Maycomb was a tired old town, even in 1932 when I first knew it. Somehow, it was hotter then. Men’s stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning; ladies bathed before noon, after their three o’clock naps, and by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frosting from sweating and sweet talcum.
The day was twenty-four hours long, but it seemed longer. There was no hurry, for there was nowhere to go and nothing to buy… and no money to buy it with. Although Maycomb County had recently been told that it had nothing to fear but fear itself… That summer, I was six years old.

A l’époque du tournage, la ségrégation était toujours de mise. Il fallait donc un certain courage pour montrer aussi crûment le racisme quotidien de l’Alabama de la Dépression. Il fallait aussi du talent pour ne pas sombrer dans le pathos. Voilà une belle leçon de justice, de morale, de conscience politique, appelez ça comme vous voudrez. Les gros sabots pédagogiques restent dans le placard et même si on ressent quelques longueurs, c’est admirable de bout en bout.