150 Word Review: 'Night of the Hunter' (1955)

It's a hard world for little things

Photo: United Artists

There are so many unforgettable, haunting tableaus in Night of the Hunter. Shelly Winter, as the poor murdered widow Willa, sitting in the passenger side of a car at the bottom of a river, her hair dancing in the current as if it was the wind. The silhouette of a sinister preacher riding a horse in the distance, a monster stalking children, singing a Godly church hymn. And then there's Lilian Gish sitting on the porch at night with a rifle, protecting her brood, a family of orphans, from the wickedness of man.

Speaking of men, they're all thieves or cowards or Robert Mitchum's murderous predator, the words 'love' and 'hate' tattooed on his knuckles. Night of the Hunter is legendary actor Charles Laughton's only directorial effort, a Southern gothic Depression-era fable about a fallen world where one good woman and two children stand up to evil and greed personified.

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I HAVE FEELINGS: The moment my parents left the house—to go to a movie, or dinner, or attend a party—my older sister would immediately, methodically, turn off the lights. One by one. And in the darkness of our modest ranch-style house she would start singing, softly at first, and then loudly:

Leaning... leaning! Safe and secure from all alarms! Leaning... leaning! Leaning on the everlasting arms!

This is the hymn Robert Mitchum croons in Night of the Hunter, which was one of many black and white movies I'd watch with my mom and sister. In those days, decades ago, my mother would flip through the channels and if she happened on something that moved her when she was younger, she'd shout my name and I'd rush to her. Night of the Hunter was a financial and critical bomb back in 1955, but its haunted the dreams of the living ever since.

Director Charles Laughton touches on a universal story, one about mothers and their children, and wolves. He is both hopeful but realistic—there are people out there who do bad just because it’s fun and easy.

Mitchum's character is a smooth-talking, folksy psychopath who talks to God about the women he's killed. He hunts a brother and sister who know where their hanged father hid stolen money; first, he cuts the throat of their mother, after marrying her. They make their escape down the river. Mitchum’s character then persues them, slowly, while belting a song about God's strength.

Leaning... leaning! Safe and secure from all alarms! Leaning... leaning! Leaning on the everlasting arms!

The moment my sister would start singing "Leaning... leaning," I'd start shrieking and laughing in terror. She;d stalk me through the lightless house, and she knew all my hiding places. It was futle to run, but I fought the tickle attack as long as I could. Later, ice cream sandwiches.

Wendy has been gone almost 13 years now, and I thought about her while watching an 11AM showing of Night of the Hunter at the Nighthawk Cinema near Prospect Park in Brooklyn. I went with an old friend and watched a movie I had seen a dozen times at least, but never projected on the big screen. Bright, silver, ghostly. I think about her all the time and I thought about her while sitting in that theater. She can still find me in the dark.