1973: The Sting.

Con artists Henry Gondorff (Paul Newman) and Johnny
Hooker (Robert Redford) find themselves in a sticky situation...

Release Date: Dec. 25, 1973. Running Time: 129 minutes. Written by: David S. Ward. Producer: Tony Bill, Michael Phillips, Julia Phillips. Director: George Roy Hill.


THE PLOT:

Johnny Hooker (Robert Redford) is a talented small-time grifter who has learned from the best around in his Depression-era tenement: aging con artist Luther Coleman (Robert Earl Jones). After they swindle an unsuspecting mark out of $11 thousand, Luther decides it's time to retire, urging Hooker to use his talents to work "the big con."

Then disaster strikes. Their mark was actually working for a numbers running operation, and he was delivering that money to the ruthless Doyle Lonnegan (Robert Shaw). Soon Luther is dead, and Hooker is left on the run - and with a burning desire to avenge his murdered mentor.

He looks up Luther's old friend, Henry Gondorff (Paul Newman). Once a master confidence man, Gondorff is now hiding from the FBI after a job gone wrong. But he still has his skills, knowledge, and contacts, and Lonnegan has enough wealth to be a tempting target... as long as they can pull off a con that will not only part the criminal with his money, but also keep him fooled so that he doesn't go after them.

With Gondorff's circle of veteran con men assisting, it doesn't take long to set a scheme in motion. But complications await: A corrupt cop (Charles Durning) nurses a grudge against Hooker; an FBI agent (Dana Elcar) is closing in on Gondorff; and Lonnegan's hit men are getting ever nearer. The smart thing to do would be to call the whole thing off - but that's the one thing Hooker isn't willing to do, regardless of the consequences.

Hooker baits Doyle Lonnegan (Robert Shaw).

CHARACTERS:

Gondorff: "Revenge is for suckers. I've been grifting thirty years, I never got any." By this point in his career, Paul Newman was moving toward character roles. He doesn't so much act the role of Gondorff as inhabit him, which perfectly suits the way the script treats the character. The viewer is never told who Gondorff is, but is instead left to observe him. What we see is a sort of grifter general, assigning roles to the various soldiers in his team. He watches events unfold, making notes about what problems will need solved. He's an excellent judge of character. He senses Lonnegan's weakness is his pride, and he exploits that by repeatedly insulting and belittling him over the game of poker that is the con's "hook." He also senses that Hooker isn't telling him everything, and he chides him for that: "You can't play your friends like marks."

Hooker: The main character, Hooker isn't a complete neophyte. He may be a small time grifter, but he's talented enough that Luther urges him to look up Gondorff. This makes him enough a part of the grifting world for it to be believable that he's a key part of the big con, but also enough of an outsider for Gondorff and his friends to relate exposition about their planned swindle to us through him. He's the character with the biggest emotional stake in the story. Gondorff was also Luther's friend, but he scorns the very idea of revenge, while Hooker is driven by a need to do something to Lonnegan, wanting to con him because "I don't know enough about killing to kill him."

Lonnegan: Robert Shaw is one of those mystifying cases of a great actor who appeared in multiple classics, and who somehow never won an Oscar. Lonnegan could have been a two-dimensional baddie, but Shaw puts layers into his malevolence. There's genuine menace in his glare, his growling voice, and even his movements, as if his every waking moment is a struggle to hold himself back from direct violence. Pride is his defining trait and his biggest weakness. This is a man who likely endured a plethora of insults in his youth, and he reacts angrily to even the suggestion of an insult now. He insists on killing Hooker less because he's worried about seeming vulnerable, even though that's the motive he claims, and more because he, himself, cannot abide the thought of having lost to "one lousy grifter."

Lt. Snyder: Actor Charles Durning would play variations on this role a lot: a corrupt, none-too-bright authority figure. When Snyder learns about the score Luther and Hooker pulled off, he immediately shakes down the young con artist, demanding a share under threat of tipping off Lonnegan. Hooker foists him off with some counterfeit bills, earning the policeman's wrath for the rest of the picture. Snyder is regarded scornfully by everyone: Hooker, Gondorff's girlfriend (Eileen Brennan), and the FBI all blow him off as a fool - but his proximity to the con and his knowledge of Hooker mean that he's not a fool who can simply be ignored.

The Gang: Though they're supporting players, each member of Gondorff's inner circle receives a few choice moments to contribute not only to the title sting, but also to the film's entertainment value. Harold Gould's Kid Twist is a consummate actor, at one point showing up in overalls to pass himself off as a painter to get into a banker's office, then unzipping the overalls to emerge in a business suit to adopt the role of a timid executive. Ray Walston's J. J. Singleton is entertaining every time he appears, and I particularly enjoyed his glee as he talks about Lonnegan's habit of cheating at cards. John Heffernan's Niles looks like an office worker, and he's enlisted to the con while actually working in a bank. Jack Kehoe's Erie was another of Luther's students, and he is as eager as Hooker to contribute to bringing down Lonnegan. Cumulatively, these characters round out the cast and help to bring this world to life.

Hooker and Luther (Robert Earl Jones) discover just how big a score they've made.
They don't realize how dangerous an enemy they've made at the same time.

THOUGHTS:

As much as I enjoy The Sting - which is a lot - it would not have been my choice as 1973's Best Picture. The Exorcist was just as meticulously produced and just as well acted, and it was clear even at the time that it was destined to leave a cultural impact. Even among films that weren't nominated, I'd point to Fred Zinnemann's excellent film of Frederick Forsyth's The Day of the Jackal, which more or less created the "lone assassin" subgenre as we know it. In my opinion, either of those titles would have been a better choice as Best Picture.

But as I've said before, another movie being more deserving doesn't represent a fault in the winning movie. The Sting is a great Hollywood entertainment. It features big stars at their most charming in a witty romp that creates excitement less through action than through expert plotting. It's the type of film that, after a viewing, almost demands a regretful sigh of, "They don't make them like that anymore."

It's been about twenty years since I last watched this, but I remembered the major twists. Given how much of this movie is built around double-crosses, reversals, and surprises, I had expected that it would lose something on rewatch. Oddly, I think I enjoyed it more this time around. The screenplay doesn't cheat. Each of the plot turns is carefully set up in a way that doesn't telegraph them for first-time viewers, but that is visible on rewatch. This makes it fun to spot these moments as they occur.

Gondorff's inner circle reviews information and plans their big con.

The script is superbly structured. It opens not with the con artists, but with the numbers operation, following the initial mark to his fateful encounter with Luther and Hooker. This allows the viewer to share the experience of being conned, with the viewpoint only switching to Hooker's after the money has changed hands. It also foreshadows what will happen next; we know before Hooker and Luther do that their ill-gotten cash is from organized crime, creating tension for the viewer even as the next couple of scenes provide exposition.

Luther steers Hooker to Gondorff, so that the veteran confidence man is expecting his new protégé even before the violence. The first sight of Gondorff is also the only time that he's completely unkempt, sleeping off a drunken stupor. The indication is that keeping a low profile, not engaging in cons, is leaving him directionless. As soon as he has a target, he becomes instantly sharper, his attitude and entire physical bearing changing from slovenly to focused. These scenes also establish that Gondorff is hiding from the FBI, laying groundwork for the FBI agent to enter the story in the final third.

I won't discuss more of the plot for fear of accidentally spoiling or hinting at things. I will say that there isn't any wasted space. Scenes are allowed to play out as long as needed, and there is a nice reflective moment just before the big finale. Still, every scene - including that moment of reflection - does something to advance the story.

Production values are impeccable, and the music score - composer Marvin Hamlisch's adaptations of Scott Joplin's ragtime compositions - elevates the sense of setting while being a perfect accompaniment to the action. All the individual pieces here are good, and they are put together to form a terrifically entertaining whole.

An establishing shot of 1930s Chicago displays the impeccable production values,
which are nowhere to be found in the ill-advised, cheap-looking sequel.

SEQUEL:

1983's The Sting II had a script from David S. Ward, the writer of the original film... and that's about all that can be said in its favor. I can't find a record of its budget, but I'm guessing it was much cheaper. In contrast to the original's production values, the sequel looks like a mid-1980s TV flick, and not even one of the event ones. Also, Paul Newman and Robert Redford are replaced with Jackie Gleason and Mac Davis as "Fargo Gondorff" and "Jake Hooker." I love Gleason, even if by the '80s his best days were behind him, but him as a recast for Newman is more than a slight head-scratcher.

Likely sensing the flack they would get for the downgrade, the studio attempted to publicize these as new characters - but given that they had the same basic personalities and relationships, and that the entire story revolved around Lonnegan (Oliver Reed, taking over for the late Robert Shaw) getting revenge for being conned, the claim doesn't stand up to much scrutiny.

It opened to savage reviews, and I suspect it should stay as it is now: a mostly forgotten footnote that simply shouldn't have been attempted.

Hooker indulges in a moment of reflection on the eve of the big con.

OVERALL:

I don't really think it deserved the award, but I also don't mind that it won. It's rare that something lighthearted wins Best Picture, so it's always pleasant to encounter such a film in this review series. Besides, this is a very good picture, benefitting from an outstanding production, a terrific script, and fine actors who are all in top form.

Most of all, it's just a fun time at the movies.


Rating: 8/10.

Best Picture - 1972: The Godfather
Best Picture - 1974: The Godfather, Part II

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1966: A Man for All Seasons.

Sir Thomas More (Paul Scofield) is named Lord Chancellor
 - a promotion that will put him into conflict with his king!

Release Date: Dec. 12, 1966. Running Time: 120 minutes. Screenplay: Robert Bolt. Based on the stage play by: Robert Bolt. Producer: Fred Zinnemann. Director: Fred Zinnemann.


THE PLOT:

King Henry VIII (Robert Shaw) has a problem. He has failed to produce an heir with his wife, Catherine of Aragon. Henry is petitioning the Catholic Church to annul his marriage so that he may instead wed his mistress, young and fertile Anne Boleyn (Vanessa Redgrave).

Sir Thomas More (Paul Scofield), Henry's Lord Chancellor, is a great legal mind who is absolutely loyal to his king. He is also a deeply and sincerely religious man, however, and he cannot offer his support for the requested annulment. Henry reluctantly agrees that so long as More does not oppose him, he will leave him out of it. It's a promise he won't be able to keep.

When the Church refuses Henry's request, the king declares independence from Rome. Fearing for their own heads, the various cardinals and bishops swear an oath that renounces Rome and instead recognizes the king as Supreme Head of the Church.

More cannot do the same. He hopes to navigate his dilemma by relying on silence: "Silence is my safety, under the law... The maxim of the law is, 'Silence gives consent.'" But Chief Minister Thomas Cromwell (Leo McKern) sees his silence as a condemnation, "bellowing up and down Europe!"

With the king paranoid about possible treachery, his officials become resolved: Thomas More must be made to swear the oath - or, failing that, be made into an example!

More with his plainspoken wife, Alice (Wendy Hiller).

PAUL SCOFIELD AS SIR THOMAS MORE:

Paul Scofield's More is no willing martyr. He's a man of great wit, and there's a certain self-satisfaction that we glimpse when he turns a phrase just right. A lawyer as much by temperament as by training, words are important to him. He chooses his own with care and, when told of Henry's oath, immediately wants to know what the exact words are. If there's any vagueness, then he may be able to take the oath in good conscience: "An oath is made of words... If I can take this oath, I will!"

When he finds no such escape, he still clings to the law as his protection, trusting in its precedents to protect his silence. He breaks that silence only when the last crumb of hope has gone. Then Scofield gets a chance to briefly but memorably unleash all the anger and frustration that has been building in More.

It's a great performance that not only anchors the story, but that also makes human someone who, in other hands, might have seemed too perfect and thus too remote.

Robert Shaw as King Henry VIII: unpredictable and dangerous.

OTHER CHARACTERS:

Alice More: Wendy Hiller, as More's plainspoken wife, is less showy but just as critical to the movie's success. Uneducated and illiterate, she nevertheless understands what More does not. "You think they'll leave you here to think?" she scoffs, knowing full well what he does not: that the powerful will have what they want. Hiller is superb, particularly in her final scene, when she clings to her husband and shouts out her defiance of the king and his council.

Thomas Cromwell: The ever-reliable Leo McKern plays the most visible villain, the Chief Minister tasked with obtaining More's consent to the king's annulment and new marriage. Cromwell is introduced as a rival to More: another lawyer, well-versed in the law and cunning. But unlike More, he has no scruples. He attempts to twist past events. When that fails, he doesn't hesitate to suborn perjury. He uses his position to bully, first intimidating Robert Rich into telling him one of More's secrets and finally intimidating the jury into rendering a verdict without any pause for deliberations.

King Henry VIII: Though he only has two scenes of substance, Robert Shaw makes such an indelible impression that his Henry looms over the rest of the story. His introduction emphasizes him as unpredictable and dangerous. Making an impromptu visit to the More estate, he hops off his boat into mud - whereupon all of his retainers freeze in terror, relaxing only when he finally laughs. He is friendly toward More; but when More doesn't voice support for the annulment, he switches on a dime to paranoid ranting about "treachery" with a rage as unrestrained as it is unhinged. He calms just as quickly, promising to leave More out of it; but we already understand that this promise is meaningless, and that the threats and anger were a truer reflection of the man.

Cardinal Wolsey: Orson Welles is superb as Wolsey, Henry's right hand, right up until he fails him. Welles uses his girth and his prematurely aged visage to show Wolsey as corruption personified. He isn't merely corrupt, though. He's a man of intellect, possibly the only character who seems to be More's intellectual equal. He fears for the country if Henry has no heir, speaking of the relatively recent dynastic wars with "blood-witted barons ramping the country from end to end." This isn't baseless fearmongering, as that very spectacle was still something in living memory, and this early conversation establishes the stakes for both sides. We later learn that More was recommended as the next Lord Chancellor by Wolsey himself, and we're left to wonder: Was this an act of repentance by Wolsey; or was it one of revenge, thrusting a political foe into a position that he knew was impossible? 

Robert Rich: "Why Richard, it profits a man nothing to give his soul for the whole world. But for Wales?" If More is this story's martyr, then John Hurt's weaselly Robert Rich is its Judas. He's introduced as a hanger-on, clinging to More in hopes of securing a position. More offers him one: schoolteacher. But Rich wants the money, power, and influence attached to the court. When More tries to instruct him by gifting him with a goblet that was intended as a bribe, Rich focuses only on how much he can sell the cup for. Inevitably, he goes to Cromwell. He's initially unhappy about doing so, and Cromwell has to browbeat him into talking about the goblet. "You'll find it easier next time," the prosecutor promises - words that prove prophetic.

Cardinal Wolsey (Orson Welles) tries
to convince More to compromise.

A STORY OF OPPOSITION:

"When statesmen forsake their own private conscience for the sake of their public duties, they lead their country by a short route to chaos."
-Thomas More explains the reason for his inflexibility.

A Man for All Seasons is structured around opposition. From the first, we see Thomas More in verbal conflict with more powerful figures. Interestingly, though his peril grows throughout, his opponents become steadily less formidable.

The first man he faces is Cardinal Wolsey. As Robert Bolt writes him and Orson Welles plays him, he's every bit More's intellectual equal. Their conversation does critical expositional work, laying out the basic conflict and the stakes for viewers not familiar with the full historical context.

More interesting is the sense of two opposites: More, the man of conscience, and Wolsey, the man of politics. Wolsey, the pragmatist, is frustrated by More's inability to "come down to Earth," sneering that the other man would like "to govern the country with prayers." More believes that sacrificing conscience for pragmatism inevitably will end badly. Neither man can sway the other, but both speak persuasively in a way that invites audience respect.

The next is King Henry VIII. Robert Shaw plays him as pure predator, switching between charm and rage - with the rage coming across as the more authentic. When More's answers displease Henry, the king leaves his estate without taking his meal, and there's a sense that More has already crossed a perilous line.

The main antagonists of the second half are Leo McKern's blustery Cromwell and John Hurt's twitchy Robert Rich. Cromwell is a man of law, like More, and a capable one; but he's introduced as a lackey to Wolsey, and he is portrayed as slime throughout. John Hurt's Robert Rich is constantly nervous, a small man intimidated by the larger men surrounding him. Early in the movie, More enjoys more power and influence than either of them. They are not inherently fearsome figures.

Unless you're powerless, that is - and by the end of the movie, More is. The brilliant paragon of integrity is undone not by titans like Wolsey and Henry. He's undone by the selfish actions of petty men who are looking out for themselves.

Or, as More puts it:

"If we lived in a state where virtue was profitable, common sense would make us saintly. But since we see that avarice, anger, pride, and stupidity commonly profit far beyond charity, modesty, justice, and thought, perhaps we must stand fast a little."

Alice's farewell to her husband - The only scene
that managed to engage my emotions.

A GOOD FILM, BUT NOT A GREAT ONE:

I can't particularly argue with A Man for All Seasons' Best Picture win. It is a very good movie. Its stage origins show, in that it's very much a film of people talking in rooms... but in the hands of writer Robert Bolt, adapting his own play, it's a succession of scenes of wonderful dialogue delivered by superb actors.

There are fantastic speeches here: More's "devil" speech, in which he states that he would extend benefit of law even to the devil himself, because otherwise the law would protect no one; Cromwell's speech to Robert Rich, in which he observes that administrators like them are unpopular but important because they minimize "inconvenience"; More's urging Rich to forget about the corrupt court and instead become a schoolteacher, an area where he believes the other man would excel. More is a character who values words, and the words of A Man for All Seasons are its greatest asset.

And yet... I'm not particularly moved. I'm entertained. I enjoy the wordplay and the performances, and I love the way the film tells its story. But the only time I actually feel is in the final scene between More and his wife. The rest of the time, I'm appreciating the craft but I'm not particularly caught up in the drama.

More tries to teach Robert Rich (John Hurt) by showing
an attempted bribe. Rich learns the wrong lesson. 

REMAKES AND RETELLINGS:

Before it became a movie, A Man for All Seasons was adapted twice as a television play: once in 1957, with Bernard Hepton as Thomas More; and again in 1963, with Wyn Roberts.

In 1998, Charlton Heston, who had wanted the role in 1966, directed and starred in a cable television production. He surrounds himself with a fine supporting cast: Vanessa Redgrave, who had a cameo as Anne Boleyn in the 1966 film, plays More's wife in this version, while John Gielgud appears as Cardinal Wolsey. Roy Kinnear, in his last film role, plays "The Common Man," a sort of Greek chorus character from the play whose part was distributed to multiple bit parts in the 1966 film. It's more faithful to the original play than the 1966 film, but it also drags a bit, indicating that Bolt and Zinnemann were right to trim it in the first place. Also, while I usually enjoy Heston's acting, I don't think he's a good fit for More. He plays the speeches well - but while Scofield found the relatable human being underneath, Heston mainly just plays the Icon.


OVERALL:

A Man for All Seasons is a very good movie, and it's an entertaining one. It's well paced, and I was never bored across its two hours. Still, I can't make myself rate it as the equal of movies that have transported me into their worlds, involved me, or moved me.

This film provokes thought as it entertains, and I admire it for that. Even so, I find it doesn't engage my emotions as strongly it does my intellect. As a result, while I would definitely recommend watching this film, I can't make myself consider it a great one.


Rating: 7/10.

Best Picture - 1965: The Sound of Music
Best Picture - 1967: In the Heat of the Night

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