Laughton, and cinematographer Stanley Cortez channel the spirits of DW Griffith and German Expressionism in this unique, half dreamt world. This idealised depiction of the picket fenced tranquility of small town America, harbouring such violent corruption, was the obvious model for David Lynch.
Wonderfully acted, particularly Mitchum's sexually deviant preacher, and that most remarkable event, a brilliant child performance by Billy Chapin.
We now call this Southern Gothic. It took a decade for this film to find an audience, perhaps because of its originality. Laughton never directed again, but he has left us an imperishable classic, of rich, visual poetry.
This film never ceases to send shivers down my spine. Clunky, dated and a bit hammy at times, the silhouette of a picket fence and that haunting voice singing an old Southern hymn is more foreboding than any CGI horror with crashing orchestration.
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