The Innocents (1961): Spectres of Complexity

From a solid black screen, the sound of a child, eerily singing an echoing lullaby is the first indication that the film that follows is one of a creepy and spine chilling nature. The screen remains blank for a full 44 seconds before the 20th Century-Fox studio logo slowly presents itself, the sing-song voice continuing in the background. Thus begins The Innocents (1961), a ghost story of high artistic quality. A work of psychological horror as opposed to physical. There is no gore, nor are there monsters. The principals involved are actually quite attractive; beautiful, charming children, the lovely albeit prim governess, even the ghost seen in close up is ruggedly handsome. All of which allows the imagination of the viewer to expand even further than if physical ugliness were laid before them.

When I first saw The Innocents, many years ago, I wasn't quite sure how I felt about it. I certainly didn't dislike it and I appreciated its paranormal themes, but its vagueness about some of these themes was something I wasn't used to as a teenager. However, upon later viewings with a more mature and discriminating eye, these ambiguities showed themselves as examples of masterful creativity on the part of producer/ director Jack Clayton. Clayton had been nominated for an Oscar two years prior for Room at the Top and was establishing himself as a quality director.

Based on Henry James novella, The Turn of the Screw, the film opens to an interview between a wealthy Victorian Englishman and Miss Giddens (Deborah Kerr), candidate for governess to his very young niece and nephew, who live away from him in his country estate. A self proclaimed "very selfish fellow," The Uncle, as he is billed, asks that the inexperienced caregiver take complete charge of the youngsters, as he wants no part in their upbringing. The former nanny, Miss Jessel, died and Miss Giddens would replace her as sole guardian. Upon her acceptance of the job, the attractive spinster is taken to the beautiful but solitary estate where she meets the housekeeper, Mrs. Grose (Megs Jenkins) and Flora (Pamela Franklin), the female half of her enchanting charge. Miles (Martin Stephens), Flora's brother is away at boarding school. Almost immediately, the governess receives word from the boy's school that he is expelled for corrupting the minds of the other lads. Mrs. Grose finds this impossible to believe, as she knows him as a spirited but innocent and loving boy. Upon his arrival home, the new governess finds Miles to be just as Mrs. Grose described; charming, outgoing and affectionate. They form a cheerful, caring bond, with Miss Giddens doting on the youthful pair.

The blissful existence discovered by the nanny is interrupted when strange occurrences take place in and around the manor house. The children become sly and secretive and Giddens starts to see a man around the place that she recognizes from a photo to be the former valet, Peter Quint. But as Mrs. Grose tells her, "It can't be, you see he's dead. Quint is dead." More eerie shenanigans and the vision of Miss Jessel looking very much alive lead to more questioning of Mrs. Grose, who reveals that the former governess and valet Quint were lovers. "Rooms, used by daylight as though they were dark woods." Miss Giddens becomes convinced that the two spirits are possessing the bodies of the children for their own evil purposes, but how can she eradicate them and save her precious wards?

The creepy nuances of The Innocents is well paced, moderately at first then building the suspense to a crescendo of rapid pace encounters of a dark nature. The music box melody from the films' introduction is sporadically scattered about for a most chilling effect. Another spooky scene is the eerie game of hide and seek between Miss Giddens, Flora and Miles. As the governess goes in search of the hidden tykes, she encounters in the decrepit, dusty attic, a toy clown jack in the box, the head of which is mysteriously bobbing about. The Gothic feel of the film is achieved with outstanding lighting and camera work. There are hints of Jane Eyre and even The Uninvited (1944), just as there are hints of this film in the 2001 Nicole Kidman yarn, The Others.

Deborah Kerr gives a memorable performance as Miss Giddens. The actress touches ever so slightly on her characters repressed sexuality and the scenes of the governess and young Miles in a mouth on mouth kiss are still considered racy even today. The Innocents was not the first nor the last time Kerr would play a governess. Five years earlier, she immortalized the role of Anna, governess to the royal children of Siam in The King and I and in 1964, she would again play caregiver to the young in Enid Bagnold's The Chalk Garden. The child actors, Martin Stephens and Pamela Franklin, were not allowed to see the entire script due to its adult nature. Their portrayals were eerily sublime and Franklin would go on to a fairly prosperous career. A role I found particularly favorable was that of young Flora's pet tortoise. His name is Rupert.

Black Narcissus: Technicolor Masterpiece

What would you say to a movie about a small group of nuns who start a convent in the Himalayas. "No thanks, I'll pass." Alright, well what would you say if the convent was in a former royal brothel, the nuns both sexually and emotionally repressed and they're constantly in the company of a handsome, half-naked, amoral Englishman. Perks things up a bit. Add to these elements, breathtaking scenery, shot in the most vivid Technicolor, a magnificent score, a lusty young native wench on the make for a flamboyant but good hearted Indian aristocrat and you've got Black Narcissus (1947).

Developed by British film craftsmen, the director/writer team of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, Black Narcissus is a masterpiece of both style and substance. Based on the 1939 novel by Rumer Godden, it tells the story of a small group of Anglican nuns who go to a remote Himalayan village to establish a school and hospital for the simple peasant citizenry. There journey is an unconventional one from the get-go, as they set up shop in what was once a "house of women" or a harem residence for the concubines of a former royal general. It is called the Palace of Mopu and it is both exotic and mystical, very Shangri-La-esque. Leading the pack is the Sister Superior, Clodagh (Deborah Kerr), a young but rigid and self important character who finds her new domain unmanageable and laden with temptations of all variety. In her charge are Sister Briony (Judith Furse), a stout and no-nonsense prioress; Sister Phillipa (Flora Robson), who is devout but troubled and anxious; Sister Honey (Jenny Laird), popular and tender hearted; and Sister Ruth (Kathleen Byron), the black sheep of the cloister.

Given the unwanted task of aiding the habit wearing menagerie, is Mr. Dean (David Farrar), the British agent for the area. Sister Clodagh (pronounced Clo' da) finds him roguishly attractive, though she dares not let even her eyes suggest it, as he struts around the abbey wearing walking shorts and no shirt. Sister Ruth on the other hand, looks as if she could tear into his man flesh like yesterday's roast beef. Dean becomes a necessary evil for the sisters. Necessary because he is their only link to the civilized world of their past, as well as the only one with knowledge of plumbing and general maintenance, which they desperately need in their disintegrating residence. Evil because his raw masculinity, in such isolation as they find themselves, leads to dangerously sinful thoughts in the minds of Clodagh and Ruth, while creating a rivalry between these two, the seeds of which had long been established. Their conflict only festers the longer they are around Dean.

Sharing a starring role with the actors is Jack Cardiff's sumptuous cinematography, a visual feast in Technicolor. Color plays an important part in differentiating Sister Clodagh's present and the scenes depicting her past life in Ireland. Her pale, unmade face, the only semblance of skin we see among her many layers of white robes and habit, is a sharp contrast to the rouged lips and long auburn hair of a young, fresh and pretty Clodagh we see in flashback. As well, the deep green emerald necklace presented to her by her grandmother, again in flashback, as a wedding gift she'll never receive, illustrates the luster and rich color of her former life while her current station affords no such glamour. These flashback scenes were actually banned in the United States, as too daring a comparison. Along with color, close-ups are also used to outstanding effect. In the scene where Sister Clodagh confronts Sister Ruth about her impure thoughts for Mr. Dean, the quick cut close-ups of both actresses read volumes in dialogue. Likewise, when Ruth snaps mentally and rebuffs her vows to go search out Dean and his red blooded manliness, in a mail order dress and make-up, Clodagh tries to stop her by staying with her in her room. Both the camerawork and acting in this scene are superb. Cardiff won an Academy Award for his cinematography, as did Alfred Junge for Best Art Direction.


Also on hand in a sub plot is Indian actor Sabu, in the role of the Young General, a royal descendant who comes to the nunnery to expand his education. He is a young peacock in his fine clothes and scented handkerchiefs (his cologne, Black Narcissus, is where the book/film get their title). One scene shows him bedecked with jewels, wearing a satin turban and floor length fur coat. He looks like Lana Turner on a night at the Mocambo Club! While at the convent he meets up with Kanshi ( young Jean Simmons), a native servant girl whose hormones are in overdrive. Simmons, who has a substantial role, doesn't speak a word of dialogue in the entire film. Though Kerr, Farrar, et al do a fine job in their parts, acting honors go completely to Kathleen Byron as Sister Ruth. Her descent into lust driven madness is a sight to behold and her final scenes atop the palace bell tower are some of the most chilling and powerful on film (she also bears a striking resemblance to Anne Heche). Powerful is a good word to associate with Black Narcissus. Powerful images, performances, music and themes combine to form a fascinating cinema experience.