Night of the HunterSome children are burdened with the knowledge that not all monsters are found in story books. Set at the early years of the Great Depression, The Night of the Hunter is a film about two young children--John Harper (Billy Chapin), and his younger sister, Pearl (Sally Jane Bruce)--who are forced to shoulder a secret placed upon them by their father, Ben (Peter Graves), hanged following a double murder and robbery of ten thousand dollars. Ben has the misfortune of sharing his cell with a phony preacher and Bluebeard-esque serial killer of widows named Harry Powell (Robert Mitchum), who catches wind of Ben's filthy lucre and sets to woo the widowed Willa Harper (Shelley Winters), working his evil ways.
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Despite being the antagonist, Harry Powell becomes the chilling central figure in Night of the Hunter. Powell is first seen driving through the countryside--in a car later revealed to be stolen--just after a group of children discover the body of his most recent victim--and he is grateful for the Lord "providing" for him, justifying his murderous rage against women as doing "God's work". He attends a burlesque and seethes with rage at the dancer, even if his trademark switchblade pops up and through his coat pocket as he watches, slyly insinuating his conflicted feelings of arousal. Not much is said of Powell's past but the suggestion is that he was raised in a home with strict upbringing, inheriting and expanding on the abuse he received, likely from his mother; regardless, John distrusts him from the moment he worms his way into their small town in West Virginia. Powell is successful in courting then marrying Willa, and employs a variety of subtle manipulations to make this happen, including recruiting Willa's employer and friend, Icey (Evelyn Varden), into advocating for the union. Although Powell professes to be a preacher, he is never seen with a Bible, and his interpretation of God's word is questionable at best. Along with his switchblade, Powell's other iconic props include the ominous tattoos on his hands, spelling out "hate" on his left, and "love" on his right. This conversation starter is his excuse to tell a parable that references the Bible, but is really his own invention, about the battle between love and hate--a yarn that has the banality of a cheaply thrown together circus act, swallowed like bait by those who haven't cracked a Bible in a while yet claim to be devout. Powell peppers his dialogue with words like "betwixt" and adds "-th" as a suffix with abandon to maintain the appearance of a man of faith; he even dramatically wrings his hands when he claims to feel sorrow at the suffering of others. The Night of the Hunter begins with the face of Rachel Cooper (Lillian Gish) reading to children--the professed embodiment of innocence--from the Bible, and warns of "false prophets" as being like "ravening wolves". Powell is always portrayed as a predator--in his behavior and in the way the camera lingers on him or captures him in a perspective that is a little off. Powell is a superficially charming man, which accounts for his success at seducing so many victims before Willa. He is handsome, well-dressed and well-spoken, and has a powerful voice and a charismatic presence about him--he even manages to impress Pearl early on, forcing John to keep her from inadvertently revealing the location of their father's stash to this sinister outsider.
Powell is a mythical force of evil--essentially a stand-in for the "big bad wolf", going from home to home and destroys them to satisfy his own evil urges. The Night of the Hunter was the sole film directed by Charles Laughton, perhaps better known for his reputation as an actor. The Night of the Hunter is an evocative drama that feels a lot like a fable or a story from the Bible, like the ones Rachel Cooper reads to the children. Even though Powell is a "wolf", John and Pearl are more akin to Hansel and Gretel, escaping the clutches of a killer that extends kindness but harbors malice and death. Powell doesn't just come into a home and destroy it immediately; he takes a more diabolical approach by undermining the foundations of what gives a family its strength. On their wedding night, Powell withholds intercourse from Willa and psychologically abuses her. He convinces her that it was her "sinful flesh" that drove Ben to commit murder and larceny, and makes her a deaconess in his burgeoning congregation--one that is more like a cult than a church. Powell's presence in The Night of the Hunter is felt as much as he is seen or heard, like he were the embodiment of fear itself. When John and Pearl are preparing for bed, the shadow of Powell's head and wide-brimmed hat creeps across the wall like a phantom. And when he prepares to murder Willa--who reveals that she knows that he married her under false pretenses--he gesticulates in the light of the moon with his dagger, resembling the vampire of F. W. Murnau's expressionistic classic monster movie, Nosferatu. Powell conceals his monstrous behavior with the slick veneer of a smooth charmer in public, but transforms when he believes he is safe to do so, like when he corners John and Pearl in the basement. After the children narrowly escape his clutches in the cellar, he lunges after them like a ghoul with outstretched talons. And as they (again) narrowly evade Powell by taking a skiff down the Ohio River, the wrathful preacher slogs through the mud and the waters, howling like a demon as he misses them by inches.
Powell is the kind of monster that haunts the dreams of children, and Mitchum's characterization of him has to be larger than life to evoke this. Just his silhouette and predilection toward singing hymns aloud is enough to conjure panic in the children, leaving a lasting trauma on John who becomes afraid of people who profess to speak for God. Powell is a pure psychopath, who exhibits no signs of guilt or remorse in the wake of his murderous impulses. There are few scenes as tragic and chilling as the one when Willa's corpse is first seen beneath the river's surface, her blank eyes staring outward while her hair sways in the current alongside the algae. There is something unnatural and even cartoon-like about Powell, like how he yelps with surprise and flies into histrionics when he experiences pain--he can dish it out, but he can't take it. When John slams the cellar door on his fingers, he goes wide-eyed and yips like a dog, and when Rachel shoots him with her shotgun while defending her home, he howls and moans like the metaphorical wolf that he is. Although Powell claims to commune with God, Rachel actually carries an aura of holiness about her, evidenced by her generosity toward children who have lost their families, and in the way that she shares passages from the Bible--not by preaching but by offering compassion to the children who represent the goodness in humanity. Even when her eldest ward, Ruby (Gloria Castillo), confesses that she lied about attending sowing lessons so that she could meet men instead, Rachel doesn't chastize her, recognizing that her interests were in finding love. Rachel is the counterpoint to Powell, who is himself anathema to all that is good and holy. This rings most true when Powell is lurking outside her home at night--having promised to come and claim John and Pearl by force--and begins to sing "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms", looking to demoralize Rachel and the others. Rachel doesn't panic, but rather joins in the harmony, showing that she will not be intimidated by the wolves pawing at her door, because she--and those she loves--are protected by faith and innocence, the armor of God.
Recommended for: Fans of a tense drama about an abusive and murderous guardian who terrorizes two children, forcing them to survive in spite of being hunted. The character of Harry Powell is so striking and memorable, that when Martin Scorsese remade Cape Fear, Robert De Niro borrowed elements of the character in his interpretation of Max Cady (also played by Mitchum in the original Cape Fear); echoes of Harry Powell can even be felt in films ranging from The Stepfather to Fanny and Alexander.
Powell is a mythical force of evil--essentially a stand-in for the "big bad wolf", going from home to home and destroys them to satisfy his own evil urges. The Night of the Hunter was the sole film directed by Charles Laughton, perhaps better known for his reputation as an actor. The Night of the Hunter is an evocative drama that feels a lot like a fable or a story from the Bible, like the ones Rachel Cooper reads to the children. Even though Powell is a "wolf", John and Pearl are more akin to Hansel and Gretel, escaping the clutches of a killer that extends kindness but harbors malice and death. Powell doesn't just come into a home and destroy it immediately; he takes a more diabolical approach by undermining the foundations of what gives a family its strength. On their wedding night, Powell withholds intercourse from Willa and psychologically abuses her. He convinces her that it was her "sinful flesh" that drove Ben to commit murder and larceny, and makes her a deaconess in his burgeoning congregation--one that is more like a cult than a church. Powell's presence in The Night of the Hunter is felt as much as he is seen or heard, like he were the embodiment of fear itself. When John and Pearl are preparing for bed, the shadow of Powell's head and wide-brimmed hat creeps across the wall like a phantom. And when he prepares to murder Willa--who reveals that she knows that he married her under false pretenses--he gesticulates in the light of the moon with his dagger, resembling the vampire of F. W. Murnau's expressionistic classic monster movie, Nosferatu. Powell conceals his monstrous behavior with the slick veneer of a smooth charmer in public, but transforms when he believes he is safe to do so, like when he corners John and Pearl in the basement. After the children narrowly escape his clutches in the cellar, he lunges after them like a ghoul with outstretched talons. And as they (again) narrowly evade Powell by taking a skiff down the Ohio River, the wrathful preacher slogs through the mud and the waters, howling like a demon as he misses them by inches.
Powell is the kind of monster that haunts the dreams of children, and Mitchum's characterization of him has to be larger than life to evoke this. Just his silhouette and predilection toward singing hymns aloud is enough to conjure panic in the children, leaving a lasting trauma on John who becomes afraid of people who profess to speak for God. Powell is a pure psychopath, who exhibits no signs of guilt or remorse in the wake of his murderous impulses. There are few scenes as tragic and chilling as the one when Willa's corpse is first seen beneath the river's surface, her blank eyes staring outward while her hair sways in the current alongside the algae. There is something unnatural and even cartoon-like about Powell, like how he yelps with surprise and flies into histrionics when he experiences pain--he can dish it out, but he can't take it. When John slams the cellar door on his fingers, he goes wide-eyed and yips like a dog, and when Rachel shoots him with her shotgun while defending her home, he howls and moans like the metaphorical wolf that he is. Although Powell claims to commune with God, Rachel actually carries an aura of holiness about her, evidenced by her generosity toward children who have lost their families, and in the way that she shares passages from the Bible--not by preaching but by offering compassion to the children who represent the goodness in humanity. Even when her eldest ward, Ruby (Gloria Castillo), confesses that she lied about attending sowing lessons so that she could meet men instead, Rachel doesn't chastize her, recognizing that her interests were in finding love. Rachel is the counterpoint to Powell, who is himself anathema to all that is good and holy. This rings most true when Powell is lurking outside her home at night--having promised to come and claim John and Pearl by force--and begins to sing "Leaning on the Everlasting Arms", looking to demoralize Rachel and the others. Rachel doesn't panic, but rather joins in the harmony, showing that she will not be intimidated by the wolves pawing at her door, because she--and those she loves--are protected by faith and innocence, the armor of God.
Recommended for: Fans of a tense drama about an abusive and murderous guardian who terrorizes two children, forcing them to survive in spite of being hunted. The character of Harry Powell is so striking and memorable, that when Martin Scorsese remade Cape Fear, Robert De Niro borrowed elements of the character in his interpretation of Max Cady (also played by Mitchum in the original Cape Fear); echoes of Harry Powell can even be felt in films ranging from The Stepfather to Fanny and Alexander.