Nobody makes films
like this anymore.
Loud jazz by Elmer
Bernstein and the cynical noise of New York, Sweet Smell Of Success has 50s written all over it. Idiomatic
language, long dead but still as hard-hitting as it ever was.
‘You’re a cookie full
of arsenic’.
‘Not even if you
serve me Cleopatra on a plate’.
‘You have more twists
than a barrel of pretzels’.
‘The man in jail is
always for freedom’.
‘Your dear sounds
like dagger’.
Beautiful.
And oh the days when
you couldn’t play a negative character because your name was Tony Curtis.
Old-fashioned, insane, larger-than-life stuff.
