Le Salaire de la peur

You're living in a barren, beaten land, in South America where the lost and lonely band, no way to pay for your escape, the barrels bottom is all you scrape, this ain't the dream that had been promised, or been planned. Then your offered a way out, a chance to flee, there's a price to pay but soon you could be free, if you drive a laden lorry, you can wrap yourself in glory, $2000 you'll receive as the payee.

If only driving a wagon a few hundred miles was all there was to it. A fantastic piece of film making that demonstrates how far people can sink and what boundaries they're prepared to cross to extricate themselves from those depths.

Georges Arnaud's novel LE SALAIRE DE LA PEUR has been filmed twice, by Henri-Georges Clouzot as THE WAGES OF FEAR (1953) and by William Friedkin as SORCERER (1977). While both films are worth seeing, the earlier version is the one regarded as a classic, and rightly so. Although SORCERER goes into more detail about the political climate and the various misdeeds that led the four desperate protagonists to the South American hellhole where they accept high-paying but life-risking jobs driving nitroglycerin through treacherous terrain, WAGES... distinguishes the men's personalities better, giving the audience more rooting interest in them. Both films have excellent casts, with charismatic leads in Yves Montand (WAGES...) and Roy Scheider (SORCERER), plus WAGES... also provides feminine charm in the form of beguiling Vera Clouzot as the café waitress who loves Montand. Both films have tense action sequences as well, but somehow for all the staging and skillful editing, SORCERER's action scenes seem strangely slow, slogging along in the mud just like the protagonists in their less-than-state-of-the-art trucks. Both versions have enough good things in them to be worth a look, but if you only have the time and resources to check out one of them, it's WAGES... that really pays off!

In the opening scene of Wages of Fear (1953), director Georges Henri-Clouzot provides an inkling of the kind of claustrophobic ride we are in for. In a steamy, impoverished Latin American town called Las Piedras, insects grope clumsily in the dust, struggling to escape the strings that children have tied to them. People from all over the world congregate in the streets and bars and the air is thick with choking dust. Clouzot makes clear the desperation of the residents, "It's like prison," explains one of them. "Easy to get in, but escape is impossible." The Southern Oil Company (SOC - same initials as Standard Oil) runs the town and enjoys its profits while the villagers are compelled to work odd jobs just to stay alive. After a fire breaks out at one of the oil fields killing many workers, the anti-union American boss seeks experienced drivers from among the townspeople to put out the fire. It is here that the anti-American flavor runs thick and where much of this part of the film was originally excised for American audiences (but has since been restored).

Four men, desperate to escape their trap, agree to drive a truck loaded with nitroglycerine 300 miles over treacherous mountain roads in the hot sun for the sum of $2000 each. Transporting the nitroglycerine for them is a way out of hopelessness -- either through a big paycheck or through sudden death, with the latter appearing the more probable. Though sadly past the point in time when we can still be shocked over gangster capitalism and men selling out for money, the story is nonetheless compelling. The four who are chosen to go on this fool's errand include Mario, a young Corsican played by Yves Montand in a role that brought him widespread attention. He is carrying on an affair with a local servant girl, Linda (Vera Clouzot) who is in love with him. His treatment of her, however, is atrocious and reflects the attitude of the male-dominated society they live in. Also picked to drive one of the trucks is Jo, an aging Parisian small-time crook (Charles Vanel), Luigi (Folco Lulli), an Italian with less than a year to live, and an ex-nazi pilot (Peter van Eyck). This unlikely group will play a cat-and-mouse game with death for the remainder of the film.

Clouzot depicts several incidents that bring the tension to the boiling point. In the first one, the trucks must travel at least 40 mph over a pot-holed stretch of road to prevent the vibrations from setting off the nitroglycerine. The second involves a sharp, narrow turn that requires the trucks to back up onto an unstable, rotten wooden platform causing it to buckle. Almost immediately afterwards, the trucks are stopped by a huge boulder in the middle of the road and must siphon off some of the nitroglycerine to blow it up. Finally, Mario must deftly maneuver the truck over a depression of spilled oil with the wheels stuck in reverse. As the long treacherous journey unfolds, roles are reversed between Mario and Jo as Mario becomes the strong dominant one and Jo, in Charles Vanel's brilliant performance, becomes shaken, fearful, and docile. Their relationship becomes the highlight of the film as the two become mutually dependent on each other for survival and comfort.

I found Wages of Fear to be an involving experience that kept me riveted throughout, though I did sense that there would not be a two and a half-hour film unless somebody survived. Although the unexpected plot twists were gripping, the best part of the film for me was the revelation of each character when faced with fear. It reminded me of the "Treasure of the Sierra Madre", a film that also showed men discovering the truth about themselves and others while pursuing their dream of wealth. Wages of Fear lived up to its accolades, but for me the discordant ending clashed both with the tone of the film and with my experience of the universe not as arbitrary or capricious but as filled with meaning and purpose.

My title is not an exaggeration. If you thought OJ Simpson's slow speed chase was insane, you need to change the batteries in your pacemaker and check out "Wages of Fear". This 1953 French classic tells the story of a bunch of guys who are stuck in a squalid South American village--a sort of Casablaca-esque purgatory--and will do anything to get out, even if it means getting themselves blown sky high. Slow and lazy for the first half (deliberately), the plot eventually reveals itself to be about a suicide mission to haul a zillion gallons of nitroglycerine across 300 miles of harsh terrain that would make the Coyote & Roadrunner take an early retirement.

Yes, nitro is that stuff that you don't want to look at the wrong way or it may send you to the moon. "Wages of Fear" ultimately reveals itself to be a gripping character study of how people keep their wits, or come unravelled, when subjected to pure terror... with of course the reward of heaven dangling just out of reach. So again we see this subtle allegory of purgatory, hell and heaven which I'm sure was the intent of director Henri-Georges Clouzot.

An interesting point of historical note is that when this film was released in the USA, around 15 minutes of its 150 min running time were cut. According to the Criterion mini-documentary "Censored", these cuts were largely due to the "anti-American" themes (the tyrannical oil corporation that exploits the lives of locals for the sake of a buck) as well as subtle themes of spiritual cynicism (the beautifully poetic "fence" monologue which symbolizes the absence of God/afterlife). By today's standards these censored scenes are prime time tv, but back in the 50s this movie was feared by US censors as being godless pinko propaganda. That might put a smirk on your face as you're watching this flick. But definitely look for the full 150ish minute version of this film, not the 130 min censored cut.

But really, for the entire second half there will be no smirking, only tense gritting of teeth as you watch these rolling nuke trucks inch across the South American jungle. The hazards they encounter, as well as their ingenious attempts to survive them, are extremely creative and expertly filmed with the sort of suspense that would make Hitchcock lose his breath.

Content advisory stuff: There's a scene in the beginning where a fine tarantula specimen gets squashed. After rewinding and rewatching the scene in slo-mo a dozen times, I'm almost certain that our unfortunate arachnid was a fake prop. If anyone knows differently please mention it in a review. The same scene shows a naked woman from behind, at a distance. Later in the film is a scene that shows a topless native woman from a distance--it's very artistic. Language is tame throughout the movie with maybe 1 or 2 instances of "merde" (the sh- word). While there is violence, none of it is shown explicitly on camera (some of it is disturbing, though). And unless you're a 1950s American censorship bureaucrat, there's nothing politically incendiary other than the notion that the almighty dollar is the root of much misery.

"Wages of Fear" is a well crafted, poetic, suspenseful film that certainly deserves its classic status in the history of cinema. Not unlike the classic Bogart/Lupino film "They Drive by Night" (1940), this film proves that a seemingly simple story about a bunch of truck drivers can really get your gears going.

This movie is astonishing, a gritty story filmed in an ultra-real style that relies simply on the beauty of lighting and film to achieve its stunning effects. It seems from another world, which in a way, it is. The acting is superb: Montand's Mario is full of jerky movements and intense impulses but always maintains his Gallic savoir-faire, while Charles Vanel as Jo brings, at first at least, a type of macho to the screen that modern movie-makers simply do not comprehend. The rest of the cast, especially the camp chief, Luigi, and Peter van Eyck as Bimba are incredible, as is Vera Clouzot who is incomprehensibly but believably upbeat and innocent - and totally gorgeous - in the midst of the hellhole of a town they're all stuck in. Clouzot's directing is flawless - I don't think anyone has ever squeezed more tension with just a few essential scene elements. The trucks wheeze and grunt as well as they ever have in the movies - the only comparison is Spielberg's early gem, "The Duel", but Clouzot's automotive cinematics outdo even Spielberg. The stripped down existentialism of the characters, the starkness of their shared dilemma, the grim and grimy scenery, and the cinematography itself are all of a piece. The latter is what elevates this movie to the very top rank, including some of the most dramatic and effective black and white shooting I've ever seen. Yet it never becomes mannered or gratuitous - it is orchestrated with the rise - and rise! - of tension in the film. The final scene takes on a surreal as opposed to ultra-realistic quality that has its own logic. One last word about the acting - we don't see anything like it anymore. The self-conscious mannerism of method acting (which has had its own triumphs) and the toxic awareness of everyone from the actors to the audience, the camera, directors, etc. that each actor is a celebrity and potential artiste, has ruined that conviction that actors were once larger than life people before they went on-screen, that they came to acting as an outcome of living rough, unadorned, and yet imaginative lives as opposed to shooting for fame and fortune and celebrity within an artificial corporate star-making incubator.