THE TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE (1948) *** John Huston directs Walter Huston (is there some Freudian metaphor for this?), and Humphrey Bogart deteriorates before your eyes, all of which is very interesting. Huston the Elder is often the only fun thing going in the early portions, but as Bogey morphs from happy go-lucky park bench dweller to capitalist desperado in the flames he demands attention and respect, as an actor obviously, not as a character. Not that he wasn't a character, but again, I digress... Huston the younger works the script in ways to ensure that you won't miss the life lessons, but they aren't obtrusive. In fact it all feels like reality under pressure, and you can't help wondering where the angels of karma are. In other words, it's not a film where you comfortably await any happy ending. Huston's (Younger, mainly) use of lighting is absolutely brilliant when he works it, and the film couldn't have attained its extraordinary heights of suspense without Max Steiner's impressive score and incidental music. Tim Holt's fine performance is regularly overlooked, but he's every bit as convincing as Bogey in the early going (something of a complement), and isn't entirely blown off the board by Walter in terms of expressing his humanity (this is a grand complement).
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