The Innocents

Jack Clayton's The Innocents (1961), based on Henry James's classic novella "The Turn of the Screw", rivals Robert Wise's The Haunting (1963) as the premier supernatural horror film of the 1960s. Both films are exquisitely crafted and terrifying. While The Haunting's effects are considerably better, and the cinematography a shade more sophisticated, Truman Capote's screenplay for The Innocents is a good deal more complex and fully realized. And while the terror of The Haunting's Hill House takes hold immediately, The Innocents builds slowly and methodically to a frenzied and climactic crescendo.

Set in Victorian England, the film tells the story of Miss Giddens, who's just taken a position as governess to the niece and nephew of a wealthy London businessman/socialite. Much too busy to care for the orphaned children, their uncle has sent them away to a palatial country house in the south of England. Miss Giddens relieves a grateful and overtaxed housekeeper, Mrs. Grose. At first, all is well, as Miss Giddens finds the country house much to her liking, as well as Flora, the adorable little niece. But when Flora's brother Miles returns to the country from school, along with a mysterious letter of expulsion, the idyllic manor soon becomes eerie. Miss Giddens starts hearing the children whispering and laughing through the echoey corridors, along with stranger and more sinister voices. Apparitions appear upon the veranda, and in the tall reeds surrounding the manor's pond. Miss Giddens starts asking questions about the house's history. What happened to the last governess? And the master's valet before her? And what does it all have to do with the children? Fearing for the children's souls, Miss Giddens spirals through paranoia and into madness, hurtling toward the film's stunning climax in the starkly lit garden, surrounded by ominous statues and sculpture.

As I've mentioned, Capote's screenplay is masterful, drawing out the suspense with episodic encounters with the children. Each scene brings new information, tantalizing us with the hideous and disturbing truth about the valet and the previous governess. Like The Bad Seed (1956) before it and countless films after it, The Innocents exploits our collective repulsion at the corruption of innocence, the near-universal capacity to be creeped the hell out by creepy kids. And these child actors (Martin Stephens and Pamela Franklin) are really really good at being creepy, from Flora's blank stares and dead eyes to Miles's lascivious grins and voracious precocity.

The Innocents highlights the importance not just of a film's score, but also of sound effects and design. Miss Giddens's terror is carried to the audience on a wave of whispers, laughter, screams, screeches, and eerie intonations. And I cannot stress enough the expert use silence in this film. Silence is golden. And in this case, silence is haunting. Filmmakers, please, take heed. Hesitate, I say. Hesitate to fill that void in your picture with more sounds. Wait. Let the silence tell its own tale. Let it spin out into the distances, let it bring its own ominous atmosphere to the table. The use of silence in The Innocents says as much about the genius of Georges Auric as his skillful use of sound.

The Innocents is a must-see for any fan of film, the supernatural, or just anyone looking for a good scare.

Storyline & plot: 9/10
Cinematography & effects: 7/10
Music & mood: 10/10
Performances: 8/10

The Reverend says: 9/10