A reporter always loves a good story, whether it’s one they’re writing or one written about them. Despite it being a fairly uncinematic profession, the world of journalism has made its way into countless films over the years, possibly due to the affinity screenwriters have for the journalists they’ve written these types of movies about. A very recent example would be the just-releasedThe French Dispatch, an affectionate ode to the kind of reporting that goes on at a respected institution likeThe New Yorker. However, there’s a broad spectrum of how flattering big-screen depictions of the press have been, with everything from the despicable ginned-up journalism in Billy Wilder’sAce In The Holeto the illuminating heroism ofAll The President’s MenorSpotlight. WhileThe French Dispatchclearly sits on the latter end of the spectrum, on the most scathing, critical end of the spectrum is 1957’sSweet Smell of Success, a movie steeped in the world of Broadway tabloids that has the same delicious bite as a gossip column, even if it casts an unflinchingly cynical eye on it.
A fitting aspect of most movies about journalism is that if they’re not at least based on true stories of the press, they’re often based on real-life media personalities that shaped the news in addition to their readers’ psyche. The most famous example would beOrson Welles’Citizen Kane, based on the life of William Randolph Hearst, which causeda number of controversies detailedin last year’sMankas well as various other books and documentaries. Hearst was furious over the less-than-flattering portrayal inOrson Welles’ debut film and tried on multiple occasions to haltCitizen Kanefrom being released, despite it being (as you may have heard) a pretty decent flick.Sweet Smell of Successis a similar case, as the character J.J. Hunsecker (Burt Lancaster), whom most of the film revolves around, is heavily based on Walter Winchell, the influential tabloid columnist who pioneered the idea of turning journalism into entertainment, and thus paved the way for the TMZ’s of the world.
RELATED:How Billy Wilder’s ‘Ace in the Hole’ Remains Painfully Relevant 70 Years Later
Someone who had their share of run-ins with Walter Winchell wasErnest Lehman, who, before becoming one of Hollywood’s most successful screenwriters (penning the likes ofNorth by NorthwestandThe Sound of Music), worked for a New York press firm that focused on broadway and celebrities, working as a press agent similar to the oneTony Curtisplays inSweet Smell of Success. Not nearly as ambitious as Curtis’ character, Lehman got out of the press game after a few years before writing two short stories based on his experiences that would eventually be turned intoSweet Smell of Success. At first, Hollywood was afraid of adapting the stories, fearing a Hearst-esque backlash against the film from any powerful media personalities that Hunsecker bore resemblance to, especially Winchell. However, as Winchell’s career started to decline in the early ‘50s,Lancaster’s independent production company, Lancaster-Hect-Hill Productions, scooped up the rights without batting an eye.
After initially being interested in directing and writing the screenplay forSweet Smell of Success, Lehman became both frustrated with the production and ill with a bad stomach bug, so he handed the script over for a rewrite by accomplished playwrightClifford Odets. Large swaths of Lehman’s script were rewritten by Odets, who clearly took an interest in milking all of the script’s creative potential during an otherwise fallow period in his career. It’s in this combination of Lehman’s experiences with the underbelly of journalism and Odets’ penchant for crackling, acid-tongued dialogue that the film’s potential came to life. There are so many wonderful one-liners that come out of J.J. Hunsecker’s mouth — “I’d hate to bite into you. You’re a cookie full of arsenic”, “This syrup you’re giving out with… you pour over waffles, not J.J. Hunsecker.”, “You’re dead son. Get yourself buried”. It’s no wonder that there’s a character inBarry Levinson’sDiner(set in the same period) who can quote every line fromSweet Smell of Success. And the great thing about it is that the film’s dialogue doesn’t just feel clever for cleverness’s sake; Hunsecker’s zingers are just a natural extension of the zippy style in which he and the real-life gossip columnists he’s based on wrote in their papers.
One barrier thatSweet Smell of Successhas in terms of appealing to modern audiences is that it inhabits a very specific world, that of Broadway in the ‘50s, where press agents lobbied to have their clients' names in the papers of the most powerful columnists. It’s equally hard for a modern audience to grasp how powerful a newspaperman could be, but the film does an effective job in its opening, showing first the morning’s newspaper being printed before we see it being carried out on a truck that has the giant face of Lancaster’s J.J. Hunsecker on it. As we’re introduced to ambitious press agent Sydney Falco (Curtis), we hear Falco constantly talking about Hunsecker, trying his damnedest to get one of his clients into Hunsecker’s column. However, we soon find out how firmly Falco is in Hunsecker’s pocket, as J.J. has enlisted him to smear the man that J.J.’s sister Susan (Susan Harrison) is dating, basically just because he doesn’t like him. Having little regard for the genuine love between Susan and Steve (Martin Milner), an up-and-coming jazz guitarist, Sydney is happy to bribe another columnist to write a fake story about how Steve is a marijuana-smoking communist. It’s a scandal that no one would give two thoughts about if it was leveled at a celebrity today, but in the strait-laced and red-fearing era of the 1950s, it’s tantamount to career homicide.
At this point inSweet Smell of Success, it feels as if Sydney Falco is undoubtedly the most despicable character in the movie, as his scruples are non-existent and the people he uses as pawns (particularly the women in his life) clearly don’t deserve it. Yet, even he pales in comparison to what J.J. Hunsecker reveals himself to be after Steve hurls a series of insults at Hunsecker (which includes jabs toward his column) after he comes to the obvious conclusion that he was responsible for the smear. Taking it as a personal affront to himself and all his readers, Hunsecker plots to have Steve thrown in jail at the hands of a crooked cop, all because his ego is too gargantuan to take such insults. It’s at this point that Sydney bails on helping Hunsecker, being willing to go pretty far to kiss Hunsecker’s ring, but he won’t gothatfar.
You’d think that because both Curtis and Lancaster play such thoroughly unlikeable characters, the film would be unpleasant to watch. This may have been why the film didn’t connect with audiences when it was released, especially for fans of Curtis’s and Lancaster’s more commercial films who were let down by them playing characters who are anything but heroic. Yet, watching it now, it’s quite the opposite, as the film’s 96 minutes breeze by in a flurry of Odet’s playfully crisp verbal and moral sparring that captures an era of New York showbiz and journalism that, for better or for worse, no longer exists. In addition to Lehman and Odet’s script, the panache that Curtis and Lancaster bring to the roles reveal how much these stars were willing to shed their vanity in the name of a compelling narrative. It’s hard to imagine the movie would work nearly as well if you didn’t have two actors with movie star charisma making these journalistic bottom-feeders into the kinds of characters that you love to hate.
Apart from it being a joy to listen to the dialogue roll off these actors’ lips, the film is also surprisingly striking to look at despite being so talky. Oscar-winning cinematographerJames Wong Howebrings a noir-like darkness to the way the actors inhabit these nocturnal city streets, which well suits a film that’s a more sinister counterpoint to upbeat newspaper romps likeHis Girl Friday. The director,Alexander Mackendrick, a veteran of the dark comedies put out by Britain’s Ealing Studios (which includes the originalThe Ladykillers), also feels like a perfect fit to bring this amount of darkness and wit to the screen. It’s just unfortunate that Mackendrick isn’t quite viewed as an auteur, soSweet Smell of Successhasn’t been rediscovered quite as much as similarly cynical ‘50s movies about the media likeAce In The Holeor Elia Kazan’sA Face In The Crowd. Instead, what you have is a bunch of different talents intersecting at pivotal points in their careers with contributions that are sharper than a J.J. Hunsecker one-liner.
KEEP READING:The Washington Beat: ‘All the President’s Men’, 40 Years On
