This is an almost unbearably tragic story, in my opinion one of the very darkest in the entire hour-long series.
'Driver' Arthur (Robert Loggia) has just returned from military service, bringing home with him his young Asian wife, Mickey (Pilar Seurat) and some severe psychological problems.
To pay off the debt on the family farm, he takes a job in the local sawmill. Stopping off one evening at the local tavern for a drink after work, Driver runs into an old flame, Betty Rose (Carmen Phillips), who clearly wants to turn the heat up again. He tells her he's married now, that it's all over between them, but Betty Rose isn't about to let him go. She follows Driver as he walks home through the woods, confronts him and swears she'll destroy his marriage. Big mistake: In a sudden explosion of insane rage Driver kills her, just a few hundred yards from the lonely farmhouse where Mickey waits for him, worried because he's usually not this late coming home from work.
And because he tries to hide what he's done, Driver ends up destroying everything he holds most dear.
What makes this episode truly poignant are Loggia's and Seurat's performances. Even though he's just committed a brutal murder, Driver's love for Mickey and desire to protect her are evident. But his good intentions are no match for his rising panic, as the lies he tells her quickly fall apart. Ms. Seurat invests her character with marvelous dignity and a sweet vulnerability; she's a stranger in a strange land, a woman very much in love with her husband, whose only friends are the little dog who's her constant companion, the storekeeper Mrs. McCleod (Kathleen Freeman) and Mrs. McCleod's mute, half-wild daughter, Ruby (Sondra Blake).
And of course, the original Bernard Herrmann score elevates this story to a whole new level. I know I'm getting kind of monotonous about this in these reviews, but there is simply no composer remotely comparable to him working in this medium nowadays. For my taste, the music he wrote for these episodes of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour embody some of his best work, and this is no exception, evoking shades of mood and moments of emotional intensity which perfectly complement both the horror and the terrible pathos of this prime slice of Appalachian Gothic.
'Driver' Arthur (Robert Loggia) has just returned from military service, bringing home with him his young Asian wife, Mickey (Pilar Seurat) and some severe psychological problems.
To pay off the debt on the family farm, he takes a job in the local sawmill. Stopping off one evening at the local tavern for a drink after work, Driver runs into an old flame, Betty Rose (Carmen Phillips), who clearly wants to turn the heat up again. He tells her he's married now, that it's all over between them, but Betty Rose isn't about to let him go. She follows Driver as he walks home through the woods, confronts him and swears she'll destroy his marriage. Big mistake: In a sudden explosion of insane rage Driver kills her, just a few hundred yards from the lonely farmhouse where Mickey waits for him, worried because he's usually not this late coming home from work.
And because he tries to hide what he's done, Driver ends up destroying everything he holds most dear.
What makes this episode truly poignant are Loggia's and Seurat's performances. Even though he's just committed a brutal murder, Driver's love for Mickey and desire to protect her are evident. But his good intentions are no match for his rising panic, as the lies he tells her quickly fall apart. Ms. Seurat invests her character with marvelous dignity and a sweet vulnerability; she's a stranger in a strange land, a woman very much in love with her husband, whose only friends are the little dog who's her constant companion, the storekeeper Mrs. McCleod (Kathleen Freeman) and Mrs. McCleod's mute, half-wild daughter, Ruby (Sondra Blake).
And of course, the original Bernard Herrmann score elevates this story to a whole new level. I know I'm getting kind of monotonous about this in these reviews, but there is simply no composer remotely comparable to him working in this medium nowadays. For my taste, the music he wrote for these episodes of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour embody some of his best work, and this is no exception, evoking shades of mood and moments of emotional intensity which perfectly complement both the horror and the terrible pathos of this prime slice of Appalachian Gothic.