Alexander Mackendrick’s press drama is vicious, funny and superbly acted. Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis make every conversation worth watching, though the young lovers receive less of the writers’ attention.
Sweet Smell of Success is a hard, funny drama about men who make other people wait for permission to matter. We recommend it, with a reservation about how little freedom it gives the people caught between its two leads. Alexander Mackendrick makes conversation feel dangerous without asking anyone to raise a fist. The men can do enough damage while remaining perfectly polite. Much of the tension comes from waiting to hear how an apparently civil remark will be received.
Burt Lancaster plays J.J. Hunsecker as someone who expects the conversation to arrange itself around him. His restraint is the frightening part: he does not need to advertise the threat in every sentence. We laughed at the dinner with the senator, then felt ashamed of how much we enjoyed the intimidation. The pauses let us anticipate the next humiliation. Sitting at that table looks like a dangerous professional obligation.
Tony Curtis gives Sidney Falco a more restless sort of calculation. His eagerness makes every exchange feel provisional, as though the next remark might improve his standing or destroy it. He allows the wish to impress to become ugly without making the man incomprehensible. We can see why somebody would keep trying with J.J., even when the sensible response would be to leave. A small change of tone is enough to make us reconsider how much freedom Sidney has to say no.
The screenplay by Ernest Lehman and Clifford Odets gives them plenty to work with. Its insults are carefully made, and occasionally we become more aware of that workmanship than of the person speaking. That is a small cost, but it keeps some exchanges from feeling spontaneous. More often, the verbal display is exactly right for men who are always performing for one another. Alan Crosland, Jr. edits with an ear for the pause after a remark, allowing the listener’s discomfort to register before the talk resumes.
James Wong Howe’s black-and-white photography gives the New York night weight and detail. We can believe that these men would want to spend their lives in this city, which matters when so much of their company is unpleasant. At the dinner with the senator, the civilised setting makes the cruelty harder to dismiss as somebody else’s problem. Elmer Bernstein’s jazz score supplies a nervous energy that suits all this manoeuvring. It keeps the film from becoming ponderous about how badly everyone behaves.
The reservation concerns Susan Hunsecker and Steve Dallas, played by Susan Harrison and Martin Milner. Their secret romance offers some relief from the calculating talk elsewhere, but the couple get less interesting writing. The contrast makes sense: plain speech is welcome among people who turn every sentence into a contest. Still, we wanted them to be more than comparatively decent company. The film’s concentration on its bullies leaves the younger characters with too little space to surprise us.
As a drama about the press, it is narrow and pitiless, with little interest in anyone doing an honest day’s work. That narrowness largely suits its purpose: staying close to these men lets us watch the excuses form as they speak. Over 97 minutes, the concentration rarely slackens. See it for the two lead performances and the pleasure of dialogue spoken by people who know precisely where it will hurt.