Classic Films in Focus: HIS KIND OF WOMAN (1951)

His Kind of Woman (1951) combines film noir and cock-eyed comedy in the performances of two great stars, Robert Mitchum and Vincent Price. Mitchum handles the grimmer business, facing off against Raymond Burr and a gang of nasty lackeys, while Price hams it up gloriously as an actor who yearns to play the hero in real life. John Farrow directs the whole with a skillful hand, weaving together the lighter and darker elements to create a thoroughly entertaining film that also highlights the charms of Jane Russell as the love interest of both leading men.

Mitchum heads up the cast as Dan Milner, a gambler whose run of bad luck pushes him to accept a mysterious but lucrative job in Mexico. Installed in a posh resort and awaiting further orders, Milner tries to figure out who hired him and why, but the more he learns the less he likes it. Meanwhile, Milner strikes up a romance with Lenore Brent (Jane Russell) in spite of her relationship with Hollywood star Mark Cardigan (Vincent Price).

The picture begins as straightforward noir and slowly evolves into something else. Very early on we see Milner get worked over for a bet he didn't make, and we hear that bad things have been happening to him a lot lately. Soon he's told that "maybe this part of the country isn't lucky for you anymore." Milner is no dummy; he realizes that his acceptance of the Mexican job has been orchestrated by some unknown party that probably doesn't have his welfare in mind, but he knows a fix when he's in one. He bides his time for an opportunity to fight back, which gives him plenty of leisure to pursue Lenore, even though she isn't what she seems. All of this is strictly noir material, and when Raymond Burr's vicious Nick Ferraro shows up things get really ugly. Around the midway point, however, Price's bombastic, good-natured character starts to undermine our fatalistic view of the action with his hilarious antics. Whether he's clapping at his own picture, spouting Shakespeare, or firing shots at Milner's enemies, Cardigan is always a hoot, and Price steals every scene where he turns up. Mitchum makes the movie cool, but Price makes it fun, and His Kind of Woman thus occupies a space all its own in the classic noir canon.

The film's other performances also contribute to its overall appeal, with Russell in fine form, especially during her musical numbers. She holds the screen against both of her male costars and moves easily between the picture's moods. Jim Backus provides comedy with a hint of menace as a scheming resort guest with his eye on a pretty newlywed, and Tim Holt is solid as a federal agent who tries to get Milner to help the law nab Ferraro. Charles McGraw is thoroughly unpleasant as Thompson, whose job is to keep Milner in line until his boss arrives, but Raymond Burr really takes the prize for worst bad guy as the brutal and possibly insane Ferraro. Deported from the United States but determined to get back to his underworld business, Ferraro plans to replace Milner by having plastic surgery to look like him. He doesn't take it well when Milner wants out of the arrangement. "I hate welchers, Milner," he growls, just before he knees Milner in the groin and then has him lashed with a belt. Later he threatens Milner with a Nazi drug that will destroy his mind and slowly kill him. It's no wonder that Milner objects to handing over his identity.

Dedicated fans of Vincent Price, who was a noted gourmet, will appreciate the scene in which Cardigan enthusiastically prepares a duck for dinner. For more of Price in film noir, see Laura (1944), Shock (1946), and The Web (1947). Robert Mitchum tackles more noir roles in Out of the Past (1947), The Racket (1951), and Angel Face (1952). Catch Jane Russell in The Outlaw (1943), The Paleface (1948), and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953). John Farrow earned an Oscar nomination for Best Director for Wake Island (1940); he also directed Mitchum in another noir thriller, Where Danger Lives (1950).

Classic Films in Focus: THE NARROW MARGIN (1952)

It might not be as famous as the noir classics that usually make the top ten lists, but The Narrow Margin (1952) is definitely a picture that every noir fan ought to get around to, and the sooner the better. Richard Fleischer’s tight, smart thriller packs a cross-country train trip with unexpected twists, making great use of the confined spaces and close quarters that its setting entails. This RKO production also features knockout performances, particularly from Charles McGraw and Marie Windsor, with Jacqueline White providing a refined contrast to Windsor’s dangerous dame. Those who enjoy train movies will love this film’s claustrophobic, high-speed atmosphere, and noir devotees will find enough pointed lines and sudden reversals to satisfy even the most devious imagination.

Charles McGraw stars as Walter Brown, a tough police detective saddled with the job of transporting a mobster’s widow across country so that she can testify in court. Mrs. Neal (Marie Windsor) turns out to be exactly the kind of cheap, selfish tramp Brown expects, but he and his partner, Forbes (Don Beddoe), have to protect her at any cost. Of course the mob wants her silenced, and their attempts to get to the witness only intensify once they board a train from Chicago to Los Angeles. Brown’s efforts to keep Mrs. Neal alive become even more complicated when he meets the attractive Ann Sinclair (Jacqueline White) and accidentally leads the killers to think that she is their target.

The Narrow Margin plays with our expectations and those of its own characters, especially Brown. The jaded cop is sure that he knows all about Mrs. Neal before he even meets her. “What kind of dame would marry a hood?” he asks, and Marie Windsor’s flashy viper matches his preconceived image perfectly. As a result, he doesn’t feel obligated to be nice to her; he repeatedly tells her to shut up and handles her like a parcel of dirty laundry. He gets as good as he gives, too. “You make me sick to my stomach,” he tells her. “Well,” she snaps back, “use your own sink.” Brown only softens when he meets Ann, a classy, polite blonde who is Mrs. Neal’s opposite in every way. The trouble is, Brown knows a lot less than he thinks about what is really going on, and his actions put both women in danger.

The train setting ratchets up the tension because the killers and their targets come into such close contact; nobody can hide except in plain sight. Paul Maxey is an especially imposing presence in this environment; his character, Sam Jennings, uses his girth as an effective weapon in the train’s cramped corridors. “Nobody loves a fat man,” he jokes, but he knows exactly how to throw his weight around to achieve his aim. Gordon Gebert’s hyper Tommy Sinclair also has an exaggerated effect in the tight spaces; his boyish noise draws unwanted attention to Brown every time the two meet. Brown struggles to keep a low profile in spite of these and other human obstacles to his mission, but he has to play a weirdly blatant cat and mouse game with the killers. His only advantage is that the assassins don’t know what Mrs. Neal looks like, but it’s just a matter of time before hunters and prey occupy the same fatal space.

Richard Fleischer also directed 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1954), Fantastic Voyage (1966), and Doctor Dolittle (1967), as well as the cult sci-fi classic, Soylent Green (1973). Look for Charles McGraw in The Killers (1946), T-Men (1947), and The Man in the Net (1959). Marie Windsor gives another fabulously poisonous performance in The Killing (1956). The Narrow Margin was Jacqueline White’s final film before her retirement from Hollywood, but you’ll also find her in Crossfire (1947). Child actor Gordon Gebert turns up in Holiday Affair (1949), The Flame and the Arrow (1950), and The House on Telegraph Hill (1951).