Immediately preceding the French New Wave, former film critic and screenwriter Henri-Georges Clouzot turned his attention to directing during the Occupation, only to find himself barred two years by the French "purification committee" for complicity with the Germans. This, despite the fact that the Nazis condemned his dark portrayal of small town life in Le Corbeau that not so subtly blasted society during those war years; French patriots didn't like the film either. Clouzot never abandoned his grim views of life, but established himself to American audiences as the "French Hitchcock" with Diabolique and The Wages of Fear (Le Salaire de la peur).

Taking the 1953 Grand Prize at Cannes, Clouzot's The Wages of Fear received its due from the international audience as well. Combining elements of film noir with the suspense-thriller genre, it's a film that nearly equals the best of the Master himself. Clouzot certainly incorporates Hitchcock's use of the MacGuffin (nitroglycerin), his skills at incorporating humor and character development within the narrative, and a roller coaster of a thrill ride that leaves the audience on the edge of their seats.

Although the 148 minute director's cut may test a few viewers, it allows Clouzot to effectively paint the backdrop to his thriller without rushing to the action sequences—mirroring the opening sequences of John Huston's magnificent The Treasure of Sierra Madre. Set initially in a remote South American village where nothing ever happens, a familiar group of men gather at the bar; they have nothing better to do. Without jobs or opportunities, they pass the time drinking, spitting on the floor, flirting with the cleaning girl (played by the director's wife Vera Clouzot), getting on each others nerves, and somehow surviving without any visible means of support. Even the doctor hangs out with the "tramps" since he has to wait for patients.

We eventually learn that American oil company SOC employs men occasionally, but never under ideal situations. Indeed, the company needs a ton of nitroglycerin delivered 300 miles over rural roads with unfathomable hazards via trucks that have no shocks or safety measures. To accomplish this, they decide to send two trucks with the idea that one of them might be lucky enough to make it through, and the company's mission will be fulfilled. For bait, they offer $2,000 payment, which is a large fortune for this neck of the woods. Hey, anything to escape this life of total boredom!

After truck driving tryouts, four men are selected for the "suicidal journey," most significantly Mario (Yves Montand in his first leading role). Clouzot sets up the suspense magnificently, initially demonstrating how just one drop of nitro results in a loud blast—and these guys are carrying a ton each of virtually unprotected jugs of the explosive. Setting out in two trucks, much of the camera work focuses on the two pairs of men as they maneuver through pot holes, careen around corners, and slog their way through oil slicks and ponds.

In the film's most intense sequence, the smaller truck works its way back and forth on a rickety and slippery wooden platform (with some rotten timber) before it can proceed through a detour. But now, how in the hell is the larger truck going to navigate this obstacle? With part of the rotten platform already gone, Mario and his partner Jo (Charles Vanel) are pushed to the edge, get caught in a cable, and slide around—knowing that any miscue is their final act. A man has to be either crazy or desperate to go through this, but the audience is the happy recipient of the drama.

Even better is the suitable ending that doesn't require the same formula that Hollywood producers insist on—happy endings and morality plays be damne! In that sense, Clouzot's film is reminiscent of Huston's 1948 classic, but his film contains many more thrills and relies even less on dialogue. Clouzot's camera captures the suspense as visually as Hitchcock, often making subtitles superfluous—it darts from one man's eyes to the other, to a coming hazard, to the nitro, to the tires, to one man's cigar stub, another's hands. It's a simple narrative that unfolds easily after the extended introduction that often had me gasping or muttering "Oh, my God!"

And now a pristine DVD is available from The Criterion Collection. The Wages of Fear contains a number of worthy extras, including: an archive interview with lead actor Yves Montand and current interviews with assistant director Michel Romanoff and Clouzot biographer Marc Godin. Clouzot's suspense-thriller is one of the finest films re-released from the Criterion Collection's warehouse; it's one helluva "road movie" that film buffs will want to own.