The Stalking Moon

Gregory Peck reteams with To Kill a Mockingbird director Robert Mulligan and producer Alan J. Pakula on The Stalking Moon (1968). A unique Western, it falls outside the late '60s revisionist trend, presenting instead a suspenseful cat-and-mouse game.

Aged scout Sam Varner (Gregory Peck) fulfills his last duty to the US Army by rounding up escaped Apaches. Among them is Sarah (Eva Marie Saint), a white captive who's lived among the Apaches for years, raising a half-breed son (Noland Clay). Sam reluctantly agrees to escort them to safety, only to find Apache warrior Salvaje (Nathaniel Narcisco) pursuing, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. Sam joins Indian tracker Nick (Robert Forster) and stationmaster Ned (Russell Thorson) to defend Sarah and her son from Salvaje's wrath.

The Stalking Moon is marvelously pared-down. Superficially resembling the previous year's Hombre, it jettisons that movie's oversized cast and racial posturing. Alvin Sargent's straightforward script proves sparse on dialogue and elliptical in motivation. Characterization rests on small moments, like Sam and Sarah's awkward supper or Nick teaching the boy poker. Stalking Moon knows where it's going and doesn't dawdle unnecessarily.

Mulligan handles the plot efficiently, more taut thriller than traditional Western. Charles Lang's beautiful photography only enhances the story's dread: Salvaje appears as an elemental, remorseless Fate, his motivation chillingly indistinct. The ultimate siege proves familiar, with characters whittled down through stupid mistakes. (Would you feed your dog with a murderous Apache outside?) But the climax pays off when Sam and Salvaje go mano a mano in decidedly brutal fashion.

Gregory Peck plays Sam like a more grizzled Hondo Lane, tough, weather-beaten but good-hearted. Eva Marie Saint (North by Northwest) adroitly handles a role requiring little dialogue or overt emotion. Robert Forster (Jackie Brown) makes a likeable sidekick, charm overcoming a poor makeup job. The supporting cast gets less chance to shine, with James Olsen, Frank Silvera, Lonnie Chapman and Russell Thorson reduced to bit parts.

The Stalking Moon is an underrated Western. Made when most Westerns went for graphic violence or liberal preaching, Robert Mulligan's economical storytelling stands out.

To Kill a Mockingbird

Robert Mulligan's solid adaptation of Harper Lee's novel holds up better than most of its contemporaries. To Kill a Mockingbird (1962) isn't exactly subtle, but it's a fine drama with Gregory Peck's best performance.

In 1930's Alabama, precocious tomboy Scout (Mary Badham), her brother Jem (Phillip Alford) and friend Dill (John Megna) live a care-free existence with their lawyer father Atticus (Gregory Peck): their biggest concern is whether town hermit "Boo" Radley (Robert Duvall) is as dangerous as reputation has it. The town explodes into an uproar when black man Tom Robinson (Brock Peters) is accused of raping a white girl (Oliver Wilcox) by the girl's father. Atticus agrees to defend Tom, which leads to a backlash, and Scout and Jem find their lives turned upside down by the case.

Lee's beautiful book shows a loss of childhood innocence in a climate of segregation. Scout and their friends don't really understand the verities of Jim Crow, even after Atticus explains to them why it's wrong to call someone a "nigger." Mulligan provides a somewhat outsized drama, with an idealized Atticus and demonic rednecks, spooky neighbors and creepy shadows, that perfectly reflects Scout's half-formed worldview. Perhaps inevitably, however, Atticus ends up dominating the narrative, and the film becomes more overtly about race than Lee's novel.

Released in 1962, just before "the Sixties" really kicked into gear, To Kill a Mockingbird is very much in tune with Inherit the Wind and 12 Angry Men in its eloquent pleading for social justice and belief that people are basically good. It's anything but subtle, which is fair enough; more troubling is that the blacks that are such marginal characters. Tom Robinson is idealized beyond belief, only speaking in his own defense at the trial; his wife (Kim Hamilton) is given neither dialogue nor a screen credit. Like too many "message films," Mockingbird is not about an oppressed people achieving justice so much as it is about a brave white man standing up for them.

That said, on a dramatic level To Kill a Mockingbird is solid, and far more entertaining than Stanley Kramer's rigged card games. Mulligan's direction is superb, with a wonderful sense of nostalgia and mood, and he handles his actors perfectly. He perfectly captures a child's-eye view of the world without resorting to obnoxious overstatement and cartoonishness. The ending is too dramatically convenient, but at least Lee and Mulligan don't try and solve the world's problems through Boo's actions. Racism is a more complex issue than here presented, but the film doesn't pretend Atticus and Boo have completely resolved it.

Gregory Peck is perfectly cast. His stiff and mannered acting style is perfectly suited for Atticus Finch, and he delivers his big moments - especially his eloquent courtroom plea - with the right histrionic power and force. I still prefer Peter O'Toole in Lawrence of Arabia for 1962's Oscar, but Peck is certainly worthy of his plaudits. However idealized, Atticus is a character, not a position paper, and Peck makes a compelling and endearing one.

Child actors Mary Badham, John Megna and Phillip Alford are all superb. Brock Peters (Major Dundee) gives a solid performance with his underdeveloped character and Paul Fix (Red River) has a nice supporting role, but supporting rednecks James Anderson (The Chase) and Collin Wilcox are overbaked caricatures. Robert Duvall doesn't make much of an impression in his early-career bit.

To Kill a Mockingbird is a good big screen adaptation of a great book. It's not as good a film as the book is a novel, but it's still an emotional, enjoyable work of art.