The Treasure Of The Sierra Madre: Potently Prospecting Paranoia

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Rating: 8.5 out of 10.

Stephen King. Alice Cooper. Hillary Clinton. Richard Dreyfuss. Jean Reno. What do these people all have in common? They’re all 73 years old. And do you know who else is? That’s right: The Treasure of the Sierra Madre.

The 1948 Warner Bros film follows two destitute Americans, the paranoid and temperamental Dobbs (Humphrey Bogart) and the impressionable Curtin (Tim Holt), who seeks the assistance of a wily old prospector, Howard (Walter Huston), to find gold in the mountains – but soon, suspicion, distrust and greed gets between them.

I don’t think it’s surprising that this is the oldest film I’ve reviewed so far – focus has mainly been on the ’70s and newer. Yet Treasure of Sierra Madre is still one of the most prevalent and modern flicks I’ve done on this blog, which is crazy to think about. That’s partly because the film laid out the perfect template for any story: stick a group of flawed, beefed out characters in a hot, sweaty pressure cooker, and you’re instantly onto a succulent meal. And, of course, the age old moralistic tale always seems to mature like a vintage wine – mainly because our disillusionment, indifference and fascination over morality will never cease.

Yet gold isn’t the main object of obsession here, but rather a fascinating character study. Praise for that mainly has to go to the screenplay, by director John Huston, which is so dense and complex it’s extraordinary. That’s the main reason why this film is so hard to decipher. It’s entangling and endless layers leave you wondering what this film is actually trying to tell us, though there’s never going to be one answer to that question. With it’s forever twisting and turning plot, equally riveting as it is dark, it’s the characters that take the forefront of our mind.

One is Fred C. Dobbs. A seedy, unemployed, dead end loser, Bogart – by this stage truly a leading man with the epic success of Casablanca after years of struggle – truly gets to show off his acting pedigree. And, oh, how he acts. It could be argued that only reached these perilous heights again with The Caine Mutiny (1954). I must, once again, come back to the screenplay, because it brilliantly depicts a man who slowly disintegrates into madness, into the lowest dregs of humanity. Easily corruptible, Dobbs’ tragic fate seems unpreventable from the very moment we meet him.

Treasure of Sierra Madre focuses pretty eagerly on the idea of the luck, and Dobbs is a man who we never quite know is lucky or not. He’s a beggar, but the same man (played by John Huston) gives him money three times; he miraculously garners a job, but his boss dodges paying his wages; he stumbles across gold early in the journey – but it’s worthless. Perhaps that’s the best description of him: he’s fools gold.

Yet even with that brilliant performance by old Humphrey, he’s not the man that steals the spotlight. No, it’s Walter Huston, father of John, who is luminous, and fully deserving of an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor. For those you haven’t watched the film, his best description would probably be a more admirable and prudent version of Toy Story 2‘s Stinky Pete. The old fashioned, rootin’-tootin’ cowboy – but this one has seen it all before. Howard knows exactly how it’ll play out, yet he still goes along for the thrill of the ride, only hoping to stagnate Dobbs’ descent into madness and the intense treachery and sinning that’ll come down the road. He’s a man that can only laugh at the fallibility of human nature, and the cosmic joke played on them all. It’s commendation to John Huston, who went to great lengths researching about the trials and tribulations of a prospector to create such a realistic and disarming character as Howard.

Curtin finishes off the disturbed love triangle, played by Tim Holt who gets to express himself more outside the limiting boundaries of B-movie Westerns. And it’s the dysfunctional relationships between these three that makes Treasure of Sierra Madre so fascinating. It’s no surprise that the best sections of the film come when the three of them clash and alienate, isolated on top of a Mexican mountain with no escape. The tension when an intrusive American, Cody (Bruce Bennett), turns up and starts helping himself to beans and water is one of the high points of the film.

Latter sections of film vary in consistency – when Howard is invited to dine with an Indian tribe, and Dobbs and Curtin are left to carry his goods down to the closest village, the spiralling scenes of friction and hate are spellbinding. Without Walter Huston around, Bogart can truly go to show how great he can be, expressing a flawless deception of raw and hostile humanity. Yet, the inconsequential snippets within the Indian tribe belong in a lesser film, and a disoriented ending felt out of place, lacking the dark catharticism that made the rest of the action so thrilling. But, hey-ho – no movie’s perfect, and the good moments firmly overshadow any faults.

It’s also a delight to see respect to other cultures in this film – which could definitely have been a different story, certainly for a ’40s story. Mexicans and Indians aren’t subhuman, but accurately and interestingly depicted, from bandits to hard working workers to peaceful and traditional tribe members. There’s no off-colour comments – just purely good cinema. And it’s impossible not to mention the glorious black and white cinematography that pierces the eyes. The film is immediately more ominous and atmospheric. It’s unforgettable.

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre is one of the greatest screen tragedies. It perfectly balances a classic Western and a devilish, dark noir. It’s aged to perfection, with a sublime script, enrapturing and profound characters and unsurprisingly mesmerising direction from the giant that is John Huston. People talk about the ’70s as a decade of seminal films – but without the uniqueness of Huston, the template for film auteur and so many of those iconic artists would not have been made. It’s a film that could manage to teach us all a lesson, without any of the modern day preaching – just purely good cinema.

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre – 8.5 out of 10