I’m fairly certain that I’ve mentioned before that one of my favorite TV shows ever is Lost. Fans of that unequaled drama know that the character of Sawyer is portrayed as the ultimate con man—at least that’s who he is when he lands on the island. In one particular episode in Season 2, Sawyer clues in his then-girlfriend and partner in petty scams, Cassidy (yup, like Butch Cassidy—incidentally, the focus of another Robert Redford/Paul Newman film), about how to run a “long con.” Sawyer gives Cassidy step-by-step instructions as the purported long con progresses—except (spoiler alert!) there’s a twist (of course): Cassidy is the long con. I could not get this Lost episode out of my head when watching The Sting this past week, for this is pretty much what The Sting is about: deception.

Now granted, there is also a lot of deceitfulness in last week’s BP, The Godfather; but within the first few minutes of The Sting, it becomes very clear that we are dealing with a much lighter film…at least on the surface. Where The Godfather appeals to the vulnerability of family ties and maybe even to the sympathies of people with complicated family issues, The Sting eliminates family all together. In place of the familial unit is comradeship, a bond formed by the interdependence that comes from one guy partnering up with another guy in order to cheat yet another guy out of his money so that the first guys can survive. Ah, the need to survive—that common human goal should permit us some leeway as far as our approval of people ripping other people off. However, other than Henry Gondorff’s job (if we can call it that) as a carousel operator, there isn’t really any mention or attempt by the characters to seek out lawful employment. Of course, The Sting is set during the Depression, which greatly limits the occupational opportunities of the characters, but are lying and stealing their only real options?

Setting up the long con in The Sting.

Let’s bring in the premise of another popular film, Ocean’s Eleven (1960/2001), and the idea of stealing from those who deserve to be stolen from. In The Sting, when Johnny Hooker’s partner Luther is killed by mob boss Lonnegan’s hitmen after Luther and Johnny unknowingly con a man delivering money to the mobster, Hooker enlists Gondorff’s (and others’) aid in his quest for revenge. But since Hooker admittedly “don’t know enough about killin’ to kill him,” the group settles on pulling off a long con with Lonnegan as the victim. This scheme to con another con man (of sorts) has its funny moments and is presented in a way that leads the viewer to root for Hooker, Gondorff, and company; but at the end of the film (spoiler alert!), there are still bodies to be accounted for, and more than a little blame can be placed on the film’s two “heroes,” Hooker and Gondorff. Like Ocean’s Eleven, therefore, The Sting comes off as a bit of a moral conundrum.

Executing the long con in formal wear.

For Me Then…

I think Ocean’s Eleven is extremely entertaining; and each time I see the film, I do find myself hoping that George Clooney—I mean, Danny Ocean—and his cohorts make the heartless Terry Benedict look ridiculous and leave him penniless. I was kind of feeling the same way with The Sting, except I couldn’t get those bodies off my mind. We viewers are supposed to feel that Hooker and Gondorff are morally superior to Lonnegan because they don’t resort to murder like he does to get what they want, but they still seem unfazed by the collateral damage that results from their scheming—scheming whose cause is just a good old thirst for revenge. Maybe running to the cops  for justice for Luther (which would also expose their own crimes) is hopeless since the police (namely, Lt. Snyder) are shown to be corrupt in this film. But essentially, corruption of authority or not, at the end of the film deceit is successful, revenge is glorious, and the fraternal goodwill that abounds among the conspirators doesn’t negate the fact that they will still be con men tomorrow and display no regrets about that. I mean, even Lost’s Sawyer, that ultimate con man, feels remorse when his cons succeed. So, lighthearted or not, what are we to take away from The Sting when its characters do not?