The Night of the Hunter (1955)

My Absolute Favorite Film has a new calling card. “The Night of the Hunter” is a stark black-and-white Southern gothic horror about a serial killer preacher (Robert Mitchum) who sets his demonic eyes on a widow (Shelley Winters) and her children (Billy Chapin and Sally Jane Bruce) as he seeks stolen money. Mitchum’s Rev. Harry Powell is film’s greatest villain, a singer of hymns who talks to God, assured his evil deeds are natural. “There’s plenty of killings in your book.” The genius realization: Charles Laughton directs this masterpiece for the child in us all, especially those of us who when young were suspicious of all those churchy smiles. “Hunter” is a child’s worst nightmare: Rooms boast crazed geometric shapes, wild animals loom gigantic, mother dies, rivers flow backward, and streetlamps throw evil shadows on walls. Mitchum’s preacher -- one hand tattooed LOVE, the other marked HATE -- turns faith into a war on every innocent soul. If the final closing words of reassurance from Lilian Gish’s kindly matriarch go on too long, it is not for the benefit of the terrified, surviving children on screen, but us in the audience. An absolute perfect marvel for soul, heart, and mind. A+

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