The Sting: An Ant’s Revenge

The Sting: An Ant’s Revenge

If, the first time you watch The Sting, you notice certain things—and you almost certainly will—that the story structure and some of its set pieces feel strangely familiar, that from the very first con you can already guess the outcome of certain scenes at a glance, then that only reflects the film’s greatness from another angle. As a movie released in 1973, The Sting became a trailblazer for its kind. Much of the familiarity we feel while watching it comes from having already seen the many later films that imitated it or paid tribute to it. In the climactic final stretch, I couldn’t help thinking of God of Gamblers’ Return starring Andy Lau and Nick Cheung: its last great reversal is almost exactly in the mold of The Sting. Even Robert Redford, at least in my impression, resembles Brad Pitt in both looks and temperament—but really, it should be said that the much younger Brad Pitt seems more like someone following in Robert Redford’s footsteps. In fact, for a long time before Brad Pitt became famous, people often said he was imitating Robert Redford. Some even spread rumors that Pitt was Redford’s illegitimate son, which says a lot about how similar the two appeared.

Back to the film itself: The Sting adopts a very clear, sectional way of telling its story. The entire movie is neatly divided into multiple segments, almost like a standard film textbook, providing material and models for actors and directors of different generations. Even though later films no longer used such explicitly divided chapters, they largely retained the same structural stability in plot construction and pacing. This made a tremendous contribution to the rapid development and flourishing of the film market. For viewers, although in the many years since the era of silent film—and even to this day—few movies have so clearly marked and announced each section in this way, understanding how the sections in The Sting are divided according to the needs of the narrative is extremely helpful for understanding cinematic storytelling and structure.

As for the plot, as the title suggests, the main line is a story about a group of con men taking revenge on a mob boss who killed one of their friends. If they tried to use force, this alliance of swindlers would be like eggs smashing against a rock. So they can only fight in their own way, organizing an elaborate large-scale con to strike back at the giant standing before them. Revenge is, of course, ultimately achieved, but the process twists and turns again and again. No matter how many stories or devices modeled after The Sting you may have seen, this film can still feel fresh. The planned con is the clear main thread, but woven through it are several hidden threads, and the brilliance of each setup can only be fully appreciated when it is finally revealed.

Of course, as a pioneering work, and because the genre was still immature, the film also has aspects that can be criticized. For example, the villain is designed a bit too simply. He appears powerful, but both his habits and his intelligence have serious flaws, to the point that he is completely manipulated by the alliance of con artists. Later films, having recognized this weakness, tended to create fuller characters—for instance by giving the ultimate big boss a dark backstory showing how he became what he is. So when evaluating a film made more than thirty years ago, it is only fair to compare it with works of its own era rather than with films made decades later. Viewed from that perspective, The Sting is nearly flawless. And besides, the two male leads—one older and suave, the other young and strikingly handsome—are so strong in both appearance and performance that even compared with films today, they hardly seem outclassed at all.