Landmark films never lose the ozone-snap excitement of their special historic moment. The Trail of the Lonesome Pine was the first feature shot outdoors in three-strip Technicolor, and its exhilaration in forest and lake, mountain and cloud remains as fresh and privileged today as it must have been in 1936. Director Henry Hathaway, already a seasoned veteran, had a fine pictorial eye along with sturdy storytelling instincts; he knew just how to place his cast in dynamic settings without getting fussy about it (a talent still going strong 33 years later in True Grit). No one would mistake Trail for a great film, but it's abundantly enjoyable, and a model of golden-age craftsmanship. This was Hollywood's fifth version of John William Fox's novel about a long-running Appalachian feud and its interruption by modernity in the form of a mining engineer (Fred MacMurray). The very young MacMurray, Henry Fonda (the scrappingest of the Tolliver clan), and Sylvia Sidney (as the cousin he loves) form an appealing romantic triangle, while elders Beulah Bondi and Fred Stone (the Tollivers) and Robert Barrat (patriarch of the rival Falins) nurse generations' worth of sorrows. Nigel Bruce is droll as MacMurray's colleague, Spanky McFarland represents the Great Smokies chapter of the Little Rascals, and hillbilly Greek chorus Fuzzy Knight gets to sing two peerless ballads, "Twilight on the Trail" and "Melody from the Sky." And if that eldest Falin boy seems familiar, add 20 years and a war bonnet and you've got The Searchers' Chief Scar, Henry Brandon (here Henry Kleinbach). --Richard T. Jameson