to. Some would argue that it's not even noir, but some sort of crime/adventure/comedy amalgamation. To me, it's definitely noir . . . with a twist. His Kind of Woman features three distinct acts. The first is the hard-boiled, loner with issues, dark noir you might expect. We meet Robert Mitchum, see him drink milk (that's right – milk) at a shady looking bar, and watch as he gets his brains beat in after returning home. End of Act 1. Things start to lighten up as soon as soon as Jane Russell enters the picture. Not really a comedy, the 2nd act instead reminds me of some sort of perverse Ten Little Indians where a diverse group of people seem to have been summoned together for reasons unknown. And it's quite the collection of characters – Mitchum as the tough as nails gambler, Russell the wannabe gold-digger, Vincent Price as the self-congratulatory actor, Jim Backus the gambler looking to take advantage of a young woman, and the assorted hoods, federal agents, and innocents. Act 3 is something different altogether. It features a bizarre contrast between Mitchum taking the beating of a lifetime and Price hamming it up complete with a cape and lines from Shakespeare. Watching Price take charge of a Mexican police force is absolutely hysterical. Even odder is the fact that the movie's leading lady spends most of this time locked in a closet. This unusual mix of film styles and genres may put off some, but the whole thing works for me.

7/10