SWEET SMELL OF SUCCESS

Each time I see this movie, one of the greatest of all films, I think of a satellite orbiting around the Earth. The satellite is Sidney Falco (Tony Curtis) and the Earth is J.J. Hunsecker (Burt Lancaster). And there's blackness all around them. J.J. and Sidney have a hate-hate relationship, but their mutual need for each other's power is too much for either of them to ignore. In nearly every review I've read of the film, critics have described this relationship in some similar way. But I think it's best described in terms of the satellite and the Earth because it's important to talk about the blackness that surrounds them.

J.J. Hunsecker is a gossip columnist in New York. Sidney Falco is a press agent. Hunsecker is the most powerful columnist in the city, where his words have the power to ruin careers or grandstand no-names. Hunsecker is a successful man and is widely feared by the higher-up public profiles due to his rampant, unapologetic power of his printed word. Falco wants to be Hunsecker, and his plan is to provide Hunsecker the bits and pieces he uses in his columns to make it to the top. We see the different levels of success the two have. Hunsecker sits at the tables of senators; Falco is asked to light Hunsecker's cigarette. Hunsecker has his own private office; Falco's office is also his bedroom.

Recently, Falco has been shunted by Hunsecker. We come to learn that this is because Falco has so far has failed to break up the relationship of Hunsecker's sister Susan (Susan Harrison) and Steve (Marty Milner), a local do-good, make-good musician. The film cleverly paints these two as the wide-eyed lovers, normal in almost every way. There's a sense of naivete with both of them, but it is clear that Susan is aware of J.J.'s malicious influence. We get the impression that Susan has been in similar situations before, though proposed marriage was probably as far as she has ever gotten.

The film is unflinching in its portrayal of the two men. Hunsecker is an ethical zero; he will stop at nothing to separate his sister from her fiance. And Falco will stop at nothing to make sure it happens. Perhaps this is most obvious when he lures a girl to his apartment with the expectation of sex. He then lures another columnist to his apartment, promising him sex with the girl. When the girl (Barbara Nichols) at first harshly refuses, Falco changes her mind when he reminds her of her boy, who is attending military school.

The reason Falco lures the columnist to his apartment is so that the columnist can print an article in his paper the following day smearing Susan's fiance. It is this particular columnist who is of interest since he is as far removed from Hunsecker as possible. Susan is clearly unconvinced, however, that Falco and Hunsecker are not involved. From here, the situation begins to unravel, reminding me eerily of the poor plan that led to most characters' downfalls in the film Fargo.

I often look at films through the eyes of playwrights Shakespeare and Sophocles. Their tragedies were not all that different. Sophocles was more about characters without choice, a "predestined" tragedy if you will. Shakespeare clearly gave his characters choices before the tragedy became inevitable. However, if you think about it, Sophocles focused his tragedies after the choices were made. He was more interested in the repercussions of those choices than the choices themselves. In a way, Shakespeare was similar. While we certainly saw the chain of events that led to Macbeth's downfall, Shakespeare frequently implemented foreshadow in his earlier acts. There's a reason. It's the tragedy that makes the story real. It brings order to the characters desiring anarchy.

I look at Sweet Smell of Success as a Sophocles tragedy with a Shakespearean urge to restore order. Hunsecker and Falco have made their choices, and the film's story is the inevitable result of their choices. When Hunsecker strongly urges Susan to no longer see Steve after a most uncomfortable confrontation that included Steve, Hunsecker, and Falco, Susan agrees. But her agreement is one step toward her actual decision: suicide. Susan is fully aware that J.J. will not let go of his grasp. The noose is only tightening.

When Falco finds Susan just before she attempts suicide, Falco forces her down. His dialogue here is intriguing. He is trying to convince Susan of her immaturity, but I wonder if he's only trying to convince himself of this. He becomes more emphatic as Susan becomes more weary. Tony Curtis is especially convincing in this scene as he shows Falco as a man who is fully aware of his moral vacuum. However, he has become so entrenched in this lifestyle that he cannot convince himself to remove himself from it.

This character-character relationship is no stranger to film. Think of the two main characters in Martin Scorsese's The Departed. Working undercover for one of the two sides, both men become enraptured in the environment they are faking. Soon they seek that side's approval. I can't help but wonder if Falco has suffered the same fate, only much more thoroughly.

The stinging realism of the film's plot is complemented by remarkably noirish dialogue. Nearly every line of the film is memorable for its one-linerish qualities. Hunsecker calls Falco a "cookie full of arsenic". Falco tells the rival columnist, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. And that gives you a lot of leeway." "Light me, Sidney." The dialogue is brilliant because of its stinging truth under its outlandish surface. Falco's lines are full of truth. "I never thought I'd make a killing on some guy's integrity." "A press agent eats a columnist's dirt and is expected to call it manna." And Hunsecker realizes the filth he is involved with or responsible for: "I love this dirty town." "Well, son, it looks like we have to call this game on account of darkness." "My right hand hasn't seen my left hand in thirty years."

The dialogue is what sets this film apart from other films of its kind. Sweet Smell of Success is obviously a noir, but in a sense it is written like Shakespeare. Full of words and sentences that sound made up as they go along. If words or sentences don't come to mind to describe a situation, they make up new ones. The dialogue is surreal, but it amplifies the harsh realities that the words are describing.

One can't help but wonder the motives behind J.J.'s desire to break up her sister's relationships. When I first saw the film, I was convinced it was J.J.'s desire for power over everything he knew, even his family. However, after reading some reviews and discussing with friends, the idea was planted in my mind that incestuous feelings were involved. When I saw the film the second time, I was completely convinced of this. However, each viewing since has found me less convinced. Now, I think it's more of a sense of control: more like a brother wanting to be a commandeering father. While I still get the small impression of highly repressed incestuous feelings, I get just as strong feelings for maybe even some homosexual tension between Falco and Hunsecker. But I think the bigger themes of the film dictate that the sexual tension is at most a secondary thought. It's the search for power at the cost of everything else that is the focus of this film. I tend to think of most art in the realms of "Keep it simple, stupid."

The film was directed by Alexander Mackendrick and written by Clifford Odets and Ernest Lehman based on Lehman's novel. Mackendrick is a relative unknown (perhaps best otherwise known for The Ladykillers). But his work here is unquestionably masterful. He focuses on the characters at the expense of artistic landscaping. His approach is matter-of-fact, cold, and bold. The dialogue is the artistic element, bringing in that sense of a realistic void only barely masking the true harshness of the story's proceedings.

The film concludes with Susan finally hearing what she always knew, J.J. selling Falco out, and J.J. losing the very thing he hoped to attain. The ending is just as harsh and unflinching as the film's build-up. All ties are cut. It is the unavoidable conclusion from the bond of two things that need each other so much that they become too close in their mutual relish of blood and tears. A satellite eventually falls to the Earth and goes out in one final blaze of glory.

But the blackness is always there. Empty space. Susan lived there, but she finally realized that the space was independent of the Earth and the satellite. As she walks away, I find it quite Shakespearean. Order is restored by showing a new perspective on the same three entities. Susan succeeded because she didn't need either Falco or Hunsecker. The two of them lost because their interdependence was their very mutual weakness.