My Favorite Movie

John Huston's Treasure of the Sierra Madre [1948] is my favorite movie. After considering the 90 years of continuous film-making, I can't think of another example from the medium which combines the best aspects of narrative drama, cinematic editing, acting, clarity and economy of means, as well as this classic film does. It was made in black and white. I don't know if it's ever been "colorized" but that would certainly detract from its brilliant photographic qualities. 

The movie won Huston both the Best Director and Best Screenplay Academy Awards for his effort, and his Father Walter Huston [1884-1950] won for Best Supporting Actor, though he could have easily won the Best Actor award, plain and simple--it's undoubtedly the greatest role of his career, in a part written for him by his Son.

The plot is derived directly from the novel by B. Traven, a mysterious German novelist whose life story was as fascinating and complex as any fiction. Huston had thought of making a movie from the book for some years before realizing it. Obtaining permission and rights to adapt it involved some complex negotiation. Eventually, Huston coaxed Traven--notoriously private and even paranoid about being identified in public--into participating in the production, incognito. Huston filmed much of action in Mexico, heightening verisimilitude and availing himself of handy Mexican actors and extras.  

Where to begin. On its most obvious level, the plot revolves around the evils of greed and the exploitation of common men by capitalism. Traven was a Socialist, and Huston shared some of his sentiments. The film was released less than a year after the Hollywood 10 had been cited for contempt by HUAC; I think it unlikely that this film--in its present form--could have been made during the 1950's, because of its clearly anti-capitalistic slant.

Humphrey Bogart, the de-facto star of the film, around whom the action moves, was not even nominated for Best Actor, an anomaly which seems more peculiar and baffling as each year passes. For my money, it was his best performance, better than Falcon, better than Caine Mutiny, better than the Desperate Hours, better than all the rest. In the movie he goes from small time grifter and bum, to cocky gold miner, to psychopathic killer, to pathetic victim, all in the space of 126 minutes, and there's never a wrong move. Laurence Olivier garnered Best Actor that year, for Hamlet, a pretentious Shakespearean adaptation which blew the Motion Picture Academy away with its timely British pride and passion. Tim Holt, a veteran contract Western regular, in a career-defining role as Dobbs's  friend, was the third of the acting trio.

Aside from its basic plot, the movie is filled with a number of brilliant set-pieces and sub-plots. Robert Blake, in an uncredited performance, plays the little Mexican boy selling lottery tickets, the purchase of which eventually provides Dobbs with the money to throw in with Howard and Curtin for the prospecting venture. Then there's the Mexican haircut scene, with Bogart admiring his shiny slicked-back hair in a hand-mirror: Was ever any Hollywood leading man so homely and entertaining at the same time? Huston himself appears in the movie as a rich American, whom Dobbs keeps hitting up for peso pieces; it's a sly little ironic amusing twist on their real-life relationship: Huston says, after being bumped for the third time, "from now on, you'll have to get on in life without my help." 

Like many movie buffs, I've memorized every line in the movie, having watched it at least 30 times. It's a virtual--no, an actual--textbook of cinematic techniques. In the bar fight scene between Bogart, Holt and the contract crook, the camera is placed right on the floor, looking up at the struggling bodies as they stagger and careen over in front of us. When Howard the old prospector is measuring out the booty on a portable scale, you hear a little triangle tinkling sound as the gold flakes cascade onto the tin dish--a simple, and brilliant effect. 

Huston's sympathetic portrayal of Mexican society and culture was quite authentic, and unusual for its time. Huston lived in Mexico for some years, was married to a Mexican woman, and was quite knowledgeable about the country. The Mexican villagers, and the rural Indian tribe--their honesty, generosity and humility--are placed in sharp contrast to the money-hungry Americans, personified in the character of Dobbs, whose greed transforms him into a monster, a devil cackling before the rising campfire flames of his own evil, trying to convince himself that conscience is just an illusion. 

Howard and Curtin "laugh at the end of the world" in much the same way that Zorba laughs and dances in Zorba the Greek:  "You dance when you are very sad, and you dance when you are joyful." The true gifts of life are the rich fruit of your own labor, shared in the company of friends. Fortunes are made and lost, but happiness can't be bought. Huston made and lost several fortunes in his own lifetime, but he loved making movies. He never retired. In his 73rd year, he made the masterpiece Wise Blood, adapted from the novel by Flannery O'Connor. If you love what you do, that is also a pure form of happiness.