[7]
I have a theory about why many of William Friedkin’s films, including this one, are gaining newfound appreciation decades after their initial releases. I think it might be because Friedkin likes deeply flawed characters — unlikable characters that we neither pity nor aspire to be. And perhaps back in the ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s, audiences simply weren’t willing to identify with such damaged goods. But in these jaded, cynical, nihilistic times we live in today? Well, movies don’t change. People do. Just a thought.
Sorcerer, a misleading title since it’s not a fantasy film, is about a group of bad men who find themselves together at the anus of the world, willing to take a highly deadly job delivering explosive nitroglycerine across miles of treacherous Latin American jungle full of downed trees, crumbling hillside roads, and rickety bridges. One bad bump, and our anti-heroes are blown sky high. The pay is high, but there’s another reason they put their lives on the line: because an oil well has ruptured, preventing anyone in the impoverished third-world village from working. Until the nitroglycerine arrives to close the tunnel, the anus of the world is going to need an even more dreadful description.
Roy Scheider (Jaws, The French Connection) stars as the lone American, an Irish gang getaway driver on the lam from both the law and the mafia. The other men who agree to drive two trucks of explosives include Francisco Rabal as a Mexican hitman, Bruno Cremer as a French embezzler, and Amidou as an Arab terrorist. One of the off-putting things about Sorcerer is that it spends considerable time showing each of these men’s backstories. It’s essentially four short films about four different characters, with no overriding plot in sight until they all meet up in the jungle about thirty minutes into the movie.
Once we’re in the Latin American jungle, we slowly get a sense of these characters — cold and stoic as they are — and what their mission will be. It’s not until nearly one hour into the film that the trucks depart with the nitroglycerine. The last half of Sorcerer is a more conventional, at times harrowing, adventure movie. The centerpiece scene of the truck on the swinging bridge over raging waters is a cinematic nail-biter — to say nothing of how on Earth they could have filmed such a scene without the benefit of computer generated imagery. There’s a counterpoint to that scene, when the men have to use their brains to figure out how to move a mammoth tree out of their path — less visceral than the bridge scene, but no less engrossing. I think most people will enjoy the straight-forward adventure and peril of the film’s legitimately gripping second half.
The first half can either fuel your appreciation for the second, or it can drive you away from the movie all together. I somehow managed to watch this movie without seeing a trailer and without knowing anything about it. But I trusted William Friedkin as a filmmaker to take me somewhere interesting, and I trusted that it would pay off — because of all the great films he’s made. And I was not disappointed.
While I was confused for the first quarter of the film, it certainly was not boring. And when the characters came together for their dangerous mission, I realized why that first half hour was necessary. I had to see the indiscretions that led these four characters to their shared, godforsaken situation. Because this is a movie about immoral people doing dangerous things, to help explain why such things are ever done in the first place. What does it take for a man to put his life on the line, not out of nobility, but out of desperation? How slippery is the slope from one indiscretion to moral bankruptcy? And finally, how far removed are we as an audience, really, from these four ne’er-do-wells?
Sorcerer isn’t a tidy movie wrapped up in a bow. It’s a concept-driven film that slowly becomes a bit more character-driven as it goes. It’s palpably, bracingly realistic, but emotionally distant — as men, especially immoral men, often are. It’s somewhat open to interpretation, unconventional in its structure, and provocative in its themes. It’s one that may grow on me over time, but I already admire it for taking me somewhere so interesting, and making me think about what I’ve seen.
With Ramon Bieri, Peter Capell, Karl John, Joe Spinell, and a suitably moody synthesized score by Tangerine Dream. Based on the novel The Wages of Fear by Georges Arnaud.
Oscar Nomination: Best Sound