Thursday, 27 November 2025

Noir-vember: Fortune Is A Woman (1957)

A film noir that focuses on an insurance investigator who has his head turned by a beautiful woman. I must admit that I thought I knew how everything would play out when I pressed play on Fortune Is A Woman. It's not hard to predict the beats when a noir sets itself up in ways that lead to comparisons with one or two of the all-time greats. Surprisingly, things didn't play out exactly as I thought they would, although I did start to get in step with everything as the second half unfolded.

Jack Hawkins is Oliver Branwell, the aforementioned insurance investigator. When sent to deal with one Mr. Tracey Moreton (Dennis Price) he encounters an old flame, now married, Sarah Moreton (Arlene Dahl). After some conversation that includes some talk about arson, Oliver moves on to other work, although he enjoys being reconnected with Sarah. Things sadly get a bit too coincidental when Oliver spots a painting elsewhere that he believes belongs to the Moretons, just before there's some arson and a death, leading to a large windfall for Sarah.

There are a number of reasons to watch, and enjoy, Fortune Is A Woman, with the dialogue and plotting being quite an obvious draw. Adapted by Val Valentine from a novel by Winston Graham, the screenplay written by director Sidney Gilliat and Frank Launder maintains a great feeling of fun and a frisson of danger for the majority of the runtime. A big plus, however, is the inherent British politeness of the character played by Hawkins. There are at least two occasions that have him ready to fall on a sword that hasn't necessarily been placed directly in front of him.

Aside from Hawkins, who is a delight in his role, Dahl is also very good, and is allowed to work within an area of pleasing ambiguity while viewers try to figure out who is the real villain of the piece. Price is fine in his small role, Violet Farebrother is very good as his mother, and there are enjoyable performances from Ian Hunter, Geoffrey Keen, Bernard Miles, John Phillips, Greta Gynt (a scene-stealer), and even Christopher Lee, sadly only in the film for a couple of minutes.

There's a comforting cosiness to this. It's not one of those many noirs that will have you awaiting the ending with dread. It does still have stakes for the main characters though, and there's at least one corpse thrown into the mix. I had a great time with it, and the pacing of the 95-minute runtime is helped by the way in which the plot is almost broken up into a number of mini-vignettes (the set-up, the crime, and some investigative work only takes you to just over the halfway point, there is a bit more bobbing and weaving on the way to the end credits). The very last scenes may feel a bit underwhelming, but they don't do enough to spoil everything that came along before them.

7/10

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