El incorregible

Beautiful performances from Steve McQueen and especially Lee Remick highlight this rather sad rambling film of the type Hollywood doesn't make anymore. A small personal drama that explores the lives of regular people just struggling to make a place for themselves in the world. Nothing blows up, it's all about emotions here. Horton Foote's screenplay, based on his play, shows his customary understanding of how people react and interact with each other while Ernest Laszlo stark black and white cinematography evokes the dusty small town Texas setting in a way color never could. Something that you'd find either on the indie circuit or maybe on cable today certainly not in major markets as this was and hardly with stars of this magnitude.

This film comes close to being something truly great. It is beautifully photographed and acted (particularly the work of Lee Remick), and the theme, not confronted head on, of child abandonment/abuse, which plays under the images, is quite powerfully evoked. The film's shortcomings are mainly mechanical: some rough transitions in the story-telling; the unsatisfactory attempts by Steve McQueen at miming to a too-professional singing voice; and the omission from the scenario of one or two more direct references to the childhood from which McQueen's dysfunctional character has emerged. Certainly, the loving inactions between Remick's character and her screen daughter, Margaret Rose, are completely convincing and form a strong counterpoint to her husband's damaged personality. But we are not sure where we should be focusing: on their relationship, on the wife and husband relationship, or on his relationship with his adoptive mother (who appears only briefly, but is the unspoken menace). Of course, this difficulty is very much part of what the film is about; however, the various relationships sit so apart from each other, the tragic impact of the one on the others is somewhat lost. I suppose it is a testament to the delicacy and understated-ness of Robert Mulligan's directorial touch (seen to greater effect in 'To Kill a Mockingbird') that this sort of reaction is called up at all. One feels this film has so much that is good, the potential is there... A reflection of its time, perhaps: while it was being made, news broke of a shooting in Dallas and the death of a young president.

I have read the reviews on the title "Baby The Rain Must Fall" and I say anyone who doesn't love this movie is out of their mind, to me Steve McQueen never gave a bad performance, and yes that even includes "The Hunter" and the Campy "The Blob", This film is basically about a dreamer who can't seem to stay on the right side of the law and out of trouble,and Lee Remick, I can never tire of watching her, this is a **** star movie and a real gem

For those of you who didn't like the film, well all I have to say is go watch Howard The Duck instead, because I am sure that is your "Casablanca"

This is the kind of film which seems to struggle to find an audience outside of its immediate setting – in its case, the American Deep South. It's basically a familial drama where husband and wife are driven apart by the former's troubled persona – especially due to his own inclination to violence and the enigmatic relationship with his eminent but dying guardian. Director Mulligan had created an all-time classic with TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD (1962): this updates the atmosphere (including a failed attempt to replicate the Gothic touch associated with Robert Duvall's Boo Radley character in that film) but still throws in a little girl at the core of the story. Steven McQueen goes through the whole 'Rebel Without A Cause' act to little lasting effect – the performance is even more hurt by the fact that, playing a wannabe rockabilly singer, he's forced to mimic to a number of tunes (including the title number). Similarly, co-stars Lee Remick and Don Murray have typical roles, and John Wayne regular Paul Fix also has a nice bit as a benign Judge. The film notches up some tolerable intensity with scenes where McQueen is beaten up, feverishly tries to dig up the old lady (for whatever purpose) and finally escapes custody – if only for a short while; otherwise, the greatest points of interest here are Ernest Laszlo's moody cinematography and Elmer Bernstein's eclectic score.

Slowly paced, bleakly photographed, virtually plot-less, the 100-minutes is not everyone's cup of tea. There are compensations, however. That lonely clapboard house forlorn on the dreary prairie is a perfect metaphor for Henry (McQueen) and Georgette's relationship. He's all pent-up rage at his brutal upbringing, while she's clinging to hope and their little girl (Block). Together, their silences speak louder than words, the distance just too great. All this plays out in elliptical fashion that requires some patience, and I'm not surprised the movie was a flop, given what McQueen fans likely expected. There are moments of frantic action, as when Henry attacks his guardian's grave for the wrongs done him, especially now that she's left him nothing from her meagre assets. But the prevailing pace is contemplative, to say the least.

I'm not sure McQueen was the best choice for the tormented Henry. The actor, of course, excelled in action pictures, nuance not exactly being his forte. Yet Henry's real tragedy calls for a sensitive range that's largely missing from his scenes with Georgette. We get the distance, but not the struggle, and without the inner struggle the tragedy is diminished. Certainly, no one can be accused of overplaying, especially Don Murray whose sheriff comes across as something of a well-meaning cypher. Somehow the movie reminds me of an episode typical of the old TV series Route 66 (1960-64). The bleak location photography, the downbeat dramatics, the forlorn characters, all typify that ground-breaking series. I wonder if there was some cross-over given the time period.

Anyway, action fans should skip this McQueen feature. For others, patience with the slow- developing human interest should provide compensation.

( In passing-- thanks to the reviewer who confirmed my glimpse—Henry does plant the hopeful cherry tree with the roots still in a tin can bottom. Is that act of sabotage intentional or just his usual carelessness.)