fortune

The recent passing of director Mike Nichols heralded a celebration of his work, starting with his Oscar winning counter-culture hit The Graduate through his two-dozen odd credits on Broadway. Much deserved compliments abounded, not the least of which was the rather obvious statement, “the man knew how to make a hit.” Surprisingly, The Fortune (1975) wasn’t one of them. Starring the hottest properties in Hollywood (Jack Nicholson and Warren Beatty) and a behind the scenes crew responsible for some of the ‘70s most celebrated films, the film nevertheless sank into the sort of obscurity even basic cable didn’t have the heart to recycle.

In an effort to dodge the Mann Act of 1910 which prohibited transporting a woman across state lines for “immoral” purposes, Nicky (Beatty), a married man, convinces a naïve heiress, Freddie (Stockard Channing), to marry his partner-in-crime, Oscar (Nicholson), and run away as a threesome to California. While patiently working on his divorce, Nicky chafes at the phony couples’ budding romance and decides to hurry things along by staging Freddie’s suicide and pocketing the inheritance. Soon Oscar is onboard with the plan too with the pair of inept con men staging one misguided murder attempt after another.

A period farce shot by cinematographer John Alonzo with the same gorgeous L.A. glow he gave Chinatown, The Fortune looks every bit as good Pulaski’s noir classic. Unfortunately, as a comedy it’s completely tone deaf; all sound and fury signifying nothing except a couple of sight gags and a few familiar character actors milling around in the background. A weak script is the obvious culprit, but Nichols, who so often got the credit when things went right, should take most of the blame.

Beatty is all wrong as the Abbott to Nicholson’s Costello. His pencil-thin moustache and good looks fit the character description, but his line delivery is too subdued for the broad comedy required. Nicholson, all winks and eyebrows, is a much better match and has a nice enough chemistry with Channing (making her film debut) to make their scenes bearable. But Nichols’ diffident direction is so dry the jokes never get a chance to grow. A visually inventive (and wonderfully dialogue-free) opening sequence is his one real contribution to the proceedings. After that, he seems content to let his actors control the stage…even though none of them have a grasp on the material.

The Fortune has the feel of a film coasting on the reputations of those involved. Luckily enough it didn’t do any lasting damage. Twilight Time’s 3000-copy limited edition Blu-ray works wonders with Alonzo’s Gaussian-filtered photography and also includes an isolated music and effects track. Julie Kirgo’s liner notes are filled with the details of who worked with whom and when, which is probably the best way to appreciate the film: as a colorful oddity on the resume of a group of performers and filmmakers who could (and would) do much better.