The Sweet Smell of Success (1957)

“The Sweet Smell of Success” sizzles with the best dialogue -- “You’re dead, son. Get yourself buried”-- ever put to screen, a funky jazz score by Elmer Bernstein, and a sleazy night-owl view of New York so vibrant, it burns the eyes. It’s a pitch-black film noir about corruption, fame and journalism run amok even more relevant in 2010. Tony Curtis is Sidney Falco, a soulless PR hack slaved to J.J. Hunsecker (Burt Lancaster), a famous/vile newspaper Winchell-like columnist who spreads lies, innuendo and pure bullshit, all wrapped up in false American patriotism. He’s the Glenn Beck of his day, his own God. Hunsecker won’t print Falco’s news unless the latter breaks up the columnist’s kid sister and her musician lover. Hunsecker, you see, wants his sister so damn bad. Perv. Spineless Falco obliges and suffers greatly. Lancaster makes one scary demagogue, while Curtis blows his role out of the water. You can see the lies form in his mind before they slither out his mouth. Alexander Mackendrick’s direction is razor sharp, and the Clif Odets/Ernest Lehman screenplay draws blood. A+