Arkin is compelling as the quintessential "good listener". Seeing Sondra Locke emoting at such a young age (24 credibly passing for 16), I can see why Clint Eastwood fell for her a few years later (and cast her in several of his movies). These two carry the movie but the supporting cast also offer great character portrayals. The movie is slow in parts -- and there are, necessarily, many silences (Arkin plays a deaf mute) -- but I was drawn in by all the characters' personal stories. I'm writing this review 3 days after watching the film, and it's still stayed with me. I highly recommend it.

John Singer (Alan Arkin) is a deaf mute jeweler. His child-like friend Spiros Antonapoulos is also a deaf mute and gets into trouble. Spiros is put into a mental hospital and Singer moves to be closer to him. He rents a room from the Kelly family. Mick (Sondra Locke) is their self-obsessed teen. Blout (Stacy Keach) is a drunk. When Blout injures himself, Singer asks black Doctor Copeland to treat him despite any reservations in the segregated deep south.Singer is the magical being who brings salvation and happiness into these various lives in the pre-civil rights south. I'm not sure that Alan Arkin does anything particularly special to warrant an Oscar nomination. He does a good job being the great Alan Arkin without speaking. Sondra Locke is a little too old to play a teen but does a great job nevertheless in her debut. The race aspect is compelling and Percy Rodrigues is terrific. There are compelling scenes but the overall sense is a little meandering.

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.

This film is powerful, sensitive, meaningful and memorable once you watch it. I have it on tape, and usually if I get to pick a film, I pick one that makes me laugh, not one that tells me a story about real life. At my age, I don't need that. Carson Mc Cullers as a writer can find the depths of a character's soul, and the film captures most of her talent. If you are looking for a remarkable film, this is one of the best. But I would suggest that the best place to find something serious can be found in a novel, written by an artist and not a hack turning out pulp fiction. A film unfortunately is restricted to roughly two hours, and thus at best can only be a short story. A single short story, to my knowledge has never won a noble prize for literature. The cinema has an art advantage no other art form has, except for the restriction of time limited to the limits of the human body to sit for more than two hours. A book, you can always put down, and return at your leisure.