The Night of the Hunter (1955)

When I first watched this a few years ago, I came to two conclusions: first, that it wasn't really what I'd consider a Christmas movie, and second that it was a goddamn masterpiece. That second point isn't exactly a new observation, even if audiences and critics weren't ready for Charles Laughton's visionary work of horror when it came out. The Night of the Hunter may have been a flop in 1955, but these days any list of "the greatest movies ever made" that doesn't include it is liable to face criticism of its own. I'll touch on why it's become so well regarded, but first let's tackle the thornier issue: whether the film's admittedly brief holiday sequence qualifies it for discussion here.

The sequence in question occurs at the very end of the movie following a time jump - prior to that, the film seems to be set in the summer, though the precise date is left nebulous. It's a relatively brief sequence serving as a sort of coda to the main plot, which is why I dismissed the idea of treating it as a Christmas movie on first viewing. On rewatch, though, I was reminded there's a great deal of thematic weight given to the holidays, which serve as both a resolution to the characters' arcs and a pointed critique of our culture, as well as a connection to religious subtext (and text) throughout.

Is that sufficient for the label? Perhaps. I've certainly made similar cases for romantic comedies where the holidays play a subtle but significant role in the resolution, so it seems like a similar case could be made here. At the same time, the movie fails several other litmus tests I sometimes rely on: the time spent on the holidays is fairly short, if the setting of the ending were changed it wouldn't drastically change the work as a whole (though this one comes close), and the experience of watching this during the holiday season isn't likely to feel fundamentally different than watching it at any other time of the year.

Anecdotally, I'll add that I've seen this pop up on quite a few Christmas lists (typically those purporting to be "unconventional"), so it seems to at least be disputed. I'm not entirely sure where I fall in this debate, but between the undeniable significance of the film and the interesting ways it uses its holiday connection, I felt it was worth discussing either way.

Let's talk story. The movie is centered around a brother and sister, John and Pearl, who witness their father being arrested after hiding ten thousand dollars in Pearl's doll and swearing the children to secrecy. Soon after, their father is executed, but not before sharing a cell with Harry Powell (played by Robert Mitchum), either a serial killer masquerading as a preacher or... well... just a serial killer who's a preacher, depending on how you want to look at it. The movie takes a couple opportunities to state Powell's not really a preacher, but it's not entirely clear what that means beyond covering its bases around the Hays Code. He certainly preaches, and the movie goes out of its way to ensure we know he believes what he's saying (and in fact believes God is guiding him), so it seems academic whether or not he's been ordained by any specific denomination.

Regardless, at the start of the movie he's arrested and imprisoned for stealing a car - the police don't yet realize he's also guilty of dozens of murders, primarily women he marries and kills. After his cell mate talks in his sleep, Powell learns that the condemned man's kids know the location of the missing $10,000. When he's released, Powell goes to their town and woos their mother (played by Shelley Winters), who - despite being reluctant - is pressured by her neighbors to marry the preacher.

John doesn't like his new father-in-law at all, but Pearl - being younger - is more open to him. Still, she listens to her brother and withholds the location of the money as Powell pressures them. When their mother learns what he's up to, he kills her, dumps her body and car in the river, and pretends she's left him. He confronts the kids and promises to kill John, as well, if they don't tell him what he wants to know, but John is able to escape. He manages to get himself and Pearl to the river, and they take a small rowboat downriver.

But of course, Powell is never far behind. After a few days, John and Pearl are found by Mrs. Cooper (Lillian Gish), a somewhat eccentric but kindhearted woman who manages to become the film's hero, despite only showing up in the third act (aside from a very brief intro at the start). Cooper is raising a household of children she's adopted, and - despite a tough exterior - she's shown to care deeply for the kids. We also learn she adheres to a philosophy emphasizing forgiveness, compassion, and not judging others harshly for their mistakes.

Eventually Powell catches up to the kids and appears at Mrs. Cooper's home. She sees through his lies and before long has a shotgun pointed at the killer (side note: this moment is somehow even more cathartic than it sounds). She drives him off, but he comes back at night in an attempt to get at the children. This time she takes the shot, wounding him and sending him running to her barn, where the police eventually apprehend him. In the process, John has an emotional breakdown and/or epiphany and reveals the money he's been hiding.

Following a brief sequence showing Powell's trial, we cut to Christmas. Powell is about to be hung for his crimes, and almost everyone in town is eager for his blood, resulting in an angry mob armed with farm implements and torches briefly attempting to use the kids as props to fuel their rage until Cooper manages to get the kids out of there and back home.

We learn John is beginning to adjust to his new home and coming to view Mrs. Cooper as a mother. We also get a direct summary of the movie's themes as Cooper muses on the hypocrisy of a society that pretends to revere Christmas while failing to look after children and embracing violence. This also calls back a brief bit at the start where she warns about false prophets, and it ties to a story Powell tells about the struggle between the forces of Love and Hate (he has these words tattooed on his knuckles), a confrontation he can only conceive of in violent terms.

The Night of the Hunter is, of course, a movie about religion, but it's one pitting two versions of religion against each other and finding the regressive, conservative version lacking. Instead, this idolizes peace, love, and kindness, only permitting violence as a last resort and even then never condoning the enjoyment of death or suffering. Even Powell's end is portrayed in a disturbing light, with those celebrating his demise framed as a mindless, hypocritical mob.

Christmas is a symbol of the love that the mob should emulate, but in the end, they're only giving into the hate driving Powell and those like him. It's an indictment of rightwing Christianity that remains as relevant after almost seventy years.

It's actually an indictment of quite a few aspects of conservatism. The movie touches on the policing of women's bodies and their desire, the negative ramifications of a society that forces women into marriage, and the evils of misogyny. Again, all themes sadly still relevant today.

That's not really why the movie has endured, however. Laughton's film was ahead of its time as a horror movie, exploring a tone lying between that genre and fairytale wonder. I have no idea whether this was the first movie to use children's music to build a tense, otherworldly sense of dread, but regardless of whether it originated the trope, it does so in a manner that feels modern and effective.

On top of all that, the movie features some gorgeous, now iconic shots, many influenced by German Expressionist horror. The image of Powell's knuckles reading, "Love" and "Hate" is certainly notable, as are sequences in which the children float down the river while the camera frames them alongside animals. But the most jaw-dropping moment is one where we're shown their mother seated in her car on the bottom of the river, neck cut open and hair flowing in the water. For 1955, this looks terrifyingly real. Hell, it's still scary now.

If I have one complaint, it's that Pearl isn't really developed as a character, so much as an object John needs to contend with. But it's hard to treat that too seriously when the movie also inverts sexist tropes, both through the heroic and wise Mrs. Cooper and by reversing the "evil stepmother" archetype.

It's a fantastic film, regardless of whether you want to call it a Christmas movie or not, well worth seeking out if you haven't already done so. All the more so if you're a fan of horror in any incarnation: this is easily one of the most important films in that genre ever made.