The Yearling (1946)--3/5

Life is cruel. Haven’t you heard? “The Yearling” works hard to remind us. If you even make it past infancy, you get to contend with nineteen-toed bears, coiled rattlesnakes, and inbred neighbors. Or you could just stop breathing, like Jody’s (Claude Jarman, Jr.) only friend, Fodderwing.

These are just the horrors visited upon humans in the film. Nature in “The Yearling” is a less-mediated circle of death. Flag the Fawn’s mother is hanging around the wrong clearing when Pa (Gregory Peck) is bit by a rattlesnake. He shoots her down to rub her heart and liver on his wound. (Does this work? And: gross.)

The most surprising thing about “The Yearling” is how long it takes for the title deer, Flag, to appear. The first hour is crucial to what comes later because the Baxter family’s subsistence is underlined—again and again and again. One eaten crop leads to lost revenue leads to possible starvation. Flag, unable to live anywhere else, is nonetheless informed by instinct. Jumping over a ten-foot fence, he eats the Baxter’s corn twice. What has to happen is no surprise; “The Yearling” is number three on The A.V. Club’s list, “Nine Classic Instances of Animal Snuff for Kids.”

The first hour is also superior. Without the melodrama of the deer, the actions of daily farm life move at a leisurely, unforced pace. One day Pa and Jody go into town. On another, they help with the wash. These mundane activities are made appealing by the quality of the filmmaking and Gregory Peck’s reliable gravitas. The lack of a clear endpoint in this section is novel in a children’s film.

“The Yearling” comes with a certification from the American Humane Society during the end credits. As evidenced by the injury undoubtedly done to animals in the film, the standards were way different back in 1946. Pa and Jody take their dogs out a-huntin’* the bear that’s killed their livestock (more death!). For sure, we think, the filmmakers won’t actually set two excited dogs on a bear. It’ll all be done with fancy cuts and movie magic. No such luck. For five excruciating minutes, the dogs jump on and swipe at the bear. He, in turn, envelops the dogs and attempts to break them in two. I think the animals would have rather played the odds in real nature.


*The dialogue in “The Yearling” is spoken in a strangely compelling 1940’s approximation of common-folk patois of the 1800’s. Favorite line: “That’s a mighty skimpity prayer!”

"Aww. Now I must shoot you, I reckon."