It\u2019s impossible to watch Robert Mulligan\u2019s 1962 adaptation of Harper Lee\u2019s great novel, To Kill a Mockingbird, and not be moved by Gregory Peck\u2019s performance as Atticus Finch, a small-town American lawyer with an unfailing moral compass. Light years from the archetypal legal eagle, he radiates good old-fashioned decency, espousing tolerance and compassion that sadly feels almost passe amid the Sturm und Drang of the current world.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view,\u201d goes one of Finch\u2019s great lines, sourced from Lee\u2019s book. In perhaps the film\u2019s most memorable scene, Peck deliverers a grand courtroom monologue, declaring that \u201call men are created equal\u201d, imploring the jury to \u201cin the name of God, believe Tom Robinson,\u201d the black man accused raping a white woman \u2013 a crime he didn\u2019t commit.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
When I think about this film, my mind recalls that monologue in vivid colour \u2013 even though it\u2019s shot in monochrome. I\u2019ve watched To Kill a Mockingbird several times but still have to gird my loins for the moment Finch (spoilers to follow) breaks the news to Robinson\u2019s family that he was killed while attempting to escape.<\/p>\n
Finch\u2019s wisdom gives the film (and book) its title. Earlier, around the breakfast table, he recalls that when his father gave him his first gun, he told him he could \u201cshoot all the bluejays you want \u2026 but remember, it\u2019s a sin to kill a mockingbird\u201d because these creatures \u201cdon\u2019t do one thing except make music for us to enjoy\u201d. Ergo, the metaphor about destroying the innocent and harmless.<\/p>\n
\u2018The focus on the kids makes it unusual\u2019 \u2026 Mary Badham as Scout with her father, Atticus. Photograph: Universal\/Kobal\/Rex\/Shutterstock<\/p>\n
Peck won a best actor Oscar, but the protagonist is actually Finch\u2019s young daughter Scout (Mary Badham), whose adult self recounts the story. Her narration is everything to the book, though it\u2019s sparingly used in the film and does little beyond lacing some moments with Harper\u2019s lovely prose. Scout famously describes Maycomb \u2013 where the story takes place in 1932 \u2013 as a \u201ctired old town\u201d where \u201cthe rhythms of life are slow\u201d, men\u2019s collars \u201cwilted by nine in the morning\u201d and \u201cladies bathed before noon\u201d.<\/p>\n
In the book, Scout\u2019s reflections have a thoughtfulness and maturity beyond the ken of her childhood self. The film\u2019s relationship with time is different. Instead of an older person looking back, it\u2019s mostly a present tense narrative evoking a child\u2019s perspective \u2013 Scout\u2019s, but also that of her older brother Jem (Phillip Alford) and their friend Dill (John Megna). In both versions, this focus on the children makes it unusual. How many legal dramas spend so little time in the courtroom and so much time following children who aren\u2019t directly related to the case?<\/p>\n
Boo Radley (Robert Duvall) provides the film\u2019s stunning conclusion: both humane and melancholic, a \u2018rich tapestry of emotions\u2019. Photograph: Ui\/Sportsphoto\/Allstar<\/p>\n
Before we learn about Robinson\u2019s plight, we\u2019re introduced to the mystery surrounding a reclusive local character named Boo Radley (Robert Duvall, in his first film performance). The children repeat terrible rumours about him very early in the film, which we eventually learn are entirely unfounded.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s only at the very end that we discover the clever bookend device deployed by Lee, and retained in the film. Radley saves Scout and Jem from a potentially lethal attack by a man seeking revenge on Finch, and kills the offender in the process. The sheriff decides to spare Radley from the inevitable fallout, officially reporting that the other man fell on his knife. Atticus is surprised that Scout agrees with this decision; as she puts it, \u201cit would be sort of like shooting a mockingbird, wouldn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n
We assumed, all this time, that the metaphor applied to the innocent, downtrodden Robinson. But here we see it broaden out, extending to others who are mistreated and powerless. The ending is optimistic in some senses, emphasising compassion and humanity. But it\u2019s also deeply melancholic \u2013 a rich tapestry of emotions. This terrific film has lost none of its power.<\/p>\n