I realize I'm swimming against the tide, big-time, and so am somewhat reluctant to even say anything. But the truth is this film did not speak to me. Perhaps it's my age (about 60) or the film's age (about 65); I'm in the habit of expecting a little more subtlety. I approached this film in a straightforward way expecting a visceral experience, and I was disappointed. Perhaps instead I should have approached this film intellectually as a bit of film history. Why didn't I like it? -- 1) it seemed "corny", 2) the stereotyping seemed ridiculous, and 3) portrayal of a foreign culture was markedly uneven.
One of the supposed features often touted is how well Humphrey Bogart portrays the stages of a character slowly going mad. But what struck me was what we'd call nowadays "overacting" or maybe even "being melodramatic". Much of this is due to the scripted dialog rather than to Bogart: the character's sudden ruminations about "guilt" and "conscience" with no earlier referents felt obligatory and stagy ...sort of like walking into the last act of Shakespeare's Macbeth. The mise-en-scene didn't help either: his character disappearing into -and appearing to be consumed by- the flames of a fire was a little too obvious.
I groaned when the first Mexican bandits appeared with two bandoleers of bullets crossed over their chest, effectively screaming "bandit uniform". Some later bandits avoided that stereotype; instead they had an awful lot of of holes in their clothes and even multiple holes in their hat. Portraying _all_ bandits as overly macho, not valuing life very much, and not very smart felt too simplistic.
There are many good points of sensitivity to a foreign culture: long stretches of the actors speaking Spanish without much translation, knowledge of the value of different foreign coins, slightly different barbershop rituals, intimate familiarity with the ways of the local Indians, and even some plot points hinging on detailed knowledge of the ways of others. But at the same time there were several glaring exceptions. Indigenous people are stumped by a simple medical issue, and their automatic reaction is to seek help form a "white man". (Dr. Livingston anyone?) The medical help the white man offers is extremely simplistic, yet it's enough to get the job done and to thoroughly bamboozle folks. The proceedings are observed by a large tight circle of people, so large it's clearly everyone in the whole Indian village. The white man is rewarded not in any realistic Indian way, but rather with our own silly image of almost-heaven: being placed in a hammock and hand fed fruits by reverent attendants. (What, no harp?) And the bandits don't realize the "sand" is actually gold ...which of course is nonsense.
One of the supposed features often touted is how well Humphrey Bogart portrays the stages of a character slowly going mad. But what struck me was what we'd call nowadays "overacting" or maybe even "being melodramatic". Much of this is due to the scripted dialog rather than to Bogart: the character's sudden ruminations about "guilt" and "conscience" with no earlier referents felt obligatory and stagy ...sort of like walking into the last act of Shakespeare's Macbeth. The mise-en-scene didn't help either: his character disappearing into -and appearing to be consumed by- the flames of a fire was a little too obvious.
I groaned when the first Mexican bandits appeared with two bandoleers of bullets crossed over their chest, effectively screaming "bandit uniform". Some later bandits avoided that stereotype; instead they had an awful lot of of holes in their clothes and even multiple holes in their hat. Portraying _all_ bandits as overly macho, not valuing life very much, and not very smart felt too simplistic.
There are many good points of sensitivity to a foreign culture: long stretches of the actors speaking Spanish without much translation, knowledge of the value of different foreign coins, slightly different barbershop rituals, intimate familiarity with the ways of the local Indians, and even some plot points hinging on detailed knowledge of the ways of others. But at the same time there were several glaring exceptions. Indigenous people are stumped by a simple medical issue, and their automatic reaction is to seek help form a "white man". (Dr. Livingston anyone?) The medical help the white man offers is extremely simplistic, yet it's enough to get the job done and to thoroughly bamboozle folks. The proceedings are observed by a large tight circle of people, so large it's clearly everyone in the whole Indian village. The white man is rewarded not in any realistic Indian way, but rather with our own silly image of almost-heaven: being placed in a hammock and hand fed fruits by reverent attendants. (What, no harp?) And the bandits don't realize the "sand" is actually gold ...which of course is nonsense.