Only rarely does a film come along with such brilliant directing as Hearts in Atlantis. The actors are merely puppets on the stage; most of what we see itself comes from the mind of the director who guides and encourages them. Hearts in Atlantis is, as a result, a beautiful piece of filmmaking; chilling and horrifying, yet simplistic and charming. Only vague remnants of Stephen King's collection of short stories remain, although the elements are all present, which alone makes this film unsuitable for sensitive or younger viewers.

The old house is broken down, the paint peeling, the stairs rickety. And yet as Bobby Garfield passes into the corridor, he talks a walk through time into his childhood, that last summer before he changed forever. Eleven years old, adventurous, and bright-eyed, Bobby and his two best friends, Carol and Harry, are inseparable. The world to them is a wonderful, exciting place filled with carnival rides and secret loves. But reality is beginning to settle in; instead of the bike Bobby hoped and prayed for on his birthday, he receives an "adult" library card. His mother Liz attributes it to the debts that his card-playing father left them to deal with upon his death, but we quickly learn the truth. There's always enough food, and Liz often comes home with new dresses on a regular basis. Therefore, Bobby decides to earn the bike himself... and that's when he's forced into a swift maturity as life's changes unfold. Forced to rent out the upstairs for financial reasons, their new boarder is a strange older man named Ted Brautigan. Eccentric, quiet, and yet somehow likable, Ted quickly wins the heart of Bobby, who yearns for a father-figure in his life, and his friends. But Liz is more suspicious. 

Why does he carry his things in a grocery sack? Where did he come from? Why pay a boy a dollar a week simply to read the newspaper to him every day? Bobby, too, knows that there is something odd about their tenant. He often lapses into strange conversations and sometimes becomes almost comatose... as if he's temporarily in some other world. He knows things about people, their fears, their insecurities, their moments of joy and laughter. All of the children like him. He even saves their lives by quietly speaking to a local bully prepared to beat them with a baseball bat. But, he cautions Bobby, there is one more thing which he needs the boy to do... keep an eye out for the "Low Men." Strange, sinister figures in extravagant automobiles and wearing expensive suits. Watch out for wanted posters... lost pets, missing relations, offers for a big reward... all in code. Bobby is to report any and everything he sees. But as the child grows more fond of his surrogate grandfather, the danger grows nearer.

Ted will be forced to choose between fleeing some unknown foe... or staying behind to help a lost boy find the truth in a cold, cruel world. But is this danger so pressing, or is it merely a figment of imagination? Dealing with deep, often uncomfortable subjects, Hearts in Atlantis, while it lasts, is an enthralling film full of beautiful cinematography and meaningful dialogue. In fact, if it weren't for a serious infraction I'll tackle below, I would recommend it for the mere psychology and reality of the piece. One of its flaws is that it seems to have no driving force... we've taken the journey and reached the end, yet know not what the story was attempting to say. It travels deep ravines and side streets, but has no moral or lingering thought to ponder aside from the harsh reality of life itself. If God were involved in the lives of the characters involved, it would have had quite a different conclusion. But since He isn't, it's a brooding story that unfolds in a chilling series of events.

There's only a limited amount of language, but a disturbing sequence that involves two abusive scenes collaborated into one. In one instance, half of it is a flashback to when Bobby's mother is attacked and raped in her hotel room by her overbearing and suspicious boss. We see them in a stomach-wrenching violent struggle before the scene at last pans away. At the same time in the present we witness the implication of violence toward a main character by the local bully. On this account we see nothing except her book drop into the stream below, but the significance of suggestion and the result is horrifying. Apparently audiences cannot bear to watch an eleven-year-old girl hit brutally with a baseball bat; yet they are desensitized enough to witness a woman being assaulted in her hotel room. Although the story is a good one in its intentions and surprisingly light where all other content is involved, why did we have to go that far?

The light implication of the sexual crime earlier was enough; watching it unfold in more graphic detail is in bad taste. Viewers should also be aware that Liz, as a result, is increasingly suspicious of Ted and his fondness for children. She even accuses him of fooling around with Carol, despite the fact that he had merely put back her dislocated shoulder. The local bully likes to call Bobby a "fairy" and "queer" to hide his own fears that he may be gay. One more wary note that many will be uneasy about is the fact that Ted's powers are portrayed to be psychic; he is able to read people and foresee certain events -- thus the flashbacks. These powers are passed momentarily on to Bobby when he interrupts one of the man's spells of melancholy. By seeing the world through Ted's eyes, one can realize how overburdened he must be by the sheer evil he sees around him. He knows and yet he is powerless to stop it. Mankind was not meant to be burdened by the cares of the world; it is too grievous and heavy a pack to carry. Only God, in His infinite presence and love, can survive a knowledge of all.