Down Home

Rating: Null/10 (28 January 2009)

I recently re-read To Kill a Mockingbird and was as enchanted and charmed as ever by this wonderfully didactic fairy tale. It sounds funny to call it a fairy tale, but it's not a full out great novel, either. Maybe it is something that exists somewhere in between, delighting readers and challenging critics. ("Coming of age novel" minimizes it.)
Scout Finch is arguably the most charming female character in American fiction in the second half of the century, and the heart of the book is really her narration, and how she relates to everyone in her world, particularly her father. Through Scout's eyes we see the changing humanity of her older brother Jem. The author goes to great lengths to make Scout as adorable as possible and yes she is a little bit in love with her childhood self.
The book, set in the 30s, is flavored by the coming pressures of the times in which it was written, the 1950s and 60s. The living room conversations among the women about the differences between North and South in their treatment of blacks were very recognizable. But, the book's power, for me, does not lie in the Tom Robinson trial and his subsequent fate, true as it was. That part moved along predictably enough, and Atticus weathers the town's outrages nobly, holding the klieg light steady for all who so choose to see the way out of darkness. No one does.
Strangely, there was no portrayal of a married couple, to my reading. Most of the adult male characters' wives had died, and the women either lived alone or with a maid. Maybe it was meant to convey the dying South or maybe it reflects the author's own life or her assessment or faith (or lack of it) in the future of the South.
Still, To Kill a Mockingbird is a portrayal of a once noble family, and a very decent family, grounded in some pretty good values and going out to experience life eagerly and with honor, not shrinking from anything.
It's not a work of Great Fiction but there is something about it in line with great American works. What that something is, is hard to pin down. Maybe it is the richness in every sentence, the warmth and understanding. The recognizable history, the sweep of years and ages that one phrase embodies and evokes, and the nostalgia it stirs up. Maybe it is the everyday poetry of the language, instantly recognizable as classic American writing. Maybe it is the completely true characters, each one unique in a land where conformity was valued and enforced.
The film necessarily cuts out a significant portion of the book but for the most part the choices made for what was left in are good ones. Still, the omissions include the development of important characters (Miss Maudie, Mrs DuBose, and Calpurnia among others), while other characters are left out entirely (Aunt Alexandra). A lot of family back-story is also cut. The result is that the outlines are there (albeit with some pretty steep mountains in the background!) and that seems to have satisfied a good many people.
Phillip Alford as Jem was unquestionably the best casting choice of this movie, while Mary Badham's pampered background shows through. I picked up on a sullen, mocking reluctance in scenes requiring a demonstration of affection and lovingness. Alford, more down-home, does just fine, and is all boy, with a lovely voice. Dill is hardly anyone's notion of a beautiful child contest winner and is clearly not Southern. Peck certainly looks the part of Atticus Finch, and while Atticus clearly is a reserved man, I don't think he is a dead one. Too bad the one actor who most looked the part, the freckle-faced, tow-headed Walter Cunningham, did not also sound it.
Perhaps it is the experience of watching the movie so soon after having read the book. There simply is no comparison. Read the book! It is so much better.