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This brilliant and mind-boggling film noir might be more properly called an anti-noir, doing for the crime movie what 'The Missouri Breaks' would do for the Western. It's not every noir hero who both offers marriage guidance AND does his own ironing.

'His Kind of Woman' is, in fact, three movies. It starts off as a fairly straight film noir, although its poker-faced pastiche of 'Out of the Past' is a little TOO poker-faced. Then, when the hero goes to Mexico to meet the other characters, the plot stops dead and enters narrative limbo, in a kind of noir precursor to Bunuel's 'The Exterminating Angel': Six Noir Characters In Search Of A Plot.

Then lunacy truly takes hold, as the plot eventually arrives, and Vincent Price, playing a barmy ham actor, takes over from Mitchum (magnificent as ever, baffled and goaded by a plot even less alert than he!) as the presiding spirit, and turns a moody thriller into the giddiest farce, where all the unpleasant aspects of film noir (fatalism, misogyny) are happily overturned. Proof that genre-busting didn't begin with Melville or Godard.