Sierra Madre, I'm convinced, grows on you the more you watch it. Like Apocalypse Now, the movie shows us crazy characters on the march, moving from one crazy adventure to another. And like Apocalypse Now, these little stories shine with their own brilliance. I can't name and describe the episodes; to do so would hurt the first time viewer's pleasure. Yet I will say this: the episodes stand on their own AND (unlike Apocalypse Now) THEY link together coherently, so that the movie ends not with a whimper, but, instead, with a bang of existential brilliance. Sierra Madre, however, falls short in one area -- Steiner's score. Sometimes it intrudes on sequences better suited for silence. Other times it seems mismatched, introducing a levity that weakens the narrative's tensions. But then, sometimes, particularly the passage when human voices comingle with percussive rhythms, sometimes the score sounds about as good, as appropriate, and as perfect as film music can.
Like Welles and Lang, Huston was a genius. Fortunately Hollywood never shut him down.
Like Welles and Lang, Huston was a genius. Fortunately Hollywood never shut him down.