by Douglas
Messerli
James Agee
and Charles Laughton (screenplay), Charles Laughton (director) The Night of the Hunter / 1955
Some of these
are quite obvious. The central figure, Reverend Harry Powell (Robert Mitchum)
pretends to be a man of God while he goes about the south marrying windows and
killing them for their money—quite similarly to Hitchcock's beloved Charles
Oakley in Shadow of a Doubt. Powell
is clearly a kind schizophrenic, a man who is obviously attracted to women but
simultaneously disgusted by them:
Rev. Harry Powell: There are things you do hate, Lord. Perfume-
smellin'
things, lacy things, things with curly hair.
Even his hands are tattooed with an opposition that
symbolizes the polarizations within the man:
"Love and hate," which he explains to curious strangers as an
eternal battle between good and bad.
Powell is a sweet-talking, seemingly gentle man who
underneath is surging with a violent hate, a misogynistic monster, who has no
attraction to children either.
Similarly, the
two Harper children, Pearl and John, react to Powell and his sudden intrusion
in their lives quite differently. Pearl (Sally Jane Bruce) is attracted to the
stranger, enchanted by him, while John (Billy Chapin) is terrified and
rebellious. In part, of course, he recognizes that the "preacher" is
attempting to get him to break his bond with his dead father by admitting that
he knows where the father has hidden his stolen money. But he also knows that
despite Powell's lie that Ben Harper had told him in the jail cell that he
thrown the money into the river, that Powell is intent on finding the money
through intimidation of the children.
Even the Spoons,
in whose store Willa Harper (Shelley Winters) works, are of opposite minds
regarding Powell. Mrs. Spoon (Evelyn Varden) sees a strong and good man, a
perfect companion for the widow Willa, while Walt Spoon senses something is
wrong about him.
The men and boys
generally see through him while the women and young girls perceive him perhaps
as something different from the country men to whom they are accustomed.
The pattern
continues, Willa becoming attracted to him at first seeks passion, but Powell
rejects any sexual advances establishing the love-hate relationship he has with
women further revealing the kind Jekyll and Hyde pulls he has within.
Laughton plays
these dualities out in a number of ways in his images. The small river city of
the Harper world is quite isolated, while at the same time larger river boats
bearing people and goods pass within waving distance. Life seems rich and solid
in this small-town world, the Spoons passing out sweet treats to its young
citizens, while at the same time the movie presents time and again a world
wherein children are homeless and hungry, a justification for Ben Harper's
robbery:
Ben Harper: I got tired of
seein' children roamin' the woodlands
without food,
children roamin' the highways in this here
Depression,
children sleepin' in old abandoned car bodies
in junk heaps.
And I promised myself that I'd never see
my young-uns had
want.
When the
children are forced to escape down river, like Huck Finn they leave
civilization such as it is and move into a magic world overseen by owls, foxes,
rabbits, and other animals, and the film, suddenly desolate of social forces,
becomes magical and frightening at the same time. Throughout, Laughton plays
with light and shadow, particularly in the barn scene where the children have
temporarily stopped for the night to sleep. As the boy awakens, just before
sunrise, the light is juxtaposed to the dark shadows of the barn at the very
moment that the menacing preacher passes by: Laughton and his cinematographer
captured the oddity of the moment, the sense of a children's tale and a dark
adult world surrounding, by using a puppet instead of a real man.
The story
overall presents a struggle between escape and discovery, endurance and
passivity, innocence and knowledge, and, finally, life or death. A final
showdown between forces is inevitable as the good and kind Rachel Cooper
(Lillian Gish) faces off with the evil Powell. When
But even here, in
the horror of the central character's actions, Laughton finds a kind of
duality, in part just by casting Robert Mitchum in the role, whose breezy
diffidence makes the character almost comic at times. Mitchum at this time in
his life had apparently given up caring about acting and Hollywood in general,
and in The Night of Hunter he seems
at moments to almost be sleepwalking through the role—that is until (evidently
carefully coached by Laughton) he suddenly comes vividly alive as a potential
villain. Two scenes will represent the many instances of this dark reawakening
in the movie:
Powell: [to Pearl] Now just tell me. Where's the money hid?
Pearl: But I swore I promised John I wouldn't tell.
Powell: John doesn't matter! Can't you get that through your
head, you poor, silly, disgusting little wretch.
The first line is spoken with great tenderness and patience,
while Powell's follow up seethes with rage.
A short while
later we see a similar transformation within a single line as the children plot
their escape in the basement:
Powell: I can hear you whisperin' children, so I know you're
down there. I can feel myself gettin' awful mad. I'm out
of patience children. I'm coming now to find you.
The growing intensity of these lines cannot help but remind
one of Mitchum's remarkable acting in the later film, Cape Fear, where he played a similarly deranged figure threatening
a family.
Finally, Laughton
even demonstrates the flip side of the one thing that the young John Harper
uses as a totem for his and his sister's survival: the memory of his father
symbolized by the money hidden in Pearl's doll. Upon witnessing the police
capture Powell, he is suddenly reminded of his father's capture, and in that
encounter with the past the boy realizes the evil that he himself has
participated in by keeping the money. Springing forward, he comes to life—in a
role in which he has been forced to primarily play a stubborn and quiet
child—throwing the money across Powell's body as if the man might be saved by
getting what he has so awfully desired. In the end, the children "abide
and endure" because through their innocence they perceive the numerous
contradictions of adult life.
If Powell is not
truly a “gay” character—despite his hatred of women and the children they
produce—he is most certainly is perverse, a concept which queer director
Charles Laughton, whose wife Elsa Lanchester, having served perfectly in their
lavender marriage, talked about his homosexuality several times over the years.
Laughton himself was rumored to be very much attracted to young boys, loving
them, whereas Powell was ready to destroy both children. Yet Laughton knew all
about perversity and the other kinds of queerness his character represented and
openly revealed his knowledge in a children’s horror film never again quite
matched in film history.
Los Angeles,
August 18, 2012
Reprinted from International
Cinema Review (August 2012).
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