An excellent anthology of current and prevailing theories in the field of literature and film, as well as illuminating chapters from film scholars on films adaptated from novels, which serve as compelling examples of theory in practice . Professor Naremore's introduction is especially lucid and well-written.

I own nearly every book written on Psycho -- but this one took me years to find. It's a virtual monograph -- less than 90 pages, with no art! But a very insightful piece of work about this exceptionally vital American masterpiece. Detailed scene by scene analysis; well worthwhile for Psycho-philes like me.

As James Naremore notes in the introductory chapters to this book, the term "noir" has become, for film crticism and academia in general, as amorphic, uncertain and dangerous a term as the films themselves; like Jane Greer in "Out of the Past," moving in and out of the shadows as she strolls into that Mexican barroom, noir seems to occupy several levels of meaning at once (as stylistic movement, historical marker, theoretical battleground and space of nostalgic recuperation), and every new piece of data and analysis added to the voluminous corpus of work that exists seems to simultaneously cast light and shadow onto its form. How wonderful, then, that we have a critic as graceful, piercing, and generous as James Naremore writing on the genre. One of the best American writers on film-- and certainly one of the best academics writing on any subject-- Naremore brings to noir the qualities anyone familiar with such previous works as The Films of Vincente Minnelli or The Magic World of Orson Welles will recognize-- intelligence, accessibility, thoroughness and an abiding love of the subject matter. He does a good job of sharing with the reader the insights and breakthroughs of psychoanalytic and feminist readings of the films, while offering his own (often different) readings and new historical connections (quick quiz to anyone who thinks they know everything about noir-- who is Boris Vian? And why does Naremore think he's the key figure in noir's history?), as well as updating and expanding the boundaries of the form to include such works as L.A. Confidential and John Woo's The Killer. And as always, he writes in a voice that wraps around the reader like a cloud of cigarette smoke, as stylish, rich and alluring as the films under discussion.

The story of B. Traven is as fascinating as any of his novels. A resident of Acapulco, Mexico, who wrote in English, he carefully clouded the issue of his real background, so that for many years he was believed to be one Berick Traven Torsvan, from Chicago, IL, and some even believed him to be Ambrose Bierce. It is still not possible to say with certainty who he actually was, but the best available evidence indicates that he was Ret Marut, a revolutionary anarchist who fled from Germany in the wake of the failure of the post-WWI revolution. This supposition at least has the advantage of squaring with the radical-Left political tenor of his novels, the most famous of which is Treasure of the Sierra Madre.

This is one of those books which has become inseparable from its better known movie version--it's probably impossible to read the story without picturing Humphrey Bogart and Walter Huston. As anyone whose ever seen the movie (which hopefully means everyone) will know, Dobbs is a down-at-the-heels American looking for work in the Mexican oil fields. He and Curtin, another roustabout, have idle dreams of getting rich quick, but it's not until they join up with the aged gold prospector Howard that they actually head into the Sierra Madre mountain range to find their fortune. It is Howard who enunciates Traven's political message and forecasts the plot of the tale :

[G]old is a very devilish sort of thing, believe me, boys. In the first place, it changes your character entirely. When you have it your soul is no longer the same as it was before. No getting away from that. You may have so much piled up that you can't carry it away; but, bet your blessed paradise, the more you have, the more you want to add, to make it just that much more. Like sitting at roulette. Just one more turn. So it goes on and on and on. You cease to distinguish between right and wrong. You can no longer see clearly what is good and what is bad. You lose your judgment. That's what it is.

Perhaps this too argues for Traven's Germanic origins, for sure enough, they do find gold, and within short order the men are acting like creatures out of the Brothers Grimm or the Ring of the Nibelungen, with predictably horrific and tragic results.

Traven's point here, though grounded in everything from Genesis to Teutonic myth to Marxism, is ridiculously utopian. It is not gold (or materialism generally) that makes men act like animals; filthy lucre is merely one more thing to fight over; but food, land, mates, beliefs, skin color, language, etc., serve equally well to make men lose their judgment. In this sense, the novel is horribly dated, obviously a product of a time before we'd seen just how evil socialism would turn out and the degree to which right and wrong would cease to be distinguishable to the practitioners of the anti-materialist ethos.

On the other hand, the awesome power which Traven confers upon gold, to corrupt the human soul, and the harkening back to ancient myth, somehow serve to give the novel a quality of timelessness. Read simply as a meditation on greed, it's hard to see how Traven's core message could ever be out of date. There's a whole lot of Dobbs in all of us; let's try to avoid his fate, eh?

GRADE : B+

Traven deserves recognition as one of the great social novelists, right next to Stienbeck and Orwell-anyone who wonders why need only to read this, his most well-known work (thanks to the film by John Huston). Traven's story is a simple enough tale of how greed can corrupt men, but his intimate portrait of the social conditions which brings this about is what makes the book special. Set in Mexico between the two World Wars, it starts with a destitute American vagabond who's reduced to begging for his meals. He joins up with another American to work at oil camps, only to be exploited and cheated out of their pay. Eventually the duo team up with an old prospector and head to the hills to seek gold.

When they do find some gold, it gradually begins to corrupt them like some cursed treasure from myth. Even though the old prospector warns the two younger men at length of what gold can do to men's minds, paranoia and obsession slowly infiltrate the men's heads. While the men's encounter with bandits is one of film's most famous moments ("Badges? We ain't got no badges! We don't need no badges!"), many other predators lurk in the dusty Mexican landscape. Traven's familiarity with the area is one of the elements that makes the book so strong, as he is able to capture the textures and smells of the mountains and bring them to life. As the story plays out, Traven seems to reveal a strong belief in karma or cosmic justice of sorts and in the end, only the indigenous Huichol Indians emerge as wholly admirable people.

I read this book when I was in the 7th grade. I did so primarily because I was a real Bogart fan way back then. I hadn't seen this particular movie at the time so the book was a whole new adventure for me. And an adventure it was. For years I was convinced that I, too, would eventually go gold mining in Mexico. I would spend hours trying to think about how I would sneak all my gold back into the country. Mind you, I don't believe I missed the point of the story even in my youth. It is a brilliantly told tale of how greed can destroy a man. Sounds simple enough but the beauty of the book lies in our being able to witness the gradual transformation of Fred C. Dobbs from a likeable, down-on-his-luck vagabond to a despicable, paranoid SOB who is obsessed with his gold. It wasn't until years later that I came to appreciate the politics of the book. As a social (not political) commentary it can stand alone. It worked fine for me that way until I had read his Jungle Books and others novels. Traven is an anarchist first and foremost and he articulates his case in all of his books; often in ways that may not seem readily apparent. Looking back at "Treasure" with this perspective, the images of anachism suddenly seem clear. We see three men down on their luck (read that to mean victims of industrialized society-two of the men were just cheated out of their pay after working, indirectly, for an oil company). They form a pact among themselves and go away from society to make their fortune. While away from society all is idyllic as the men work in harmony with each other, obeying the rules that they agreed on for themselves. A crisis arises when one briefly returns to society for supplies. When he returns, he is followed by others who corrupt the idyllic state. Soon after, there are some indications of changes in Dobbs character but the true changes occur when the decision to return to society is made.

Well, I'm no anarchist and you don't have to be either to enjoy this masterpiece. That, by the way, is true about all of Traven's works.

interesting book with info about the cinema and acting. well-written.

Terrific book illuminates superior acting in film using various techniques. Naremore's choices are astute: he recognizes, for instance, Cary Grant's star turn in "North by Northwest" as the superb performance that it is; and I'll always be pleased that he wrote of Robert DeNiro as Rupert Pupkin in "King of Comedy" (rather than what at first seems the obvious choice -- his perfomance in "Raging Bull") for his study. The Pupkin role is certainly more clearly "about" performance, but it cheers me to see that underrated masterpiece lauded.

This is an academic book, but a very readable one. Naremore is an engaging and observant writer whose passion for the subject is evident. Fine stuff.