Review of The Night of the Hunter (1955) by Patricia V — 26 Nov 2010

One of the most unique and hypnotic of all American films, an incredible merging of expressionistic art and rich, potent storytelling. Robert Mitchum submits his most extraordinary performance as Harry Powell, the terrifying self-proclaimed servant of God who makes it his holy task to stalk and pillage widowers with his trusty "sword".

His infamous reenactment of the battle of Love and Hate stands as a remarkable rendering of insanity, and his various visual and verbal forays into darkness show how concretely a villain can be made without literal violence or ugliness.

He is a symbol of terror that is slowly and steadily built, and consequently he ultimately becomes far scarier than the conventional monsters we've become accustomed to (and bored of) in the movies.

In order to make a great villain a story must have a greater hero, and there is no worthier person of sympathy than a child; this story gives us two of them, played wonderfully by Billy Chapin and Sally Jane Bruce.

They are perfect parts innocent and curious, and to see the narrative from their eyes (with the help of Laughton's intricate camera work) is to experience the horror of the film in the most vulnerable way.

Shelley Winters is nearly as frightening as Mitchum as the example in flesh and blood of the spellbound victim of the false prophet, and Lilian Gish polishes the last third of the movie off with a powerful turn as the woman who can still believe in the will of children.

Towering above even the work of Orson Welles as an outing in visual perfection and inventiveness, Charles Laughton's only directorial film remains an important artifact in the medium's history as well as an indicator that even a filmmaker with a mastery of the medium such as this can be ruined without popularity and financial success.