The phrase “they don’t make them like they used to anymore” is such a hackneyed, misguided sentiment, since regardless of what medium we are discussing, it assumes that it consisted of static artists defined by a singular period, rather than looking at it at as a holistic, sprawling and ultimately dynamic entity that was constantly shifting. Yet, the nostalgia we feel for certain eras, particularly when it comes to cinema, can sometimes impact our overall reaction to more modern works. Smart filmmakers craft work that is both intrinsically tied to a specific era in terms of narrative and detail, but are also timeless in different ways – and those who are able to do so through the guise of a period film are even more brilliant. George Roy Hill is not often discussed when it comes to the great Hollywood directors – he certainly had an abundance of gifts, and was far from merely a journeyman filmmaker who made a few well-received films. Instead, he was the versatile master behind some of the great motion pictures of the 1960s and 1970s, an ingenious and creative master of his craft who was consistently pushing boundaries in subtle but meaningful ways. Many consider his crowning achievement to be The Sting, in which he travels back to Chicago in the 1930s, telling the story of two con men who decide that their next victim will be a notorious crime boss, their intention being to conduct a detailed act of grifting that will not only draw on every skill they have but ultimately fleece their nemesis of everything he had, both as a way to get rich very fast and as a means to prove that they can pull it off by defying the odds and outsmarting someone whose entire career has been defined by fooling others for his advantage. A classic produced at a crucial moment in the industry’s history, and overall just a terrific film in terms of both form and content, The Sting is an absolute triumph and remains as compelling today as it was over half a century ago when audiences were first introduced to these characters and their quirky misadventures.

The success of a film like The Sting cannot be attributed to one quality over the others. Instead, it is an example of a truly collective effort, whereby absolutely every contribution from each department was entirely vital to the success of the film, Hill’s responsibility was not merely to be a director, but rather to be something of a conductor, shepherding all these different elements produced by this cinematic orchestra together, creating this vibrant and engaging work of art. Starting at the conceptual level, we find the screenplay by David S. Ward being the foundation for what was soon to become a classic of the period. Drawing inspiration from the lives of committed career criminals and grifters who operated at a very specific time in history, Ward cobbles together quite an intriguing story that is designed to subvert many expectations and create a very particular atmosphere. The Sting is a film that is difficult to categorize entirely – what we expect to be quite a straightforward drama turns out to be a deft blend of dark comedy, satire, psychological drama and historical adventure, with the screenplay weaving them all together with such precision and genuine complexity. It’s a unique film, albeit one that wears its heart on its sleeve and doesn’t waste even a moment with unnecessary material, instead focusing on establishing a specific tone from which some of the most intriguing elements can begin to take shape under the careful direction of a filmmaker whose forthright commitment to this material resulted in a tremendously entertaining work that is not always comprehensible (we’re not supposed to understand the intricate details of the con, but rather just be able to follow its intentions as a whole) but is thoroughly entertaining in a way that is genuinely very compelling, much more than we may have expected had this material even slightly veered in a different direction.

As a film that was aiming to be a layered experiment in genre and narrative, certain elements needed to be kept consistent to prevent it from going in too many different directions. Despite its simplicity in terms of how it executes its ideas, there are many complex elements embedded in The Sting, and we find that the most appropriate way to anchor everything is through casting the right actors to bring these roles to life. The smartest decision was to reunite Paul Newman and Robert Redford, who had previously collaborated with the director on the now iconic buddy western Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, which is often considered one of the greatest westerns of its era, giving the trio the chance to travel to another point in the past and spin yet another unforgettable yarn, this time travelling to the 1930s and focusing on the United States as it endures the early stages of The Great Depression, albeit with a far more positive outlook. Neither Newman nor Redford require an introduction, nor do they need us to waste time acknowledging their talents. Few actors have ever worked together with more ease than them, and their pairing (while obvious, based on the fact that they were two of the most profitable stars at the time) was sheer perfection. They both bring unparalleled levels of charisma and candour to the screen and turn in performances that are genuinely some of their best, playing off each other with incredible honesty and genuine empathy, to the point where every moment they are on screen feels like an authentic friendship, which was reflected in their own experiences. If there was ever a need to see a film driven almost entirely by the sheer charisma of its leads, The Sting would be a perfect candidate, since even with a great concept and excellent direction, it is these two performances that tend to stand out, leaving the most sincere impression.

The Sting is as much about the writing and performances as it is the precise execution, and Hill makes sure that every frame of this film, both visually and aurally, is accurate and evokes a certain period, which is directly related to the story at the heart of the film. Ultimately, there isn’t any reason why The Sting had to take place in this particular time and place – grifters have always existed, and there’s nothing special about Chicago in the 1930s as a setting, outside of the allusions to the height of a very specific kind of organized crime. However, there’s something about turning this mostly timeless story into an extremely fascinating period piece – not only does it allow for a more exuberant, off-the-wall celebration of the past that will make audiences nostalgic for an era the majority of us never got to witness (one of the great advantages of being a filmmaker is the ability to instil such a powerful emotion in the viewer), but it also proves to be a masterfully directed film as a whole. Hill had a keen eye for detail, and everything from the set and costume design to the score (which was orchestrated by the iconic Marvin Hamlisch, who in turn works from the Great American Songbook, primarily drawing on compositions by the vitally important Scott Joplin, whose “The Entertainer” has remained culturally significant almost entirely for its use in this film, serving as its unofficial theme) was impeccably produced. Much like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, the success lies in the smallest and most seemingly inconsequential details, which are rarely (if ever) acknowledged as being so wildly impressive – and the fact that we sometimes don’t even notice the amount of work that went into creating this film proves that everything blends with a kind of authenticity that is almost impossible to mimic, proving just how exceptionally gifted a filmmaker Hill was, and why this is perhaps his greatest film from both a narrative and directorial standpoint.

Over fifty years later, The Sting remains a masterpiece, and despite having been made several decades, and set even earlier, it carries a resonance that is impossible to concoct without the right balance of strong writing, exceptional directorial prowess and genuine compassion for the characters. In this film, the boundary between good and evil is far less easily defined, and we find characters bleeding over the borders in ways that are extremely interesting and could be the subject of entire psychological case studies into the nature of heroism, and whether anyone can be entirely virtuous or villainous. Hill was one of our great directors, and The Sting is appropriately seen as his best film, or at least the one that proved his exceptional skills on a much larger scale. Hilarious and irreverent, while also being genuinely very moving and honest in how it explores the trials and tribulations of two career criminals, layering on conversations around themes such as poverty, friendship and the historical milieu in which the film takes place, it proves to be quite an impactful piece of cinema. It’s a wonderfully eccentric film, anchored by career-best work from Newman and Redford (and we’d be remiss to not at least mention Robert Shaw as the film’s snarling villain, as well as Thomas Earl Jones in a small but impactful role as a friend and confidante to the protagonists), and driven by a sincere desire to do something different with seemingly simple material. It’s an absolute triumph, and unquestionably one of the best films of the 1970s, a watershed moment for this era of intelligent and eccentric cinema.