by Derek Smith 9/9/08

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Has there ever been a sleezier character than Sidney Falco who you somehow end up rooting for in the end?  A more intense, intimidating, forceful and downright menacing display of corrupted power than Burt Lancaster's J. J. Hunsecker?  A more damning yet gleefully fun critique of capitalism?  Perhaps even I would say yes to one of those questions, but if I did, I'm certain there would be only a handful of answers I could come up with.  As gloriously seedy as Sweet Smell of Success is, it's acerbic wit, Elmer Bernstein's wonderful jazz score and clever dialogue keep things moving at such a rapid fire pace that we never quite sink into the muck inhabited by many of the characters.  The use of framing is particularly clever in mirroring the deceit and dishonesty of everyone but the honorable straight man, Steve, as several discussions occur with characters never looking at one another, as if hiding their true nature in tacit agreement to never reveal the true motives behind their actions or statements.  The story operates on a fairly small scale, remaining focused on Hunsecker and Falco's plan to destroy the relationship between Hunsecker's sister, Susan, and her musician boyfriend Steve.  At first, Curtis's smooth-talking, pretty boy Falco appears to be the lowest of the low, a press agent willing to do anything to get a story, using tactics that cause even Hunsecker to blush a little. 

As the plot thickens and Hunsecker has to dirty his own hands, it becomes apparent that while Falco makes a living in the slime, he's no match for J. J. (quite literally foreshadowed in their early exhange: "Match me, Sidney." "Not right this minute, J. J."), whose self-aggrandizement has reached such heights that he not only wants control of his sister's life but to destroy anyone who gets between them.  There are hints of incestuous desire, but J. J.'s motives come more directly from a desire to possess and be in power.  Mackendrick sets up this morality tale with various alliances, some stronger than others (Susan and Steve) but none unshakeable by the destructive, wanton abuse of power and the corrupt nature of the newspaper business and night club world.  The transformation of Falco from first class sleazeball to a pitiable, almost loveable, loser is perhaps the film's most remarkable achievement and in revealing the human traits that still lurk within him, we are met also with the gross inhumanity of Hunsecker, whose callousness and greed not only lead to his own downfall, but everyone around him as well.  Whether one sees J. J. as the embodiment of the self-destructive nature of unchecked capitalism, or just a power-corrupted, crazy newspaper tycoon, Hunsecker's viciousness is still as frightening as it is all-encompassing.  That Falco is revealed to merely a patsy, the long arm of a much more powerful being involved a grander, more cruel and vile scheme, makes Hunsecker appear all the more beastly and the film's condemnation of business as usual in the Big Apple..