Boasting two of the biggest male superstars (Jack Nicholson, Warren Beatty) in their prime along with a major director (Mike Nichols) The Fortune isn't worth a plug nickel. Smug, abrasive, shrill it attempts to bowl you over with its heavyweight roster but instead trips over itself and falls flat on its face with one forced routine after the next.
Nicky (Beatty) runs off with sanitary napkin heiress Freddie (Stockard Channing)but in order to do so must employ the dim witted Oscar to tag along in order to get around The Mann Act and the fact Nicky is still married. Acting as a stand in until Nicky gets his divorce Oscar marries Freddie and the trio head for sunny California. When the living situation causes a schism between Nicky and Oscar the boys agree to off Freddie to get at the fortune.
There is hardly a laugh to go around in Fortune as Beatty looking like a slick gigolo and Nicholson a cross between Larry Fine and Professor Irwin Cory show a complete lack of comic timing or any chemistry between each other even though Nichols intention seems to be an attempt at a homicidal Laurel and Hardy. Channing starts out promising enough but even she catches what the boys have (crass comic timing) by pictures end.
Nichols who up until this point had directed some seminal 70s performances allows his stars to lurch in every direction as he places more emphasis on camera movement and toying with ellipsis including not one but two long runway takes that remind us how well he did it in Catch 22 but not here.
John Alonso lenses capably while Richard Sylbert's production design applies a thick coat of lipstick to this pig but the end result is an arrogant display of contemporary might who felt reputation alone would carry this turkey. Instead it chops its head off.
