Milestone heartfelt hymn to the un­derdog, based on the famous novella by John Steinbeck, tells the story of two hoboing farmhands – hulking, mental­ly-impaired Lennie (Lon Chaney Jr.) and his self-appointed guardian George (Burgess Meredith). The pair find work on a ranch but tragedy strikes when they encounter the flighty daughter-in-law of the owner. In one of the most biting retrospective portrayals of the Great De­pression, the unkempt, shabby drifters band together in search of Utopia, only to discover it is nothing more than a pipe dream.
Earth, itself one of the characters of the story, features prominently in Mile­stone’s unexpectedly lyrical compositions that are occasionally reminiscent of So­viet cinema. There are frame-within-frame shots, each broken into clustered entities, divided by elements such as bed bunks. Objects within the frame, par­ticularly threads, belts, and fences, criss­cross the composition, sometimes jutting out from the depth of field toward the camera as though Milestone is estab­lishing a physical connection between the viewer and the scene. (The original release prints were in sepia, meant to im­itate the burned-up, golden hue of the Californian at the end of July. This must have emphasised the tactile quality of the imagery.)
There are fine performances by ev­erybody, especially Group Theatre tal­ent Roman Bohnen who plays Candy, a crippled man 35 years older than his actual self. The sequence in which a fore­man absurdly and cruelly insists on, and succeeds in, killing Candy’s beloved dog is one of the most moving moments in 1930s American cinema. It mirrors the film’s famous (and controversial) mer­cy killing at the end, where those who dream of “living off the fat of the land” end up being swallowed by its swamps.

Ehsan Khoshbakht