Things get dark next with 1955’s classic thriller The Night of the Hunter, another film that perhaps seriously stretches the definition of what we might term a ‘Christmas movie’, but hear me out. Again, this is one that appears on dozens of lists of ‘underappreciated Christmas classics’ and it does climax on Christmas day with some deep religious themes, so there’s definitely something here. It’s also celebrated as one of the greatest films of all time, which I’m not so sure about - it’s no Pineapple Express, but it’s certainly special.
Robert Mitchum seethes with menace as the psychotic bogus preacher Harry Powell, moving from town to town taking advantage of lonely widows, only to kill them off for their money. Serving time for grand theft auto, Powell shares a cell with bank robber and murderer Ben Harper (Peter Graves) who lets slip that he told his kids where he’d stashed his loot. Naturally, freshly released Powell makes the moves on Harper’s missus Willa (Shelley Winters) immediately after the robber is sent to the chair.
It’s fascinating to watch this serpentine woman-hater who genuinely believes he’s doing the lord’s good work, using bible sermons to get the community wrapped around his little finger. Only the children smell a rat, while half the town fall under the spell of this jerk with “love” and “hate” tattooed on each hand. Mitchum is a classic gothic villain, singing hymns in his deep voice and chilling blood with his thousand yard stare.
This can all be read as an allegory of the way that politicians, religious extremists and, yes, corporations capitalising on the lure of Christmas regularly use the word of ‘God’ to get credulous people to do what they want. I’m reminded of the mindless horde that stormed the American capitol in January, folk who believed they were doing ‘God’s work’ by causing terror and inflicting violence and watching this affecting film it’s easy to see that this shit is as old as time. I’m also reminded of the damage so-called ‘charming’ sociopaths holding bibles can do to the world.
It’s not long before Willa’s been bumped off, with the second half of the film seeing Powell hunting the kids across the state. Luckily the tenacious little buggers hook up with Lillian Gish’s angelic but hardened foster carer Rachel who’s more than a match for Powell’s depravity.
Laughton’s provocative picture reminds us that it’s the kids who carry the capacity for greatness so we need to steer them away from mad bastards like Powell, to keep them innocent and pure. It’s no coincidence that (SPOILER!) with Powell vanquished, this tale ends on Christmas day with a happy family holiday in the childrens’ new, loving home. Out of the darkness we’re left with a beautiful symbolic moment that preaches that, despite the omnipresence of darkness, the light will always find a way back in. Now, isn’t that Christmassy?
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