The Honey Pot (1967)

What makes The Honey Pot such a delectable surprise is the way Joseph L. Mankiewicz turns a wicked little premise into a champagne-bubbly Venetian game of manners, greed, and misdirection—stylish, literate, and always one step ahead of you. Rex Harrison purrs through the role of Cecil Fox with delicious superiority, while Susan Hayward and the rest of the cast spar in dialogue that feels sharpened on a strop, each line landing with a smile that may or may not be a threat. The film’s vibe is pure sophisticated escapism—sunlit canals, velvet interiors, and a playful cynicism that gradually tightens into genuine mystery—so you’re laughing one moment and leaning in the next. It’s not for viewers who want their crime stories gritty or their comedy broad, but if you enjoy elegant plotting, theatrical flamboyance, and grown-up wit, this is a richly wrapped treat.

The Honey Pot is clearly aiming for a classy, Volpone-style Venetian caper: rich people, sharp dialogue, romantic sparring, and a mystery that turns a “practical joke” into something darker. The problem is that it often feels more like a talky stage play that happens to be filmed in beautiful locations, with a long runtime and a leisurely pace that can test your patience before the plot really tightens. If you’re expecting a snappy crime-comedy or constant twists, this may feel dated and overly mannered, even with Rex Harrison doing his best to sell the smug charm. Still, if you enjoy old-school verbal gamesmanship, theatrical performances, and a slow-burn whodunit atmosphere, there’s enough wit and elegance here to make the trip worthwhile.