This is part of a series of articles reviewing the American Film Institute's Top 100 Films, as unveiled in 2007. Why am I doing this? Because the damned cinemas are closed and I have to review something.
(M) ★★★★★
Director: Robert Mulligan.
Cast: Gregory Peck, Mary Badham, Phillip Alford, John Megna, Frank Overton, Rosemary Murphy, Brock Peters, Estelle Evans, Paul Fix, Collin Wilcox, James Anderson, Robert Duvall, Kim Stanley.
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| Damn. It was Judge Judy again. |
In the American Film Institute's 2003 list of the greatest cinematic heroes of all time, Atticus Finch topped the list. Ahead of Indiana Jones, in front of James Bond, and ousting Ellen Ripley was a down-South lawyer/single dad who fights for justice in the face of a system rigged against his client.
What's even more amazing about Finch reaching #1 is that - SPOILER ALERT - he fails in his task. It's tempting to paint him as the ultimate Great White Saviour, but in terms of the plot and his goal, he's a Great White Failure. He's a lawyer who not only doesn't win, but whose client gets killed on the way back to prison. Finch stands up against the systemic racism of America and fails.
But that obviously misses the point of why Atticus Finch is a great hero - indeed, the fact he doesn't win makes him an even greater hero. Outside of the plot's win-loss machinations, he is a great man. He's a single dad (though he hires a black maid) with a unique parenting style for the time - he preaches tolerance and understanding, doesn't talk down to his kids, and is highly cognisant of the fact they're smart and very aware of the world around them. Finch's ability to turn the other cheek is next level. His humility is off the chart and without trying to, he puts all of us to shame. He's a hero in a way we don't often think about - he's resilient, caring, empathetic, hard-working, loving, dignified, moral, and desperate to help make a better world.
This saint-like virtuousness is lifted straight off Harper Lee's pages by Horton Foote's true-to-the-spirit screenplay, but its Gregory Peck's flawless performance that has lodged Atticus Finch in the collective psyche as a paragon of principle. He is a beautiful balance of firm and gentle, of outraged and zen, of defiant and humble. Peck's Oscar-winning turn was reportedly Peck just being himself, and in an esteemed career, it's the high watermark. From his towering courtroom closing to his firm-but-fair parenting, Peck is magnetic.
Atticus Finch dominates To Kill A Mockingbird the same way a father is so prominent in a child's world. That's part of the movie's magic. Told almost exclusively from the perspective of Scout Finch (Badham) and her brother Jem (Alford), To Kill A Mockingbird sets up this viewpoint beautifully during its opening credits via humming, marbles, crayons, and scribbling. Through its highly literate voice over, it's confirmed we're seeing a pivotal snapshot in a young girl's life.
Director Robert Mulligan occasionally veers from this child's-eye view of proceedings, and it's the only weakness of the film; that it doesn't fully commit to Scout and Jem's POV. We get conversations that continue once the kids are out of earshot, providing important information, but slightly breaking the spell of childish naivety.
The kids' perspective wouldn't have worked without two great child performances, and Badham and Alford's turns are all-time. There have been great examples of juvenile acting dating back to Jackie Coogan's heartbreaking turn in The Kid in 1921, but Badham and Alford's work here is in the same ballpark of greatness.
But the other amazing performance, and perhaps the best in the entire film, is Brock Peters' oft-overlooked turn as Tom Robinson. He only appears on screen for about half an hour, but he is absolutely electrifying. Peters throws everything into Robinson's time in the witness box, and the film is infinitely better for it. A lesser performance could have killed the movie stone cold dead right there, but Peters captures the fire that burns within this wronged man - he is doing all that he can to remain dignified in the face of certain death. Robinson speaking his truth, despite knowing the cost, is the most powerful and gut-wrenching performance of the film.
Mulligan's work is somewhat under-rated - certainly no other film in his catalogue is revered like To Kill A Mockingbird - but the way he captures the small town vibe and flips it in a heartbeat to haunted Southern Gothic is impressive. The story is two-in-one (a racially fired courtroom drama and a kid's own mystery) and Mulligan balances the differing tones beautifully. He's also happy to let ride the finale's weird sense of ill-fitting justice - "Let the dead bury the dead," as the town sheriff puts it - helping fuel hundreds of high-school essays in the process.
Any perceived faults of To Kill A Mockingbird's portrayal of race seem to miss that this is a young girl's story about her father (Harper Lee's own father was a Finch-like white lawyer who represented black clients). We are seeing the horrible systemic racism from the point of view of a couple of kids who don't fully grasp what is happening - they just see their father striving to be a good and kind man to all. He is a beacon in their world - a beacon of decency and humanity. Mulligan's film is "a message movie done right", but its message is less about the black experience, and more about a little girl's view of that world.
Even in the aftermath of his defeat, when Finch comes face-to-face with the villain of the piece - racist spit-in-your-eye drunk Bob Ewell (Anderson) - Finch maintains his dignity. He never stoops to Ewell's level. This is Finch's real victory - a moral one. Win or lose, he can hold his head high in the eyes of his children. And those eyes, through which we view much of this powerful saga, offer a viewpoint as important as anyone else's. There will always be innocence, and it's up to the Atticus Finches of the world to ensure it grows and learns, but is never corrupted. And that is the task of a true hero.
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