Few films have the same sense of cinematic muscularity that Sorcerer does, and a large reason for this overwhelmingly visceral quality comes from the laser-focused direction of William Friedkin. A majority of this rugged, dangerous action-adventure movie is told with no dialogue, with Friedkin wholly trusting the near hallucinatory images from his cinematographers and realizing that the most powerful expression that cinema can offer is how the visual language of storytelling unfolds for the viewer. Existential in its themes and beyond grand in its epic scope, this is a thrilling, unthinkable piece of filmmaking, showcasing a director who clearly felt that he NEEDED to tell this story. Like Coppola’s Apocalypse Now and Herzog’s Fitzcarraldo, there’s this overwhelming sense of bravado that one feels while watching Sorcerer, as the viewer can clearly tell that the story being told could only have come from the mind of an obsessed filmmaker at the head of the controls. Yes, moviemaking, by its organic nature and process, is a collaborative effort, with multiple individuals contributing so that the art form feels complete by its conclusion. But with something like Sorcerer, and more recently a film like JC Chandor’s All is Lost, there’s a singular sensation that washes over you while experiencing the narrative; there’s a limitless quality to the endeavor that makes it feel alive and unpredictable. Tangerine Dream’s hypnotic score creates a feeling of damn near intoxication, and when combined with the stark (and often violent) visuals, Sorcerer continuously reminds you that you’re in a world where anything is possible. Roy Scheider leads the stoic and masculine cast with gritty panache, while the rest of the supporting players feel as if they were plucked off the streets and dropped into a major motion picture, giving the film a level of verisimilitude that enhances each robust set piece. Friedkin based his cult classic on the 50’s French film Wages of Fear, taking the core plot points and infusing them with a sense of new-found awe and astonishment. The bridge sequence, to this day, defies logic and reasonability (it’s as insane as the hauling of the boat over the mountain in Fitzcarraldo) while the entire film begins to take the shape of a vivid and lush nightmare. You’re in the jungle driving a souped-up dump truck with lots of nitro stored in the back – I’m not sure if there could be anything more sketchy than that. One of those films that was misunderstood and shoved aside at the time of its initial release, the film has righteously become a cult, if not slightly lost, classic. And thanks to the somewhat recently released and absolutely STUNNING Blu-ray special edition, Sorcerer gets a chance to re-enter the cinematic landscape as one of the final films from the auteur driven period of studio pictures that placed an emphasis on the unconventional, while a filmmaker was pushed to their limits to unleash their magnum opus.
Podcasting Them Softly 