After The Maltese Falcon, Treasure of the Sierra Madre is probably Huston’s most famous film—the two may vie for the title of best known. It’s a great movie in the sense that The Godfather and Casablanca are great movies: memorable characters, rich in themes, steep in action, imminently watchable.  The kind of “old” movie for people who don’t like “old” movies.

I doubt anyone reading this won’t know the plot, but just in case, Humphrey Bogart plays Fred C. Dobbs, an out-of-luck drifter settled like dirt in one of Mexico’s dirtiest towns. He meets up with fellow drifter Bob Curtin (Tim Holt), and the two try to pick up odd jobs with even less luck than they started with. After taking brutal revenge on an employer who stiffed them, Dobbs and Curtin meet up with the grizzled and half-mad Howard (Huston father Walter, in an Oscar-winning role), a seasoned prospector looking for some men to share the costs of an expedition to mine for gold.

The three team up and head for the wilderness. Soon after, it’s clear that Howard is the most valuable member of the outfit, able to recognize Fool’s Gold and find the real stuff where the others see dust.  He’s also the mediator, picking up early on the paranoia and greed that will eventually lead to Dobbs’ ruin. At first Howard’s placating, going along with Dobbs to stave off his growing insanity, but as Dobbs’ mental instability increases, Howard becomes warily assertive, suggesting that stop while they’re ahead, planting suggestions in Dobbs’ head, and eventually convincing the group to pull up stakes and quit while they’re ahead.

When I first came back to the film after seeing it years ago, the character of Howard struck me as a first-rate candidate for a paper on behavioral studies and decision-making. The way he subtly becomes the leader who keeps the group together while consistently downplaying his role to elude confrontation made him the most interesting character for me. Of course, any such study would devalue the film, but it’s worth mentioning.

[Note: I said that I would be covering all three of Huston’s war documentaries in one article, but upon watching Report from the Aleutians (and other personal/professional affairs), I’ve decided to draw them out. I may condense The Battle of San Piedro and Let There Be Light, but we’ll see. And I also have Across the Pacific to get into before Treasure of the Sierra Madre, but as much as I’m looking forward to covering that film, I’m enjoying myself all the same watching these.]

Before I even started considering a retrospective on Huston’s articles, I still wanted to watch all his films—at first the big ones, then go on to the ones that looked interesting, after that, eh, maybe the obscure-but-still-kinda-uh-well-liked ones? Then everything—if I could stand it—beyond. Either way, be it as casual viewer or retrospective writer on assignment, Huston’s WWII propaganda films weren’t something I was particularly looking forward to.

It would be a neat curiosity, since the bulk of Huston’s work was based on novels, and this would be one of the few (perhaps only? I haven’t gotten that far ahead in my research) Huston works not based on existing material. Nevertheless, my first glimpse of Report from the Aleutians (1943)’ first five or so minutes all but confirmed my fears—I figured it’d be dated, being all 70+ years old, WWII-ish, and well, topical really. It dealt with something that happened a long time ago and whose importance would be all but lost on my generation and probably my parents’ as well. And even if you like documentaries, at first glance it looks like not much more than simple propaganda—which really was my greatest fear with all three.

I find propaganda fascinating (if you don’t, check out Disney’s war cartoons—ever wanted to see Donald Duck as a Nazi?), but when I’m watching the film for the sole purpose of better understanding Huston, I just got this image of the US Propaganda Department breathing down his neck and telling him everything he can and can’t talk about—which is to say not the ideal collection of films to give insight to the man.