Ruse for ruse, stunt for stunt, The Sting is an exercise in undercover sneakiness. It proves beyond a doubt that revenge is a dish best served cold. When it came out in 1973, everyone clamoured to see it and it's gone on to become one of the most beloved pictures all of time. Ironically, it helped that it came out after gritty releases such as Midnight Cowboy in 1969 and the Godfather in 1972 won best picture honours. The depression-era piece proved both a box office and critical success, taking home 7 Academy Awards, including best picture, best score (Marvin Hamlisch) and best director for George Roy Hill. One interesting footnote is that Robert Redford got nominated for best actor (he lost that year to Jack Lemmon), and Paul Newman wasn't even nominated.
A big reason the narrative is so absorbing is the always changing nature of the fix for the viewer as well as the characters. At each step, the con unfolds to the point where it's hard to tell who's playing who. It generates big thrills; one doesn't know if the characters are throwing opportunities (or money) away in order to fry a bigger fish, if they've been caught at their own game, or if we're watching an unexpected scenario they simply hadn't counted on. Well, the joke's on the viewer, because after the first 10 or 15 minutes of the film, every phrase and every action belongs solely to the con men. It's kind of like watching James Bond -- we know he isn't going to get killed, but we want to see how he squirms out of every tough spot.
But that's part of the charm of The Sting. Once Paul Newman and Robert Redford team up, they are so cool. They may, at times, appear nervous as to whether their elaborate plan will actually work, but when they're interacting with their clueless victim Doyle Lonnegan (Robert Shaw), they're composed and in control. The movie opens with Johnny Hooker (Redford) accidentally pinching one of Lonnegan's goons with the help of fellow grifter Luther (Robert Earl Jones). When Luther is killed for his part in the heist, Hooker skips town and enlists the help of the infamous Henry Gondorff (Newman). They scheme up the ultimate sting for Lonnegan, because Hooker "don't know enough about killing to kill him". The set-up is a fictitious horse-racing operation run out of an abandoned building's basement. Along the way, there is a corrupt cop (Charles Durning) and a mysterious diner waitress played by Dimitra Arliss (who, pardon my superficiality, is truly ghastly, even by Robert Redford standards).
The style, tone and mood of the picture is hypnotic. Here, we're drawn into the shady world of poker, big stakes, and high rollers with effortless ease. It's got class, it's got suspense, and it's got moxy.
