Sorcerer (1977)

By 1977, William Friedkin was firmly established in the upper echelons of Hollywood. His two hits, 'The French Connection' (1971) and, most famously, 'The Exorcist' (1973) were both heralded as classics. The latter, of course, being one of the most famous films of all time. Then he wandered off to spend the next few years in five countries on three continents making his next film. The result was 'Sorcerer'. 

Allow me for a moment to go on a diatribe about film consumption in the modern age. The common way to watch films these days is through one of many streaming platforms. However, there are certain films that do not make it onto any of these platforms and are thus lost to the netherworlds of nowhere and that's it, they're gone. You can't buy them, rent them or watch them anywhere. Whether it be ownership politics, or licensing issues, or algorithmic demons controlling everything and everyone, who knows? Or it may be, in the case of this film, that they had the misfortune of being released the same time as 'Star Wars' and absolutely tanked at the box office. Whatever the reason, people are being deprived of a whole generation of great films. Like 'Sorcerer'. You can't find it anywhere, even though it is a stone-cold classic. 

It opens in four different corners of the world, with four characters finding their way into sufficiently dire circumstances that their only remaining option is to flee to a South American mountain town, where they exist in a fairly desperate state of poverty and bewilderment. The singular source of income for anyone in the region is a nearby oil refinery and they are confined to working long hard hours for pennies. Slowly the exiles among the local peasantry become aware of each other and suspect that they may all have similar reasons for being there. Mistrust is in the air and, too destitute to leave, they all appear doomed to exist in this purgatory for what looks like eternity.   

But, where you initially feel like we're being set up for a some sort of crime drama, the film takes a sudden turn. An opportunity arises for the best truck drivers in town to take on a very dangerous job (in fact, the word 'dangerous' doesn't even cover it) for a large sum of money. Suddenly the doomed folk of this region see a way out, even if it looks like a suicide mission. So begins one of the most anxiety-inducing and stressful journeys I've ever watched in film history. 

This film is a masterclass in tension-building. For anyone who thinks that the sky opening up - alien forms surfing through, blowing up every building in Manhattan - creates dramatic tension, think again. Try watching a truck loaded with highly volatile explosives, creaking it's way painfully slowly across a decidedly non-load-bearing wooden bridge. My god, the stress. The vehicles themselves seem constantly on the brink of falling apart and, because of the time taken beforehand to load the backstories with pathos, everything is on the line at every turn. The sound design is absolutely flawless and truly shows the magic of the art-form at work. These rickety old trucks creak and hiss and moan their way along one treacherous road after another, each man knowing that any wrong move means instant death. Couple that with each persons knowledge that if the others die and they survive their share only increases, and you've got your senses on about as high alert as you can get. 

Multiple times I found myself audibly yelling at the screen and feeling the overwhelming desire to take a break. But you really feel the benefit by staying with it and putting yourself through the meat grinder for the whole film. After all, that is what movies are all about. Also, from a technical standpoint, today's filmmaking methods have become so cookie-cutter clean that you wonder if it's lost something along the way. That's not to say that dazzling, iceberg-crisp, digital cinematography isn't to be admired, you'd be mad to think there's not something astounding about the work of someone like Emmanuel Lubezki, but there is something so visceral about the way this film is put together that it just ratchets things up to an almost unbearable level. The scenes of civil unrest feature some seriously fast cuts and shoddy camerawork, but you feel like you're slap bang in the middle of it, and you want out. It smothers you completely. The same goes of the many scenes of the trucks simply trying to get where they are going. It's painstaking, mostly devoid of score, sometimes completely out of focus and alot of times not colour-sequenced at all, but all of that is besides the point. You're supposed to feel a film, deep in the old soul bone. You want that uncertainty. Is this staged or is this real? Are these actors safe or are they actually in danger? (I'm still not entirely sure). That, my friends, is where the magic lies. When you watch The Avengers, you know they are in a blue room somewhere in Burbank and still have the taste of a pumpkin spice latte on their lips. Here, especially with the nerve shredding rope-bridge sequence, death feels like a truly tangible outcome. 

This film should be an absolute must for anyone interested in filmmaking. It is a thriller in the truest sense of the word and features no star power other than the ever-brilliant Roy Scheider. The palpable feeling of unease and danger is built so powerfully that it feels like some long-forgotten sorcery (get it) has been unearthed for us young'ins to learn from and enjoy. It's also Stephen King's favourite film, which makes a lot of sense. A wonderful, if completely draining, experience that should be available everywhere. At once. Please and thank you. 

JB.