The graveyard of inferior stage musical adaptations of superior dramatic motion pictures is littered with misguided efforts. Many were poor and quickly forgotten; others were, and remain, intriguing if flawed. Sweet Smell of Success, the 2002 musical adapted from the 1957 Clifford Odets-Ernest Lehman-Alexander Mackendrick film noir classic, has been pulled from oblivion by Ted Sperling and his team at MasterVoices. One of those two-day, three-performance concert adaptations, this Sweet Smell is propulsively driven by the music and a 17-piece band, and it makes for an incrementally more satisfying affair than the original Broadway production.
Which is not to say that the musical by composer Marvin Hamlisch, lyricist Craig Carnelia, and bookwriter John Guare is altogether redeemed. The overriding flaw—the manner in which the Machiavellian antihero is humanized by giving him not only sentimental songs but a cornily old-fashioned song-and-dance turn in the 11 o’clock spot—once again scuttles the effectiveness of the whole. If ever there was a character who did not need, deserve or want audience sympathy, it was JJ Hunsecker: a tyrannical right-wing columnist patterned after Walter Winchell, masterfully created on the screen by Burt Lancaster (who also coproduced the film). For the stage version, the authors felt it necessary to give JJ a tender waltz about his kid sister, for whom he displays incestuous longing, as well as the above-mentioned vaudeville act. While the real-life Winchell did indeed begin his career in vaudeville, the innuendo-slinging, red-baiting Winchell of 1957 was not prone to sentimental ballads and tap dancing.
These musical comedy plotting decisions were apparently influenced by the selection of leading man John Lithgow. Just then off a popular sitcom for which he won three Emmy Awards playing a happy extraterrestrial dad, the authors seemed to feel the need to make JJ—or, rather, Lithgow as JJ—at least somewhat likable. Yes, Lithgow earned a Best Actor Tony for his efforts, against little viable competition; but his performance scuttled the musical’s potential effectiveness. Sweet Smell closed two weeks later, after a three-month run.
The plot, in brief: smarmy, gutter-dwelling press agent Sidney Falco (played on screen by Tony Curtis) lusts to get his clients mentioned in the all-powerful Hunsecker’s newspaper column. When Sidney discovers Hunsecker’s sister Susan is involved with nightclub musician Dallas, he shoehorns himself between Susan (whose secret he tries to protect) and JJ (who sees Falco as a valuable asset in the dissemination of dirt). Matters do not end well.
Stepping into the shoes molded for Lithgow is Raúl Esparza, who is—not surprisingly—excellent in the role. He performs the same numbers as Lithgow, of course; but he manages to keep Hunsecker irredeemably vile, with frequent glints of delicious villainy (in the mode of Jack Cassidy). While staged concerts of this type are assembled with minimal rehearsal, Esparza—at the first of three performances—was already in full control. The other leading players, not so much. It’s not exactly fair, you say, to compare young performers like Ali Louis Bourzgui (who played the title role in last season’s revival of Tommy) and Lizzy McAlpine (of Floyd Collins) with Brian d’Arcy James and Kelli O’Hara, who originated Sidney and Susan. But James and O’Hara were newcomers at the time, instantly demonstrating—even as their show foundered—that they were potential stars-to-be. The other principals at MasterVoices, Noah J. Rickets (as Dallas) and Aline Mayagoitia (as Rita), both do well in their supporting roles.
The strongest element of the concert, by far, is the music, featuring the vibrant original orchestrations by William David Brohn. Make that “more than vibrant.” From the first sets of chromatically descending triplets, blared out by a brass section of six and viscerally all but smacking you in the face, we are firmly rooted in the late-1950 jazz milieu of Manhattan. Composer Hamlisch was clearly inspired by Elmer Bernstein’s film score, which was threaded through the original film (the milieu being the nightclubs of the time).
The music of the musical Sweet Smell supports and propels the show; even in 2002, it was one of the main strengths. But the songs? There is one exceptional number: “At the Fountain,” which perfectly expresses Sidney’s longing for something pure and good and way out of reach. (Hamlisch and Carnelia got the assignment by writing several songs on spec; one can imagine that “At the Fountain” was one of these songs and nabbed them the job.) The score is built around sinuously smoky motifs that recur here and there, and that’s all to the good; but most of the songs sound professional and properly atmospheric but not inspired. Which is where Brohn—with his brass and woodwinds—comes to the rescue.
Said music is excellently conducted by Sperling, a long-time expert in the field. He has also provided helpful direction, threading the action among the onstage orchestra. In this he is abetted by choreographer Andrew Palermo, who has done an impressive job considering the minimal rehearsal time available. The staging also makes use of a chorus of 130 or so, seated in three dozen opera-house “boxes” circling the playing area. (MasterVoices is a choral group, founded in 1941 by conductor Robert Shaw as The Collegiate Chorale. Part of their mission, in producing concerts, is to use their members.) While this many voices is overkill for Broadway musicals, the singing—and staging—of the chorus in this case worked especially well.
Surviving authors Guare and Carnelia explained in multiple interviews that the original show was weakened as it moved from workshop to tryout to Broadway, with numerous alterations along the way. (Guare, recently, on the Broadway version: “The curtain went up and the show wasn’t there. It was a nightmare.”) With Sperling’s encouragement, this sent them back to discarded drafts in an attempt to fashion a better and more viable version. These consist, most notably, of three changes.
The opening number used on Broadway was “The Column”: “Gotta get in the column/ if you burn for success/ once you’re in, in the column/ this whole fickle world will answer yes.” This was replaced by an earlier version, “Gossip”: “Someone started a rumor/ about me, about you/ such a terrible rumor/ what I wouldn’t give to make it true.” They also restored “That’s How I Say Goodbye,” a late-in-the-second-act duet for the ill-starred lovers that was cut on the road (and which this listener wouldn’t count as an improvement). Finally, there is an altogether new ending in which Susan unexpectedly triumphs over JJ and Sidney. Which adds an intriguing final twist to the show.
Guare and Carnelia hope that the MasterVoices concert, and the changes they have wrought, will generate future productions of their lost-and-neglected 2002 musical. (Historically, this rarely happens; it did work for Merrily We Roll Along, yes, but Sweet Smell is not Merrily We Roll Along.) Let it be said that from my seat on the aisle, the alterations in this 2025 version are indeed intriguing enough to encourage further work on Sweet Smell of Success. With the proviso that I wouldn’t want to see or hear this show without Bill Brohn’s powerful 17-piece orchestration.
Sweet Smell of Success opened November 22, 2025 at Frederick P. Rose Hall/Jazz at Lincoln Center and runs through November 23, 2025. Information: mastervoices.org
