Movie Review: Farewell, Friend starring Alain Delon and Charles Bronson (1968)

Charles Bronson and Alain Delon. This picture just radiates coolness.

If you put French icon Alain Delon and American tough guy Charles Bronson together, you would expect some serious fireworks on the screen. That’s exactly what we get in the slick 1968 thriller Farewell, Friend. In French, the title is Adieu l’ami, and when the movie was finally released in the US in 1973, it was given the title Honor Among Thieves. But whatever the title, the movie is a fun piece of entertainment.  

In 1968, Alain Delon’s career was well established in France. After spending a disappointing year or so in Hollywood in 1964-65, Delon was now in the middle of an astonishing run of hits in France. Delon was making three movies a year, and they were all successful at the box office. In 1967 he was in The Last Adventure, Le Samourai, and Diabolically Yours. 1968 saw the release of Spirits of the Dead, The Girl on a Motorcycle, and Farewell, Friend. 1969 gave viewers La Piscine, The Sicilian Clan, and Jeff.  

Charles Bronson had a much longer road to establish himself as an actor than Delon did. By 1968, Bronson had established himself as a star character actor in the classic ensemble action movies The Magnificent Seven, The Great Escape, and The Dirty Dozen. He had also played supporting roles in dramas like The Sandpiper, with Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, and This Property is Condemned, with Natalie Wood and Robert Redford. But Bronson had yet to headline a Hollywood hit all by himself. Part of this was no doubt due to Bronson’s unusual looks. If you look up “rugged” or “craggy” in the dictionary, you’ll find a picture of Charles Bronson. And while Bronson’s rugged, craggy looks might play great when surrounded by more conventionally handsome actors like Steve McQueen and James Garner, would Bronson really be able to carry a movie all by himself? Hollywood wasn’t quite sure.  

Farewell, Friend begins with Delon and Bronson meeting by accident as they are both finishing up their French military service. Bronson was part of the Foreign Legion, and Delon was a doctor. It feels fitting to use the actor’s names rather than their characters, since they are essentially playing their star personas. Both Delon and Bronson are able to do so much acting while doing so little physically, and with minimal dialogue. They are both great examples of effective movie acting. 

Delon is helping the girlfriend of his friend who was killed in the Army, played by the lovely Olga Georges-Picot. She enlists Delon’s help in trying to break into a company’s safe to put some missing documents back into the safe. But the fool-proof plan hits some snags—the camera that she promised would take photos of the seven-digit combination to the safe only has clear photos of three of the numbers. Delon is prepared to stay in the basement during the Christmas holiday weekend and try all of the possible combinations to the safe. But guess who keeps showing up, just like a bad penny, huh, doc? That’s right, it’s Bronson.  

Bronson and Delon are now locked in the basement with the safe, and they have to avoid the security detail, which comes around every 12 hours. Bronson doesn’t believe Delon’s protestations that he’s only going to put documents into the safe and not take any money out of the safe. The tension ratchets up when they fall asleep and aren’t able to escape from the vault before the security detail comes. Now they are locked in with the safe, with seemingly no chance to escape until several days later, when the workers will return from the Christmas weekend. The increasing heat in the room compels Delon and Bronson to take off their shirts, a sight that no doubt pleased female audience members. It’s been a while since I’ve seen The Great Escape, so I had forgotten how massive Charles Bronson’s arms were—he obviously spent some time at the gym.  

There’s a great shot where we see Bronson and Delon’s feet start walking in unison—the two men become one. Thus continuing the theme of doubles that runs throughout Delon’s filmography: Plein Soleil, La Piscine, Spirits of the Dead, Le Cercle Rouge, Mr. Klein.  

Bronson and Delon were like opposites in appearance—Delon with his delicate, almost feminine prettiness, and Bronson with his rough, craggy features. But they were both intense, magnetic performers: you can’t take your eyes off of them on the screen, no matter what they are doing.  

Farewell, Friend was yet another heist movie for Delon. The heist sequence is probably even longer than the 30-minute-long heist in Le Cercle Rouge. But while the heist in feeling cold and uninvolved, I thought the heist in Farewell, Friend was tense and exciting. The viewer knows that the stakes are high for Delon and Bronson’s characters, and that lends the sequence a tense excitement. The late 1960’s art direction and set decoration is fantastic as well, creating a memorable maze-like basement where Delon and Bronson are stuck.  

Farewell, Friend would alter Charles Bronson’s career by providing him with a huge hit in Europe and proving that he could be a leading man. Later in 1968, Sergio Leone’s classic Once Upon a Time in the West would further elevate Bronson’s standing among European audiences. Bronson would become one of the most popular American actors in Europe, especially in France. Starring almost exclusively in action movies, Bronson forged a long and fruitful career.  

Delon and Bronson appeared together again in Red Sun, a 1971 spaghetti western that also starred Toshiro Mifune, Ursula Andress, and Capucine. That’s on my list of movies to watch.  

The Kino Lorber Blu-Ray of Farewell, Friend features an interview with the director, Jean Vautrin. Vautrin started out directing short films, then moved into full-length features. In the mid-1970's, Vautrin stopped directing, but continued writing screenplays and novels. Vautrin also directed Alain Delon in 1969’s Jeff. Vautrin talks in the interview about what a difficult time he had with his two stars on the set of Farewell, Friend. Vautrin said that Bronson was mainly dismissive of the French—when he felt that the set was too flimsy, he broke off a piece of the vault and slammed it on the floor. Hopefully Bronson’s attitude improved as he made more films in France. Vautrin never got along well with Bronson. Vautrin described Delon as a mercurial presence, who was often withdrawn and introspective, but could sometimes be the personification of charm. That doesn’t really surprise me too much. In a way I would be disappointed if Alain Delon was a perfect angel on every film set he was on. I can’t imagine that an actor would be capable of the great, brooding performances Delon gave without having some of that melancholy in his soul.  

Farewell, Friend is also notable for being the second film to showcase Charles Bronson’s iconic mustache. The first film that Bronson had a mustache in was Villa Rides, filmed just before Farewell, Friend. But Farewell, Friend shows Bronson looking like how I always picture him: long hair, almost Beatle-esque, but always with a few strands askew, and his signature mustache, with a little gap in the middle of it.  

Farewell, Friend is a fascinating little movie, and fans of Alain Delon and Charles Bronson should check it out.  

Movie Review: Sweet Smell of Success, starring Tony Curtis and Burt Lancaster (1957)

Tony Curtis and Burt Lancaster in Sweet Smell of Success, 1957

Sweet Smell of Success, starring Tony Curtis and Burt Lancaster, is a classic film noir portrait of New York City in the 1950’s. Despite not being a success on its initial release in 1957, the film has gone on to become recognized as a classic, and it features two Hollywood legends delivering amazing performances.  

Burt Lancaster was one of the first actors to form his own production company, Norma Productions, in 1948, which eventually became Hecht-Hill-Lancaster. Starting his career in the post-war era, Lancaster didn’t want to be tied down to one studio—he had contracts with producers Mark Hellinger and Hal Wallis, but Lancaster was never a contract player at a studio the way many actors of the 1930’s and 1940’s were. Forming his own production company was an opportunity for Lancaster to achieve more independence in his film work. Sweet Smell of Success was developed and produced by Hecht-Hill-Lancaster and distributed by United Artists. The end credits also tell us that the movie was a Norma Production, as well as a Curtleigh Production, the company that Tony Curtis formed with his then-wife Janet Leigh.   

Sweet Smell of Success focuses on the denizens of Broadway at night. Curtis plays Sidney Falco, a press agent who is chagrined that his clients have been shut out of J.J. Hunsecker’s newspaper gossip column for several days in a row. Hunsecker had ordered Falco to break up Hunsecker’s sister’s relationship with a jazz guitarist, but Falco failed at this. We watch as Falco tries to slither his way back into Hunsecker’s good graces.  

There’s a lot of buildup to Hunsecker’s appearance in the film, and Burt Lancaster does not disappoint. As Hunsecker, Lancaster fires his lines like missiles, making it unmistakably clear that he is in charge. Lancaster was able to vary his looks remarkably from film to film. Lancaster was only 43 years old when he played Hunsecker, and one of the most handsome and attractive movie stars, but he’s not attractive as Hunsecker. Lancaster didn’t achieve this transformation through makeup; it’s all done through his acting, and the browline glasses that he wears. The legendary cinematographer James Wong Howe lit Lancaster’s face so his glasses become almost like a shield, protecting him from the rest of the world. Hunsecker is often filmed from below, which just magnifies Lancaster’s imposing physical presence, and his impossibly broad shoulders.  

I’ve always been impressed with the way that Lancaster could change according to the role he was playing. Think of him in movies like The Rainmaker and Elmer Gantry: his charisma is cranked up to 11; he commands your attention. But in movies like Sweet Smell of Success, he’s able to turn that remarkable charisma off. He still commands your attention, but in a totally different way. It’s one of the reasons why I find Burt Lancaster to be such a great actor.  

Tony Curtis gives perhaps the best performance of his career as Sidney Falco. Curtis was an extremely handsome man, with thick dark black hair and piercing blue eyes, and Sweet Smell of Success might be the absolute peak of his handsomeness. Curtis wanted to prove that he was more than just a pretty face, and Sweet Smell of Success was the perfect opportunity for him to show off what he could do. Curtis and Lancaster were both New Yorkers: Lancaster grew up in Harlem, Curtis in the Bronx. They knew the characters they were playing and the world they inhabited, giving their performances an extra bit of effectiveness.  

Lancaster and Curtis had previously teamed up for the 1956 movie Trapeze, which also starred the lovely Gina Lollobrigida. Trapeze was one of the highest-grossing films of 1956, a Technicolor spectacular about life in the circus, with Lancaster, who had worked as a circus acrobat, doing most of his own stunts. It’s hard to imagine two films more different from each other than Trapeze and Sweet Smell of Success.  

Sweet Smell of Success was based on a novella by Ernest Lehman. The screenplay was written by Clifford Odets, who had been a hugely successful playwright during the 1930’s, but whose reputation was tarnished by his 1952 testimony before the House Committee on Un-American Activities. Odets was writing the script as they were shooting it. Gary Fishgall wrote in his biography of Lancaster, “Final edits were made on the set, with the producers, the director, and the actors participating.” (Against Type: The Biography of Burt Lancaster, p.161) Considering the chaos around the filming, it’s remarkable that the movie turned out as well as it did.  

Adding to the cost of the production was director Alexander Mackendrick, whose painstaking perfectionism played a pivotal role in the budget ballooning to $2.6 million, a huge amount of money for a black and white film noir that was only 96 minutes long. (Cost of the movie from Fishgall, p.163)  

The movie features an excellent soundtrack by Elmer Bernstein, as well as music from the Chico Hamilton Quintet. In the movie, Martin Milner plays Steve Dallas, a jazz guitarist who is part of Hamilton’s Quintet. According to Wikipedia, Sweet Smell of Success was the first movie to spawn two separate soundtrack albums: one with Bernstein’s score, and the other with Hamilton’s music.  

Hunsecker’s newspaper column, titled “Eye on Broadway” features a closeup of Lancaster’s eyes behind his glasses, and it reminded me of the all-seeing eyes of Dr. T.J. Eckleburg from The Great Gatsby. The eyes in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s novel are found on a billboard, and we don’t see the rest of the face, only the glasses and the eyes, just like in Hunsecker’s column. There’s also the similarity of names: J.J. Hunsecker, T.J. Eckleburg, both initials followed by a last name dominated by the sound of “eck.” In Gatsby, George Wilson compares the eyes of Dr. T.J. Eckleburg to the eyes of God, and that’s an apt comparison to the eyes of J.J. Hunsecker, who is the God of his domain on Broadway—Hunsecker is all seeing, all knowing.  

There’s another curious connection to The Great Gatsby in Sweet Smell of Success. In the film, there’s a comedian that Hunsecker mentions in his column. Seeing the column before it runs in the newspaper, Falco goes to the theater to meet the comic in order to persuade him to hire Falco as his agent. The comic is played by Joe Frisco, a vaudeville comedian who is mentioned by name in The Great Gatsby. At the party scene at Gatsby’s house at the beginning of Chapter 3, this sentence appears: “Suddenly one of these gypsies in trembling opal seizes a cocktail out of the air, dumps it down for courage and moving her hands like Frisco dances out alone on the canvas platform.” (p.45) Coincidence, or a deliberate reference? I don’t know, but both Gatsby and Sweet Smell of Success share as a key theme the rotting core of American capitalism.  

Another excellent performance in the movie is given by Susan Harrison as Susan Hunsecker, J.J.’s much younger sister. Presumably Mama and Papa Hunsecker have shuffled off their mortal coils, as J.J. is Susan’s guardian, and she lives with him. J.J.’s interest in his sister’s love life, and his attempts to break up her relationship with Steve Dallas, are frankly just kind of weird. Lancaster and Harrison play it perfectly, so without anything too sordid being revealed, the viewer just feels this off-kilter sense of unease about J.J.’s obsession with Susan. And viewers should note the huge 8x10 glamour photo of Susan that adorns J.J.’s desk at his home office. Harrison did a great job, and I was surprised to learn that she only made one other movie, a 1960 film called Key Witness with Jeffrey Hunter and Dennis Hopper.  

Sweet Smell of Success was released in July 1957, and for fans of Curtis and Lancaster it must have come as quite a shock to see these actors playing such unheroic characters. For Lancaster’s fans it must have seemed like whiplash, as only a month earlier, Gunfight at the O.K. Corral was released. Starring Lancaster and Kirk Douglas, Gunfight was an excellent Western, but a very different movie from Sweet Smell of Success. In Gunfight, Lancaster plays heroic, stoic Wyatt Earp, a far cry from the amoral J.J. Hunsecker. I know that back in 1957 studios didn’t pay so much attention to release dates, but Sweet Smell of Success just doesn’t feel like a summer movie—I would have released it in the fall if I had been making the decision.  

There are many great lines throughout the movie, and one of the best is Hunsecker’s line to Falco: “I’d hate to take a bite out of you. You’re like a cookie filled with arsenic.” That’s an apt description of the movie itself.