The Treasure of the Sierra Madre
I'm of the opinion that good art can generally transcend time and culture, but at the same time, there are very few serious films from the 40s and earlier that I can say I genuinely appreciate. Casablanca is one. I think it genuinely holds up today when it comes to the essentials, barring some of the expected cheesiness and over-playing.
The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, however, didn't do it for me. It was too steeped in all the inanities of its particular era of film making, lacking both coherency and believable character behavior, and anything resembling subtlety or finesse. The music is likewise just as over-blown as you would expect, and does its best to pummel the potential out of any scene that wasn't already ruined by the aforementioned 1940s silliness. But that's not why I didn't like The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. I could have overlooked those things if it was actually interesting. But to me, it wasn't, and I think that's entirely due to it not focusing on the more intriguing, character-driven portions of its narrative.
There's a scene about 3/4ths of the way through the movie where Bogart and Tim Holt (who actually did a pretty darn good job with his role) are sitting at a campfire talking. The conversation gradually turns into an argument, then an all-out fight, ending with Bogart saying menacingly "I'll bet you a hundred thousands dollars (the amount of gold they are carrying) you fall asleep before me." THAT is interesting. That's what the entire movie should have been. The motivations and interests of the three characters clashing in increasingly aggressive ways, leading to the climax. In reality, it's a few such scenes, interspersed with other scenes that don't really take the story or characters anywhere. And nothing Bogart or anyone else does feels like the natural conclusion of a psychological journey--rather, their actions and reactions feel like the scatter-shot whims of a scriptwriter with a vague idea of where he was going, but no idea how to get there in a logical fashion.
There's another scene maybe half way through, where our three protagonists are deciding what to do about another man that's tracked them to their camp and is demanding an equal share of the prospecting. They decide to kill him. And right as they level their guns at him and prepare to shoot, they are attacked by bandits. During the ensuing firefight, the man is killed. They examine his body, and find (and read aloud) a letter from his wife.
It's supposed to be an emotional scene, but to me, it was a criminally wasted opportunity. If only those darn bandits hadn't shown up. But they do show up, saving the movie from the burden of interesting character development. And after the requisite sobbing music and haunted looks, the characters go back to acting as if nothing had happened. In many ways, I think this scene sums up my issues with The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. And intriguing premise that ultimately--due to its era, its script, or maybe both--fails to deliver what it implicitly promises.