The Wages of Fear (1953)

One doesn't just watch The Wages of Fear, one must experience it. The intensity of the truck rides, the expressions and sweat of our characters, the virtual unknown of what lurks next on this road through Hell merely scratches the surface of what to expect from this Clouzot classic. Made in 1953, The Wages of Fear proves that cinema is timeless. This singular film proves that stories told nearly 58 years ago still ... still ... remain as effective today if told with passion, excitement, originality, and most importantly, creativity. From buckling heroes to nervous antagonists, from sandy bars to international hobos, from 1950s bomb to sexual failure, this film, one can proudly say, has everything. Running in the nearly 2.5 hour mark, there is a preconceived notion that French films could not, will not, can not keep a viewer on the edge of the couch. The Wages of Fear proves that theory wrong.

This is not a film about good people. The concept of there being a "diamond" in the rough within The Wages of Fear is difficult to grasp. As one of our characters exits a plane, dressed in a Sunday best suit, the aura of corruption begins to exude. Clouzot surprisingly does something rare in common cinema today, but very effective in this film. He begins deconstructing his characters almost immediately. The first image that begins this conversation shows our anchor Yves Montand possibly in love with a woman who works at the local spot (aka the bar). There is a bizarre, nearly animal-like connection between the two that leads the viewer into assumptions. A mistake one should never make while watching a Clouzot film. Are these two in love? What is their desire? As this question is asked, Clouzot's beautiful wife is heading upstairs with the bar owner, giving us a completely new impression of her worth (see her in Diabolique, please). This continues to happen as the film unfolds. Mario (Montand) finds her annoying and seemingly distraught whenever he and Mr. Jo (our devil in the white suit) are together. This is a small part of a bigger picture, but it remains lucid in the back of your mind as our travels begin.

The journey - to take two truck loads of nitroglycerin nearly 900 miles over rocky terrain. Any slight jarring of the liquid could possibly cause an explosion (or a sudden change in temperature). If that doesn't immediately pull you into the film, I am not sure if you are suited to watching movies. But before these bombs take flight, there are a couple of defining scenes that shape the rest of this thriller. One is the introduction of future long-term friends, Mario & Luigi. Laugh as you must, there must have been someone higher into the brainchild of Nintendo who had recently seen this film. The similarities (as backwards as they may seem) are eerie. Secondly, Mr. Jo. To this viewer, he was one of the most compelling characters of this film. A high-roller with nice suits and flashy money coupled with an arrogant attitude, that fits within the deconstruction theory mentioned earlier. In one scene he is ready to shoot Luigi, in the next, running scared up a mountain. Who is Mr. Jo? With a lacking back story, he begins as a big fish in a small pond, but ultimately ends as nothing more than just another rat infesting the city. Weird.

Rounding out this group of "misfits" is a muscle-man named Bimba, whose fear is shown immediately as our group begins the journey. It is his reaction to a nearly dropped canister of nitroglycerin that sets the tone for the rest of the truck ride. His eyes, his shoulders, his fear just comes through the screen as he drops his glass - giving us the sense of realism and danger instantly.

For nearly two-hours, Clouzot keeps us in the trucks. With side shots and infamous close ups to our drivers, we are given a claustrophobic story complete with a bomb. The road is jagged, the danger is unknown, and all we have as viewers is what our characters give to us - and that is all we need. Instantly, the roles are reversed. Mr. Jo, our hot-headed juggernaut, begins to crumble. The idea of having so much danger strapped to the back of your car is too much for him to take within the first fifteen minutes. He is sick, sweating, and scared to accelerate even when life depends on it. His original layer of "bad-ass" has been wiped away, and his true colors (thanks Cyndi Lauper) shine through. What makes this interesting is that Luigi's character jumps in where Mr. Jo fails. That introduction, semi-bad blood scene that started this film takes fuller shape. The quintessential glass being half-empty or half-full falls into their lap. Luigi isn't afraid to push the truck, while Mr. Jo consistently stops, questioning his ability to go further. In one scene, he scampers away like a scared dog, showing us that muscles and money do not always equate to self-confidence.

My question to you: Which of these faces would your rather have jetting through the thick of a mountain? The dark Luigi, or the smoking Mario (yep, explosives are still riding behind him in this shot)? As bridges fall, rocks block, and oil sinks, it is up to the drivers to bring us to our destination. Which do you think makes it?

Danger lurks everywhere in this film. It isn't just two trucks repeating themselves from one destination to the next, Clouzot provides just enough tricks to keep audiences guessing until the very end. We are not given pre-destined characters from the start. Nobody is defined as the sole winner of this mission. From the opening credits, I did not see each event unfolding, nor did I see the different situations. As modern Hollywood spoon feeds each scene to you, Clouzot did an amazing job of giving us the same spots, but with different results. Especially when it came to the oil-slicked ending. Or rather, the less emotionally attached finale. That will pull your mind further into this tale. The sudden de-appreciation for two central character. Clouzot doesn't extend the inevitable, he merely says to his audience, "That is how life is..." Rather nonchalant and ominous together. The photo below represents one of my favorite scenes. Outside of the Criterion created iconic image of the two men, drenched in oil, looking as if life has handed them a knuckle sandwich, the bridge scene takes the cake. The beauty of the first pass, knowing what dangers lurk, to the devilish second pass, with egos and unknowns taking the wheel. Not only is it beautifully filmed, but within that one scene (two if you are counting), but we learn the most of our characters in one instance. Showing the value of Clouzot, but also the story AND the power of our actors.

I must warn about this film, not in a negative sense, but merely quality control. The original Criterion version of this film, the cover contains the infamous oil scene, is a horrible transfer and disastrously translated. I had the unique opportunity to watch both, and the newer release (I believe the original is out of print) is by far a stronger quality than the latter. Not only with visuals, but merely the dialogue seems less wooden. I am glad the revisited this film and gave it a stronger quality release that it so deserved.

Overall, in case you were reading a completely different blog, I loved this film. I already know several people who will find this gift waiting for them this year. The Wages of Fear is one of those films you want other people to experience, you want them to be on the edge of their seat, waiting to see the pipe-less adventures of Mario & Luigi. I cannot wait to watch this film again. The experience, the horror, the fears, the explosions - it just had everything a modern cinematic wonder would obviously lack. It impresses me that films without technology still rank as stronger films. The ultimate question being, has technology really helped us improve our movie-going experience. Could you imagine The Wages of Fear in 3D? Disgusting. This was a brilliant slice of movie making. Found in my "Videohound 2002" book, this nearly wraps up my Ws and I am headed to the world of anarchy, piercings, and punks. Full steam ahead. Blue stars with green highlight all the way!!