When it was released in 1955, “The Night of the Hunter,” which will play at Woodmere’s Smith Hall on Tuesday, Oct. 20, was rejected by critics and audiences alike. Actor Charles Laughton’s sole directorial effort, the film’s dreamy black and white expressionism and nightmarish exploration of small-town American values was out of step with the times.

That was the era of CinemaSope epics and television, and 1955 was the year that Disneyland opened. The country was looking toward the light of postwar prosperity, and away from the shadows. Seventy years later, those shadows make “The Night of the Hunter” a singular and mesmerizing viewing experience. Somewhere between fairy tale and Flannery O’Connor, and featuring a career-defining performance from Robert Mitchum, “The Night of the Hunter” is a distinctly American nightmare, and one of the greatest thrillers ever made.

This particular fairy tale begins with a treasure and a monster. Ben Harper (Peter Graves) has been sentenced to the gallows for killing two men in a bank robbery, and the only living souls who knows where the money is hidden are his children John (Billy Chapin) and Pearl (Sally Jane Bruce), who have sworn to keep the secret. Enter Harry Powell (Robert Mitchum), an itinerant preacher, serial murderer of widows and Ben’s prison cellmate. Powell charms the town, marries John and Pearl’s mother Willa (Shelley Winters) and becomes very insistent that the children tell him where the money is hidden. Soon, Willa has disappeared under mysterious circumstances, and the children make an escape down the Ohio river with Powell in hot pursuit. The pair are taken in by a stern but loving old woman (Lillian Gish) and her flock of stray children, but will her powerful faith (and loaded shotgun) be enough to take on the killer preacher hanging around her picket fence?

To match the story’s dark fairy tale atmosphere, director Charles Laughton and cinematographer Stanley Cortez shoot “The Night of the Hunter” like an all-too-vivid nightmare. Shadows tower across the screen, and the sets look purposely artificial and stand at odd proportions. Prior to filming, Laughton and Cortez studied silent film, taking inspiration in particular from the German Expressionist movement to make the film as visually impactful and as unsettling as possible. Take, for example, the reveal of Willa’s fate halfway through the film. Beams of light illuminate her body, buckled into a Model T resting at the bottom of the Ohio River, her flowing hair mingling with the seaweed that surrounds the car. Shot like a pre-Raphaelite portrait, it’s simultaneously beautiful and the film’s most haunting image. In a year when the top-grossing film in America was the bright jet-age travel documentary “Cinerama Holiday,” this must have been quite a shock. While the impressionistic visual style of “The Night of the Hunter” failed to resonate with general audiences in the 1950s, it’s left an indelible legacy, influencing dark dreamworlds of filmmakers like David Lynch and Guillermo del Toro.

As vital to the film’s stranger power as its cinematography are a pair of powerhouse performances from Mitchum and Gish. Mitchum, famed for his laconic presence and deep baritone voice, imbues Powell with equal measures charm and menace. In public, Mitchum plays Powell with folksy, down-home affability that effortlessly ingratiates him to town matriarch and Willa’s boss Icey Spoon, (Evelyn Varden).

Contrast this with the wild-eyed madness Mitchum exudes behind closed doors. Failing to catch John and Pearl as they make their escape down river, Mitchum emits an animalistic howl of frustration and anguish as he thrashes through the water after them, resembling more a monster out of the Universal Pictures stable than a mannered country preacher man.

Acting as a more than capable foil to Mitchum is Gish as the children’s savior, Rachel Cooper. With a prickly, cantankerous outward appearance that belies her gentle care for the vulnerable, Gish feels like an opposing elemental force to Mitchum. A star during the silent era, Gish is a natural fit in the surreal, silent film-inspired atmosphere. At the climax of the film, Gish and Mitchum are locked in a tense standoff, both singing the hymn “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms.” The camera pushes in on Gish’s expressive face, her eyes conveying both vulnerability and steely resolve as these two opposing forces test their faith as the final battle begins. It’s enough to induce chills.

When “The Night of the Hunter” hit theaters all those years ago, it must have felt like a film out of time. Its visual language and Brothers Grimm storytelling lend it the weight and gravitas of age, but its daring and inventiveness make it feel ahead of its time. With its mingling of terror and beauty and its exploration of dark Americana, it feels more vital than ever in a culture that embraces works like “True Detective” and the more gothic works of the Coen Brothers. The year 1955 was not kind to “The Night of the Hunter,” but once we were ready for it, there it was waiting for us, leaning on a picket fence, singing a hymn, flashing us a dark and terrible smile.

“The Night of the Hunter” screens at 7 p.m. on Tuesday, Oct 20, as part of the Tuesday Nights at the Movies series at Woodmere, 9201 Germantown Ave. in Chestnut Hill. Doors open at 6:30 p.m. and light refreshments will be provided prior to the screening. Tuesday Nights at the Movies screenings are free to the public, but donations are greatly appreciated.