Best Picture Winner: 1973

The Sting (1973)

The Sting is fluff but it is entertaining fluff. It looks pretty, goes down easy, and has no lofty pretensions. In 1936, grifter Johnny Hooker (Robert Redford) and his partners unknowingly con a numbers runner out of $11,000. The mob kingpin in charge, Doyle Lonnegan (Robert Shaw), orders all those responsible for the theft to be made an example of. Meanwhile, a crooked bunco cop (Charles Durning) shakes Johnny down for his share of the take. When one of his partners is killed, Johnny teams with Henry Gondorff (Paul Newman), master of the big con, to hit Lonnegan where it hurts: in the money belt.

Reuniting after their successful teaming in 1969’s Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Paul Newman and Robert Redford have a natural chemistry as master and pupil. They cut dashing figures in their 1930s duds, and are surrounded by a genial supporting cast that includes Ray Walston, Eileen Brennan, and Harold Gould. Even though there is violence and the constant threat of more violence, the whole enterprise is a rather breezy affair where the audience never really fears our heroes are in danger. There are attempts by screenwriter David S. Ward to throw a twist or two in the mix. But this viewer saw these coming, probably a product of viewing films or television show episodes (Remington Steele: "Sting of Steele” comes to mind) that ripped off The Sting before seeing the original model.

The whole tone of the film is jovial. These confidence men and women are confident, and they don’t break a sweat. Illustrated title cards breakdown the development of the con for the audience: the set-up, the hook, the tale, the wire, the shut-out, and finally, the sting. We are there every step of the way, and nearly everything goes as planned. When Lonnegan wants to meet Johnny’s contact at the Western Union station, the conmen arrange to “borrow” an office for a few moments by posing as painters. Rarely though does anything interfere with the game plan. That’s part of the film’s charm. But it’s also part of the film’s problem. In spite of the bloodshed and impending threats from gangsters and the authorities, there’s rarely any true tension. We know they’ll pull this off. We watch amused and entertained, but never worried. The ending is a foregone conclusion.

The Sting stands out among the 1970s Best Picture winners because it’s so upbeat and bright, even though it takes place in Depression-era Chicago. It’s a finely crafted entertainment whose lack of gravitas makes it a real crowd pleaser. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.