Notes on "The Night of The Hunter"

Bold, adventurous, and wonderfully singular would all be apt descriptors for The Night of The Hunter (Laughton, 1955). A picture bathed and cloaked in shadow and corruption, yet whose ideas are as optimistic and bright as sunshine. At the core, this is a story of good vs. evil, of religion, of childhood and family values. Rarely are children so understood and treated with such compassion in the movies as they are here. Our hero in this story is a little boy who protects his baby sister from all harm, at all costs. What could be more noble? The quest taken here is one of a child reclaiming the innocence and happiness of life, for himself and his little sister, after it was stolen by a seemingly unstoppable evil. As we grow, the purity of childhood and the tenderness of our parents grow farther and farther away. Good people expose themselves to the evil and pure vile of the world to cultivate empathy for others. Some people do this willingly while others are forced into this reality due to a personal tragedy. Regardless though, there is a selfish desire in us all to hide from this evil and escape down a river somewhere. The Night of The Hunter is heart-wrenching wish fulfillment. Indeed, this is the response to the call of the inner child in us all. What can be said about the centerpiece of this film? Two lullabies bookending a gothic odyssey down a river, as the creatures of the forest and swamp watch over our two young protagonists. This is pure fairy tale. And why not? The first lullaby represents the inner monologue of a child, and the confidence Charles Laughton has in his direction allows this moment to feel as if it is the most important thing in the world. He understands that there is probably nothing more insightful than the thoughts of a child, and he loves his characters so much that he grants them a moment of clarity that few characters are allowed to have in the movies. The second lullaby is for the audience. Although, it is more of a prayer than a lullaby. A disembodied narrator breaks the fourth wall to sing to these kids, but the lyrics should echo the viewer's thoughts. She pleads for the heroes inside the screen to rest, and to dream, and with one degree of separation, she is pleading for the audience to do the same. Again, she is talking to the restless and discontent child inside us all. The repeated motif of lullabies and hymns is some of the most beautiful and transportive use of music ever in film, especially in the context of the wonderful work done by the actors. Billy Chapin and Sally Jane Bruce deliver two of the most endearing child performances ever in film, but the groundbreaking work done by Robert Mitchum and Lillian Gish, playing two opposite sides of the religious coin, provide the thesis for the film. Religion at its most oppressive and evil as represented by Robert Mitchum, and at its most loving and kind as represented by Lillian Gish. Going back to the idea of song, their beautiful duet shows these opposing factions of religion converging and melding together and asks the audience to pick which path they will follow. Despite the threat of the film being the horror and evil of religion, this is a film that is unapologetically pro-religion and pro-God but warns that there is perhaps nothing as vile as a corrupted religious figure. The corruption of something as innocent as a loving God or a child, and how we “endure and abide” this corruption, as Rachel Cooper says, is the point Laughton is making. We are small, and it’s a hard world for little things, but not if we stick together. My life has been marked by before I saw The Night of The Hunter and after I saw it.