1973 @ 50: THE STING

Grifter Johnny Hooker cons the wrong guy and starts a mob hunt for him. He quits town after his partner, on the verge of going straight, gets hit. Cornered by the cops, Johnny hands over a big wad of funny money and runs so now the cop is after him, too. Johnny lands in Chicago, finding out that a silent boss Lonergan is responsible for his partner's slaughter and vows to avenge him with a big sting. To do this he drags long con master out of his hangover and they set to work on the biggest operation they've ever done.

It can take a lot of unravelling but the convolutions of the plot of this story of underworld justice is most of the fun in this movie. The major pull for contemporary audiences, though, was the re-teaming of Robert Redford and Paul Newman who'd had such celebrated success as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Also, this was an entry in the fad at the time of setting movies in the jazz age like The Great Gatsby, Paper Moon, Day of the Locust, a strange overreach of nostalgia that might have simply been the choice of film makers to allow behaviour long dropped in the bad bin. In the context of The Sting, with a little white washing and rough justice, was rendered cheeky rather than ugly. 

Made at a time when Redford as a bipedal men's grooming ad allowed him to look desirable rather than period correct, the clothes and cars look right, and the constant tinkly ragtime music works, but no one wanted to get their hair cut to early 20th century severity. This might seem like eye-rolling pedantry but it does testify to the glamour-first approach that is also borne by the soft beige pallet that pervades the frame. The grownup Norman Rockwell paintings that announce the chapters of the story act as a kind of mask to the anachronisms but also as a tip to disregard them. Hey, it's Redford and Newman again, lighten up.

That out of the way, the durability of this film largely rests on it reining in the loveable rogue or winking naughtiness that might have tainted every single scene: there is genuine danger of life and limb, however goofy the lower rung bad guys might be. Redford and Newman's nemesis Lonergan is played by Robert Shaw whose careful menace is constant and solid.

But it's early '70s star power that dominates here as we are invited to see the central duo as Redford and Newman more readily than Hooker and Gondorff. This can be used as its own advantage, considering some of the twisty corners they find themselves crammed into but as long as we know we are running with the big boys, sipping on prohibition martinis and packin' pieces, we're fine.

It's possible that the drama impedes a little too much on the comedy and the comedy never quite takes flight but that the film is meant to be taken in whole rather than as peaks between transitions like those early '70s albums without big singles or classic tracks but swathes of feel (e.g. Exile on Main Street). Not to say it isn't tightly plotted but that really only kicks in in the last ten minutes where it finally rises above the glittering duet. 

Faint praise for it's year's Oscar winner? Well it was up against The Exorcist which, even though I had no dog in that fight at the time, have since forever found scarcely credible. It feels so lightweight beside Friedkin's masterpiece. Friedkin was on a mighty roll at the time and would produce in 1978 The Brink's Job, not a con story but a heist and its aftermath more like the later Goodfellas than The Sting or The Thomas Crown Affair, sold absurdly as a jolly caper on its poster art. The Sting, with its art deco poster and buddied up success team feel antique now. It works but it works best if you let it roll and forget the comedy is inviting you to laugh with it. Sit back and enjoy the interplay of stars, careful plotting and big third act. Expect no more and you won't go short.