User Reviews

A deaf mute comes to a Southern town, touching the lives of those he meets.

Singer is something of a mystery man. We know little about him, where he comes from, who's in his past, or what his attachments are, (except for the simple-minded Spiros and the fact that he's an engraver). In that sense, he's more like an idea than a man, maybe one of those mythical western heroes of the past. But instead of a six-gun to right wrongs, he communicates goodness in odd mute fashion, something like a silent universal conscience. That is, of course, until the end when we're reminded that he was more than an idea, after all.

But the movie's real dramatic center is young Mick (Locke) trying to find herself amidst stifling surroundings. That scene of her sitting alone on the concert hall stairs, transfixed by the strains of Mozart is a sublime moment lifted by both the great music and Singer's mutely understanding gaze. In a sense, I think, he's been hearing those same sublime chords for some time, despite the physical deafness. Later, when the two communicate wordlessly with the recording, Mick enters a liberating world she will only come to appreciate graveside. And it's not surprising that a triggering event would come from her thoughtlessly brushing him and his music aside following a romantic interlude with her first boyfriend.

But Singer's impact is not limited to the personal. His wordless ability also crosses racial lines as portrayed in getting an embittered Dr. Copeland to get beyond his prejudices. Again Singer opens up a better world, this time for the doctor, by using a different language, i.e. signing, in order to communicate with one of the doctor's deaf and dumb patients. As a result, the proud black man bends toward the goodness that Singer communicates. And, by doing so, he establishes the means for reconciling with his estranged daughter and son-in-law. The scenes of their reconciliation are among the most touching of the film.

Frankly, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the rotund Spiros (McCann) gobbling down the goodies like there's no tomorrow. That he's also simple-minded, of course, lends these scenes their peculiar pathos. He's Singer's one conversational partner, and watching them rapid fire their signing puts the audience on the outside, for a change. Whether intentional or not, it's a shrewd move to make us experience something of what Singer routinely experiences in being closed out of normal conversations.

These are the three main vignettes making up the movie. In each case, the other person experiences a sense of isolation and loneliness that can only be bridged by opening up through communication; and, as the movie shows, there are many such languages for bridging the gap. And though Stacy Keach's down-and-out drifter is given less screen time, when he looks longingly through the windowpane at others enjoying themselves in the diner, his isolation speaks volumes.

Of course, the central irony occurs at the end, when Singer too finds himself alone now that the others no longer need him. He who has built so many bridges to others is thrust back to his own island. Bridges, we find out, are no good unless they go somewhere, and now, for the silent Singer, they don't.

The cast is uniformly excellent, especially the big-eyed Locke, whose skinny, almost-pretty teen-ager looks totally unlike the Sandra Dee's, Annette Funicello's, of the time. It's that, plus the fact she seems totally unselfconscious in a really difficult role. Arkin's also effective, as the mute Singer. Still, I hope they weren't paying him by the word. And even though he had no dialog to learn, he did have segments of sign language to master, no easy task, I'm sure. Add to them the leonine Percy Rodrigues, an impressively strong and dignified presence, and it's an apt cast both visually and artistically.

The movie is a superb adaptation from a Carson McCullers novel. I'd be surprised if its downbeat subject matter made any money. Still, the movie deals powerfully with a common experience in such a way that makes us contemplate what some folks call the human condition. And that's a noble achievement for any movie.

Alan Arkin is John Singer, a deaf mute who takes an interest in practically everything and everyone around him. He wants to be the legal guardian for the mentally disabled Chuck McMann, who is first seen breaking the window of a pastry shop so he can eat the displays. To be near McMann (who is committed for observation), Arkin rents a room from physically disabled Biff McGuire and his tired wife, Laurinda Barrett, and slowly becomes friends with their lonely teen-aged daughter (Sondra Locke). He also befriends drifter Stacy Keach, whom he first meets while Keach is causing a drunken disturbance in a greasy spoon. When black doctor Percy Rodriguez refuses to take care of the injured drunken Keach, Arkin begins to work on him. Rodriguez, who is angry both at white people, as well as blacks who don't try to rise above their station in life, at first resists Arkin's intrusion in his life. His daughter (the brilliant Cicely Tyson) has married a man he refers to as an "Uncle Tom". Later, she tells him basically that he acts more white than white people do after he refuses to help her husband out of a disastrous situation that results in catastrophe. It is only through compassionate Arkin that the two are able to come to an eventual understanding. At his boarding house, Arkin wins Locke's trust by using her love of classical music to win her trust. It is through his upbeat look at life that seems to bring the people around him (including the surprisingly wise and kind drifter Keach) any sense of hope.

It appears that Arkin's disability is a metaphor for the emotional disabilities that all these people are hiding from the world. Locke is initially hateful towards Arkin, but grows to trust him as her parents become more distant because of their own growing bitterness's. McGuire (in the type of role that Arkin might have later played) is quietly understated as the injured father whose inability to work has caused the family financial hardship. Barrett's fall from tired, hard working wife to slightly embittered mother who wants her daughter to drop out of school and work full time (while taking night classes), is also nicely subtle. Their characters reminded me a bit of the parents in "Breaking Away". Rodriguez is outstanding as the embittered black doctor who only treats Keach because of his pity towards deaf Arkin. The scene where he admits how ironic it is that at this point in his life, it is a white man to whom he can confide his deepest feelings, is so quietly powerful. Ms. Tyson, of course, is excellent; Already a stage veteran, she makes her character quite believable and the love for her husband most admirable.

Stacy Keach is only in the film briefly in the first half, but makes a nice impression as the multi-layered drifter who has become a social outcast that only Arkin understands. As for Chuck McCann, as Arkin's child-like friend, he seems to really become this character. It is apparent that Arkin would never be able to take care of him, revealed in a powerful scene where Arkin uses a box of Whitman's chocolates to lure the sweets loving McMann away from a cake to get him to a court hearing. Arkin's good intentions are more than admirable, but ultimately leads to a tragic conclusion that will rip your heart out.

Sondra Locke, best known in the 70's as Clint Eastwood's on and off screen partner in movies like "The Gauntlet" and "Every Which Way But Loose", has her best role as the teen-aged Mick. As I looked more closely at her, I was stunned by her resemblance to Allison Arngrim ("Little House on the Prairie's" Nellie Olsen) in both looks and facial expressions. She greatly deserved the Oscar Nomination she received, because she makes what could have been an annoying character really quite likable. She's not movie star beautiful, but there is something very unique in her that makes her quite special here.

Without a doubt, there is no other word to describe Alan Arkin's performance than amazing. He really studied this character inside and out to get every niche of him down. There is no moment of unbelievability in his portrayal. While he lost the Oscar to Cliff Robertson's equally brilliant performance in "Charly", it must have been a really close race. "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter" is a much better film that unlike "Charly" and many other films of the 60's doesn't add a strange "mod" feeling into it that makes no sense.

There are some terrific moral lessons to be learned from films like "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter". The biggest for me, based upon the tragic ending, is that in life, it is not only what people do in their lifetime that makes them special, but what they add to the lives of others around them (particularly strangers) that matters. We can give all the kindness in the world to our family, friends and partners, but if we ignore the opportunity to help someone we haven't brought into our lives, it takes away from our importance while here on this earth. The ending may have been tragic, but what lessons that other characters learned from Arkin's John Singer would change their lives eternally. Something tells me that Mick (Locke) would end up in social services helping disabled people, and that the black doctor (Rodriguez) would never again distrust all white people and be open to helping everybody who came to him.

Robert Ellis Miller is hardly a name to inspire enthusiasm so his 1968 version of Carson McCuller's novel "The Heart is a Lonely Hunter" might come as something of a surprise. Yes, it's maudlin more often than not but it does feature a magnificent performance by Alan Arkin as Singer, the deaf mute who forms a friendship with his landlady's young daughter, (a superb Sondra Locke in her first film). Of course, the territory is typical McCullers with all the characters carrying baggage of one kind or another and with Arkin coming across as a kind of Earth Angel rather than an ordinary human being and in typical McCullers' fashion he ends up helping everyone but himself. The ending's a downer, (what's the life lesson McCullers is teaching us here, you wonder), but it's still better than it could have been and it's probably Miller's best film.