poison pen
by
Douglas Meserli
Ernest
Lehman and Clifford Odets (based on a novelette by Lehman), Alexander
Mackendrick (director) Sweet Smell of
Success / 1957
Roger Ebert’s 1997 review of Sweet Smell of Success summarized the
relationship between the two men quite perfectly:
The two men in "The Sweet Smell of
Success" relate to each
other like junkyard dogs. One is
dominant, and the other is a
whipped cur, circling hungrily, his tail
between his legs,
hoping for a scrap after the big dog has
dined. The dynamic
between a powerful gossip
columnist and a hungry press agent,
is seen starkly and without pity. The rest of
the plot simply
supplies events to illustrate
the love-hate relationship.
This time around, Hunsecker has sent
Falco out to break up the relationship between his beloved sister (with who he
has a festering, slightly incestuous relationship) and a young guitarist, Steve
Dallas (Martin Milner), perhaps best known for his childhood portrayal of a
young son in Life with Father and the
later TV series Route 66 and Adam-12, but in Sweet Smell of Success plays the lead performer in the Chico
Hamilton Quintet, which provided, along with composer Elmer Bernstein, this
film its memorable jazz musical themes.
Falco has so far failed in his attempts
to separate the timid Susan Hunsecker (Susan Harrison) when the film begins,
and J. J. makes it clear that if he doesn’t immediately get results Falco will
be, in the film’s parlance, “burnt toast.” And when Falco receives a hint from
Susan that she is about to announce her engagement to Dallas, the clever
publicist plots a new plan that involves nearly everyone in his creepy New York
world, where nearly everyone has already sold their souls to whatever they
define as “success.”
Falco, however, knows everyone’s secrets,
promising to help a 21-club cigarette girl, who having had a quick sexual fling
with another columnist, is in danger of losing her job. Falco’s blackmail
attempt, however, goes sour, when the guilty rival refuses to go along with his
request, that he plant an item in his column that Dallas is a dope-smoking
Communist; but another columnist is willing to use the piece if Falco hooks him
up for a fling with the same cigarette girl, Rita (Barbara Nichols), waiting in
Falco’s room for him to return home.
The columnist’s plant temporarily works,
giving Hunsecker a way to deny involvement and express his largesse by getting
the boy’s job, from which he is fired, back, while at the same time questioning
Dallas’ intentions. Dallas, who hates Hunsecker for his pretense and his phony
patriotism, gets sucked into an argument with the masterful wordsmith that ends
badly, with Hunsecker proclaiming that he cannot allow someone who calls him
and his readers into question—as if he, himself, was an American institution beyond
criticism. Susan, torn by her love of Dallas and her blind obedience to her
brother, remains mute, sealing the end to any happiness she might find in her
relationship with Dallas.
Yet, even here, with the possibility of
the couple’s reconciliation, Hunsecker insists Falco go for the juggler,
planting dope in the pocket of Dallas’ coat so that his stooge police friend,
Harry Kello (Emile Meyer), can take him in for questioning and, commonly, a
severe beating. Hunsecker appears to be willing to award Falco a brief tenure
at his own job—while he plans an ocean-liner voyage with his sister—for his
loyalty.
The last time we see the now-destroyed
publicist is in a long shot of a dark New York street, where we observe the
police moving towards him with the obvious intent on getting even.
Susan, finally regaining her voice,
determines to leave her brother forever as she rushes to the hospital bedside
of Dallas, revealing to Hunsecker that indeed she had contemplated suicide and
that Falco had saved her. Perhaps she now can save herself—although given what
he have observed throughout the film, we can only imagine that Hunsecker might
probably arrange for another “accident” to occur to either her or Dallas—but
surely hardly anyone else in this brilliant noir is still standing, unless you
see Hunsecker’s tottering hulk of body as a tower of implacable strength. And
in real life, Winchell was brought down by night host Jack Paar and hostess
Elsa Maxwell, along with his strong support of Joseph McCarthy.
The fact that this powerful Hollywood
drama was directed by Alexander Mackendrick, formerly director of the great
Ealing British comedies, Whiskey Galore!, The Lady Killers, and The Man in the White Suit, is quite
astonishing, and reveals, certainly, just how great Mackendrick might have been
given half a chance. His next project, The
Devil’s Disciple, got him fired, in part due to feelings by the producers
of this film (Hill-Hecht-Lancaster Productions) that he was too much of a “perfectionist.”
But given the restrictions of this film, wherein Odets was laboring over the
script as they were already shooting, and, the always quick emotional fuse of actor-producer
Lancaster, it appears that Mackendrick was somewhat of a magician in creating
such an unforgettable work, which was selected for inclusion in The National
Film Registry and has been highly touted by almost every critic since it first
premiered.
Los Angeles,
January 10, 2016
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