Sweet Smell Of Success

We’re still malingering in the last gasp of the classic period of American film noir. Just a suspicious group of gees in slouch hats and trench coats, clogging up the exit doorway of the decade of the 50s. Sorry about that. But it’ll be worth it. We’re going to take a look at a film that is completely in the genre but misses many of the elements most commonly associated with the form. The protagonist isn’t a cop. Not a double-dealing lawyer, nor a private detective. Get this --- the protagonist is a public relations flack. Can you imagine? There’s no flashback. No femme fatale. No voice-over to set our bearings. No one‘s shot or ends up in jail or the big house. However, our subject is full of dread, nihilistic forms, ducking and weaving to hold back fate --- but fate won’t be denied. It’s a set of the most blood-thirsty, conniving, desperate humans you’d ever want to meet --- or prefer not to meet. You choose. Plus, the dialogue is so sparkling and magical, it snaps off the screen and circles the air around your head, hanging there, to be lightly grasped and quoted endlessly. It takes place in the shadowed, dark night of New York City, the big, dirty city. It’s the Hecht – Hill – Lancaster production release of 1957 by United Artists of Sweet Smell Of Success. Whereas we’ve spent a good deal of time on the directors of the recent pod subjects, we’ll redress that by focusing on the writers, the dark cinematography from a genius of the trade, and a cast of favorites in front of the camera. And oh yeah --- Tony Curtis plays a serious role. Really.

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