The uneasy, uncompromising film adaptation that Flannery O’Connor’s great novel deserves. It’s faithful to the book’s crisis of faith and it doesn’t pretty up its lowdown grotesques.
John Huston directs exactly like an old master who’s always had an artist’s heart even in the old Hollywood studio system. He doesn’t club us over the head with style, but every shot has HEFT in the best way. It’s a story told in a rich, deep and crystal clear voice. The rural Georgia setting is so vivid, you’ll be slapping away mosquitos (it was shot on location in and around Macon). Huston is comfortable with unlikable characters and a hero who repels the audience.
The cast ALL occupy plum roles. Even actors with only one scene get mouthfuls of delicious seedy, Southern-speak dialogue. Meanwhile, Brad Dourif is positively insect-like in a rare lead part. He’s O’Connor’s Hazel Motes, a bonkers young war vet who rejects Jesus Christ, but doesn’t know what to do with himself without a church so he attempts to start his own, The Church Without Christ. He does his best to preach the word on ravaged small town streets, but ain’t nobody listening except for the other street preachers and a few small-time opportunists, hucksters all.
What does the pure-hearted man do in a world where faith is the biggest lie around? Huston’s not afraid to go with Flannery O’Connor’s queasy Catholic vision, where one always suffers on their way to salvation. Harry Dean Stanton, William Hickey, Ned Beatty and a beautifully off-the-wall Amy Wright round out the terrific cast.