The Sting is a pleasure, from its use of Scott Joplin ragtime compositions to its con-man complications to the easy camaraderie of its two stars. Together again a few years after Butch Cassiday and the Sundance Kid—and reuniting with director George Roy Hill—Paul Newman and Robert Redford play a pair of grifters planning and executing an elaborate scam in Depression-era Chicago. Redford is almost too pretty for the proceedings, while Newman—already comfortably gray—rumples believably in the early scenes, then polishes up quite nicely when he poses as a gambling-den impresario. An early scene where he pretends to be belligerently drunk at a poker game in order to hook their target is a perfect example of how a star can shine brighter with a little smudge. (Also entertaining? Jaws’ Robert Shaw as the racketeer they hope to dupe, a killer with his own “lifeless eyes.”) Admittedly, there is a bit of an old-timey air to The Sting that makes it hard to take too seriously (and sadly there’s very little for any women to do), but the film otherwise had enough to dazzle the Oscars. It won seven awards, including Best Picture and Best Director.
(2/21/2023)
