The Sting works endearingly without a single hitch. George Roy Hill's film concerns conmanship in Chicago in the thirties, and the exploits of a few independent confidence men banding together against a big gang boss and his henchmen. This is one of those precarious movies in which murder must look absurd or funny—except in one case, where it has been taken seriously—and it is to Hill's and his scenarist's, David S. Ward's, credit that they just about carry off this colossally queasy task. It must be said right away that certain plot elements in these cinematic rodomontades are bound to be unbelievable; the question is merely to what extent the filmmakers, con artists in their own right, can carry off the caper without allowing us time to unsuspend our disbelief. The main tools at their disposal are surprise, wit, credibility in trappings and details, fast pacing...