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Drifter Fred C. Dobbs, down and out in Tampico, Mexico, impulsively spends his last bit of dough on a lottery ticket. Getting broke, he and fellow indigent Bob Curtin convince an old prospector to help them mine for gold in the Sierra Madre Mountains.
The characters here are probed and thoroughly penetrated, not through psychoanalysis but through a crucible of human conflict, action, gesture and expressive facial tones.
This is one of the most visually alive and beautiful movies I have ever seen; there is a wonderful flow of fresh air, light, vigor, and liberty through every shot.
The movie has never really been about gold but about character, and Bogart fearlessly makes Fred C. Dobbs into a pathetic, frightened, selfish man -- so sick we would be tempted to pity him, if he were not so undeserving of pity.
Greed, a despicable passion out of which other base ferments may spawn, is seldom treated in the movies with the frank and ironic contempt that is vividly manifested toward it in Treasure of Sierra Madre.
Treasure of Sierra Madre is one of the best things Hollywood has done since it learned to talk; and the movie can take a place, without blushing, among the best ever made.