To Kill a Mockingbird

**A striking, culturally relevant and indisputably important film.** It is not very rare to see that an actor's career, however prolific it may be, ends up being especially remembered thanks to his participation in a very small set of films, or even for his participation in a single film. I don't see this as a demerit, but as something unavoidable: only a very limited set of films ends up surviving the test of time and becoming culturally and historically relevant. Gregory Peck was an actor of great importance in his time, one of the faces of honesty and fairness, since he almost always played characters imbued with great honesty and nobility of intentions. As such, he took place in a wide range of films... but let's be honest, it is with this film that the actor reaches the peak of his career, and it is here that he achieves the greatest recognition and relevance as an actor. The film brings to the screen the slightly autobiographical novel by Harper Lee. Strongly inspired by the figure of her father, and by passages from her childhood, the author conceived a story in which an honest and committed lawyer struggles to defend a black prisoner, convinced of his innocence in the face of accusations of rape and aggression against a white minor. Of course, it all takes place in the American South, where racial prejudice runs rampant, as everyone knows. In the midst of all this, a sub-plot also develops, involving a reclusive, mentally weak neighbor, who creates a liking for the lawyer's daughter. I'll start by saying that I've never read the original book, so I'm not sure if the movie does justice to its content. However, when preparing this text, I concluded that the writer watched some footage at the invitation of the production and participated in the works with her collaboration, which leaves me with the conviction that the film sought to respect the literary work. Directed by Robert Mulligan, the film is a very convincing drama, but it takes a while to get into gear and to captivate our attention, which is initially invited to focus on children, on the way they behave and interact with the world around then. It will be, moreover, through the eyes of one of them, that we will observe the events. As I said, it is in this film that Gregory Peck reaches the highest point of his career, giving us an inspired, profound and emotional interpretation of the main character. He was one of the most relevant actors of his time and there are a number of other films where he shines and deserves a closer look from us, but this is where he immortalizes himself. Without coincidence, this is where the actor receives his Oscar for Best Actor, after being nominated four times. Despite being very young, Mary Badham's performance and a silent appearance by a young Robert Duvall are also worth noting. Technically, the film is quite discreet and gives the audience plenty of room to focus on the story told. There are no great visual gimmicks, there are no noteworthy effects, but we have excellent black-and-white cinematography with occasional artistic notes and a good filming work. The editing was also very well done, and gave the film a pleasant pace. It takes a while to really become interesting, but if we give the film the opportunity it requires, it will give us an enjoyable story, which we will gladly follow until the end. The soundtrack also deserves praise for its apparent ingenuity, as well as the opening credits and its graphics and visuals.

Gregory Peck is small-town lawyer "Atticus Finch" who is drafted in on a seemingly routine case defending a black man "Tom Robinson" (Brock Peters), accused of raping a young white girl. I say routine, because no-one in their town of "Maycomb" doubts the verdict the jury will return. What ensues is a testament to Peck's Oscar-winning acting abilities as he must get to the truth amongst a community where that is the least of anyone's concerns. Racism, bigotry and hatred are rife and soon, after he resists their repeated attempts to go with the flow, these odious emotions are pointed at him and his two young children "Jem" (Philip Alford) and "Scout" (Mary Badham). By way of a side-story, the kids are obsessed with a mysterious house in which lives the enigmatic "Boo Radley" (Robert Duvall), a lad with learning difficulties that is rarely, if ever, seen during daylight hours. The courtroom drama leads events to turn positively sinister; the scene with the two children returning home through the woods from their fancy dress party has to be amongst the most effectively tense pieces of cinema ever made. Clearly the story addresses the specific issues pertaining to the depression-era attitudes in America's southern states, but the potency of the original Harper Lee story; and the expertly crafted characterisations from all here ensure that scenario is transferable to many others around the world, and even now resonate succinctly. Rarely do the nuances of a novel like this transfer well to cinema, but Robert Mulligan and Horton Foote have done a sterling job at adapting this most human of stories that ought to be compulsory viewing - even now, 60 years after it was made.