
Your Tatler watched a corker of a picture last night, 1957’s Sweet Smell of Success, starring Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis, both of whom give the performances of their careers. One notable feature of this picture is there is not a single character with whom one may empathize, they are all simply awful people, but somehow utterly compelling as well, which obviously owes to the superlative acting of their creators.
Another marvelous feature of this movie that is at once grim and beautiful is the gorgeous photography by the legendary cameraman, James Wong Howe. You could probably turn the sound all the way down and still get thrills from just the watching, but then, in addition to the beautifully taut dialog, you would also miss Elmer Bernstein’s wonderfully fraught score.

Looking back at the New York of 1957, and your Tatler thinking of his post of a couple of days ago, it becomes obvious when watching this picture there was as much sleaze in the City 65 years ago as there was four years ago when your correspondent fled. The only defense he can muster when making this admission is to suggest the New York of 1957 offered a better class of sleaze.
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A postscript: some of the scenes in Sweet Smell of Success were shot in the legendary 21 Club, which perished during the idiotic COVID shutdown, along with many other fine and wonderful New York institutions.
21 held particular appeal for your Tatler. Whenever his Hollywood grandfather had business in New York, upon arrival he would usually head straight to Jack & Charlie’s (as it was known then), he, like so many other theater and movie people, regarding that splendid speakeasy as his base. What a sad and pointless loss.











