George Sanders manages to manipulate almost the entire cast; especially the women in his life: Yvonne De Carlo,, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Lisa Ferraday, and Nancy Gates. He can't do enough to exploit them as so many pawns, twisting them in an intricate web of deceit, betrayal, and jealousy. His character Sabourin is fascinating; that he's based on an actual criminal doesn't diminish the depth of this dramatic achievement. It's almost painful to watch him mess with so many unsuspecting people. He even has a scene created for the play he finances so that Stephanie (Nancy Gates) foreshadows his attempt to seduce her, then has to face his actual come-on.
He outdoes himself by attempting to manipulate his mother. We're introduced to his unscrupulousness by watching him frame his brother in order to get a U.S. passport. Definitely a great example of a narcissist. What makes the film work so well is that his victims are so very different. Some have money and stature like him; others are ordinary office workers. Some are compromised themselves. In short, they're a cross-section of society, sophisticated and naive, none of them evil. And some of them end up as dead bodies
The ending has a lot noir-ish touches. O'Hara's ambush making them both victims, Sabourin's repudiated by everyone, wandering the dark streets, alone. Also reeking of noir are Sabourin's first escapades with De Carlo in New York. The frame story sets the stage well; strangely, though, the first European scenes look like Italy, not Czechoslovakia. Reviewer dougdoepke noted that Death of a Scoundrel looks more like 1946 than 1956. I agree; in fact, the street scene at the very beginning has a lot of prewar cars, and nothing newer than a '48 model (the taxi starts out as a '41 DeSoto and becomes a '46-'48 when it pulls up to the hotel). Well, no big deal.
The fact that Sabourin was a Holocaust survivor (I assume that his real-life counterpart was also) certainly makes a difference. That would explain his cynical behavior, but not of course excuse it. The movie isn't psychologically driven, however, and except for the scenes mentioned, atmosphere isn't important either. It's more of a crime drama; unique and enjoyable.
He outdoes himself by attempting to manipulate his mother. We're introduced to his unscrupulousness by watching him frame his brother in order to get a U.S. passport. Definitely a great example of a narcissist. What makes the film work so well is that his victims are so very different. Some have money and stature like him; others are ordinary office workers. Some are compromised themselves. In short, they're a cross-section of society, sophisticated and naive, none of them evil. And some of them end up as dead bodies
The ending has a lot noir-ish touches. O'Hara's ambush making them both victims, Sabourin's repudiated by everyone, wandering the dark streets, alone. Also reeking of noir are Sabourin's first escapades with De Carlo in New York. The frame story sets the stage well; strangely, though, the first European scenes look like Italy, not Czechoslovakia. Reviewer dougdoepke noted that Death of a Scoundrel looks more like 1946 than 1956. I agree; in fact, the street scene at the very beginning has a lot of prewar cars, and nothing newer than a '48 model (the taxi starts out as a '41 DeSoto and becomes a '46-'48 when it pulls up to the hotel). Well, no big deal.
The fact that Sabourin was a Holocaust survivor (I assume that his real-life counterpart was also) certainly makes a difference. That would explain his cynical behavior, but not of course excuse it. The movie isn't psychologically driven, however, and except for the scenes mentioned, atmosphere isn't important either. It's more of a crime drama; unique and enjoyable.