The warmth and affection generated by Kim Stanley's brilliant, thoughtful narration in the Oscar-winning "To Kill a Mockingbird" couldn't capture better the essence of Harper Lee's semi-autobiographical novel. I could swear hers is the inner voice I heard when I first read this book as a young teen.
A woman recaptures a single childhood summer during the Great Depression, a period she recalls with great fondness despite the difficult times. As seen through the eyes of an impressionable tomboy (nicknamed "Scout"), the story, set in a drowsy, dusty Alabama community, initially centers comfortably around typical adolescent escapades, until the town is jarred by a grown-up incident in which an indigent black man is accused of raping a white woman. Scout's widower father is given the daunting, disputatious assignment of representing the already condemned man.
Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch is exemplary as the father we wished for as a child. A tower of quiet strength, he is a man of utmost integrity, a steady voice of logic and reason, a man of disciplined, yet tender reserve. A father you can count on to defend you against mad dogs or pervasive demons that disturb your sleep at night. Too perfect? Maybe. But in that perfection Atticus represents everything we aspire not only in ourselves, but for mankind as well. He is a reassuring factor that man, in spite of his flaws, is innately good and decent -- his saintliness accentuated by his offspring's loving reflection. Peck's utter sincerity in this role is never doubtful for a minute. And for once his sometimes stiff, sobering demeanor meshes beautifully with a character that has become his signature piece.
The superbly talented "young 'uns", Mary Badham and Philip Alford, play the children Scout and Jem. They may not have had longevity in their acting careers, but here they make an everlasting imprint with performances so natural, triggering sweet memories of our own lost innocence. Their simple joys and fears are exquisitely realized and instantly become our own. They and the late John Megna, as their rather frail, awkward summer-time friend, touch the heart with their simple discoveries, theories and revelations.
The trial aspects may seem overblown by today's standard but the dramatic tension and poignancy is not lost. Brock Peters gives a deeply felt performance as defendant Tom Robinson, a man rife with fear, yet able to muster shaky courage and dignity throughout his ordeal. On the other side of the coin, James Anderson gives despicable meaning to the term "poor white trash" as the bigoted, redneck father of a piteous rape victim, played with neurotic intensity by Collin Wilcox. Atticus's closing argument and the trial's denouement are only two of many highlights, with Peck's speech one of cinema's most memorable soliloquies.
Slow-minded recluse Arthur Radley, who is taunted by the nickname "Boo" (a compelling Robert Duvall), serves to represent the fear in all of us...fear of the unknown. He becomes a phantom-like symbol for those who have ever been unfairly judged or persecuted due to prejudice, gossip, opinion, and/or ignorance. His final scene with Scout remains etched in my mind.
Director Robert Mulligan evokes welcoming sentiment without the saccharine in this sensitive Horton Foote adaptation. "To Kill a Mockingbird" never fails to open my heart, mind and tear ducts.
A triumph of the human spirit. It is a treasure to be sure.
A woman recaptures a single childhood summer during the Great Depression, a period she recalls with great fondness despite the difficult times. As seen through the eyes of an impressionable tomboy (nicknamed "Scout"), the story, set in a drowsy, dusty Alabama community, initially centers comfortably around typical adolescent escapades, until the town is jarred by a grown-up incident in which an indigent black man is accused of raping a white woman. Scout's widower father is given the daunting, disputatious assignment of representing the already condemned man.
Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch is exemplary as the father we wished for as a child. A tower of quiet strength, he is a man of utmost integrity, a steady voice of logic and reason, a man of disciplined, yet tender reserve. A father you can count on to defend you against mad dogs or pervasive demons that disturb your sleep at night. Too perfect? Maybe. But in that perfection Atticus represents everything we aspire not only in ourselves, but for mankind as well. He is a reassuring factor that man, in spite of his flaws, is innately good and decent -- his saintliness accentuated by his offspring's loving reflection. Peck's utter sincerity in this role is never doubtful for a minute. And for once his sometimes stiff, sobering demeanor meshes beautifully with a character that has become his signature piece.
The superbly talented "young 'uns", Mary Badham and Philip Alford, play the children Scout and Jem. They may not have had longevity in their acting careers, but here they make an everlasting imprint with performances so natural, triggering sweet memories of our own lost innocence. Their simple joys and fears are exquisitely realized and instantly become our own. They and the late John Megna, as their rather frail, awkward summer-time friend, touch the heart with their simple discoveries, theories and revelations.
The trial aspects may seem overblown by today's standard but the dramatic tension and poignancy is not lost. Brock Peters gives a deeply felt performance as defendant Tom Robinson, a man rife with fear, yet able to muster shaky courage and dignity throughout his ordeal. On the other side of the coin, James Anderson gives despicable meaning to the term "poor white trash" as the bigoted, redneck father of a piteous rape victim, played with neurotic intensity by Collin Wilcox. Atticus's closing argument and the trial's denouement are only two of many highlights, with Peck's speech one of cinema's most memorable soliloquies.
Slow-minded recluse Arthur Radley, who is taunted by the nickname "Boo" (a compelling Robert Duvall), serves to represent the fear in all of us...fear of the unknown. He becomes a phantom-like symbol for those who have ever been unfairly judged or persecuted due to prejudice, gossip, opinion, and/or ignorance. His final scene with Scout remains etched in my mind.
Director Robert Mulligan evokes welcoming sentiment without the saccharine in this sensitive Horton Foote adaptation. "To Kill a Mockingbird" never fails to open my heart, mind and tear ducts.
A triumph of the human spirit. It is a treasure to be sure.