Published on August 12th, 2019
Dobbs and Curtin meet up in Mexico, and go to work for a contractor, Pat McCormick, who takes them away to remote site and tells them they will be paid when the job is finished.
When they are finished, they return to town to find McCormick to get their wages. McCormick gives them a few dollars, and says he’ll just go to the bank and pick up the payroll for them.
Dobbs and Curtin then meet up with an old prospector, who claims the hills are still full of gold, and if they can get the cash, he’ll go with them.
They eventually get the cash from McCormick after a little “persuasion”, and all three set off for the hills as good friends, but will they return that way ?
Watch Trailer Of Movie “The Treasure Of The Sierra Madre” Here
Movie Reviews: “The Treasure Of The Sierra Madre”
Movie Review: Roger Ebert
When John Huston came back from the war and Humphrey Bogart was a star big enough to choose his next project, the two of them chose to make a film about a seedy loser driven mad by greed.
“Wait till you see me in my next picture,” Bogart shouted to a movie critic outside a New York nightclub. “I play the worst s- you ever saw.” The movie was desolate and despairing, the nicest character in it dies trying to defend men who were about to kill him, and the ending is not merely unhappy but like a cosmic joke against the hero’s dreams. Jack L. Warner, the studio boss who sent the crew to Mexican locations and yanked them back when the budget ran out of control, thought it was “definitely the greatest motion picture we have ever made.”
Movie Review: New York Times
This is a digitized version of an article from The Times’s print archive, before the start of online publication in 1996. To preserve these articles as they originally appeared, The Times does not alter, edit or update them.
Occasionally the digitization process introduces transcription errors or other problems. Please send reports of such problems to 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.” And certainly the big stars of the movies are rarely exposed in such cruel light as that which is thrown on Humphrey Bogart in this new picture at the Strand. But the fact that this steel-springed outdoor drama transgresses convention in both respects is a token of the originality and maturity that you can expect of it.
Movie Review: The Nation
“Badges, we don’t need no stinkin’ badges.” Who said one of the most famous lines in film history? As it turns out, nobody. Several of the best people in Hollywood grew, noticeably, during their years away, at war; the man who grew most impressively, I thought, as an artist, as a man, in intelligence, in intransigence, and in an ability to put through fine work against difficult odds, was John Huston, whose San Pietro and Let There Be Light were full of evidence of this many-sided growth. I therefore looked forward with the greatest eagerness to the work he would do after the war.
His first movie since the war has been a long time coming, but it was certainly worth waiting for. The Treasure of the Sierra Madre is Huston’s adaptation of B. Traven’s novel of the same title. It is not quite a completely satisfying picture, but on the strength of it I have no doubt at all that Huston, next only to Chaplin, is the most talented man working in American pictures, and that this is one of the movie talents in the world which is most excitingly capable of still further growth.
The Treasure is one of very few movies made since 1927 which I am sure will stand up in the memory and esteem of qualified people alongside the best of the silent movies. And yet I doubt that many people will fully realize, right away, what a sensational achievement, or plexus of achievement, it is. You will seldom see a good artist insist less on his artistry; Huston merely tells his story so straight and so well that one tends to become absorbed purely in that; and the story itself—a beauty—is not a kind which most educated people value nearly enough, today.