by Kristian Cortez, Staff Writer
What I appreciate most about ghost stories is their simplicity. There is nothing extra to understand about the “monster” or “evil.” They are simply the spirits of people who were once living on this planet and are now having a hard time leaving it completely. A well told ghost story understands this and as such, focuses on the how, why and what of a haunting. How this person or persons came to die. Why they are still here and cannot leave. What they want from the living, if anything. Now granted, these are not exactly simple ideas. In fact, they are actually quite complex since we will never fully understand what it is like to be a ghost until we are one. I agree that there is nothing simple about trying to decipher what happens after we die. All I’m saying is that ghost stories, when compared to other sub-genres in horror, have the least components to them and through their simplicity, happen to be the most captivating.

Based on the novella, The Turn of the Screw by Henry James, The Innocents was directed by Jack Clayton from a screenplay by William Archibald and Truman Capote. It follows Miss Giddens as she takes the job of a governess to two orphaned children whose uncle wants nothing to do with them. At the manor, she begins to see ghosts, whom she believes are taking over the children’s bodies. It stars Deborah Kerr, Michael Redgrave, and Megs Jenkins.

The film begins in the dark. A black screen with only the song “O Willow Waly” playing eerily through the speakers. Slowly, a set of praying hands come into frame and we hear sobbing. It’s a terrific opening that sets the tone of the movie so well and is the first inkling of the stunning cinematography by Freddie Francis. Throughout the movie the camera barely moves, choosing instead to stay put and pan occasionally from left to right or vice versa. Most of the time the characters are all in one shot at the same time, resulting in very little editing, allowing us to live in the same moment as the characters without anything taking us out and reminding us that we’re watching a movie. It’s quiet, seamless, and effective.

Effective because in horror, what is outside of the frame is just as important as what is inside the frame. This film uses that to its advantage by never revealing to us what is frightening straight away. Instead we get to experience it through the eyes of Miss Giddens (played wonderfully by Deborah Kerr) first. What makes this movie is how well Kerr is able to evoke the worry and fear she is experiencing. With her expressive eyes and facial expressions, so much of what we feel comes from her cues because we don’t yet know what is before her that is so terrifying. Withholding the terror from the audience is a brilliant choice because it allows us a few moments to assume the worst. It inserts us into the narrative as we try to fill-in-the-blank ourselves before being told the answer. Our fear is therefore constructed by two elements: Kerr’s magnificent performance and the creative choice to withhold information from us for longer than a beat. It functions as a warm-up, making the reveal all the more impactful.

When Miss Giddens first sees the dead former governess Miss Jessel, she is on land and the spirit is in the middle of the lake, dressed in black. Miss Jessel doesn’t come toward her or scream out. She just stands there, staring. In this movie there is no loud, shocking music to scare you and the ghosts are not close by ready to attack. Here, they are at a distance, either unmoving or moving slowly. It is quiet, almost deafening, and all they can do is stare (or sometimes smile, laugh, or cry). What I appreciate about this depiction is how rooted in realism it is. If we are ever to encounter a ghost, there will be no grand score to play over the moment. Most likely, the entity will do nothing but stare before disappearing. We will be rooted in place, our eyes widening, and breath quickening—much like Miss Giddens. We will see them and they will see us and then the moment will be over. Then we will be left with only our opinion of whether what we saw before us was real or imaginary.

There is a line spoken at the very beginning of the film that is easy to miss if you’re not paying very close attention. It is spoken by the uncle to Miss Giddens during her interview when he asks her, “Do you have an imagination?” She responds with an enthusiastic “Yes” before the conversation turns to something else. It’s a blink-and-you-miss-it moment that happens to be the most important line in the movie because Miss Giddens’ sanity is something we will be questioning for the remainder of the film’s running time. After all, Miss Giddens is the only one to ever see these ghosts. Sure, the children behave bizarrely from time to time, but is it really possession? Could it not be that the children spent so much time with the departed that they picked up some of their characteristics and have yet to outgrow and forget them?

These logical explanations are never considered by Miss Giddens who instead, jumps the gun and immediately believes there is something much more sinister taking place. But if everything is a figment of Miss Giddens’ imagination, then how can we explain her seeing the ghost of Peter Quint—a man she has never met—before seeing his photograph in the attic later? If her mind was truly playing tricks on her, wouldn’t she need to see the photo first, then his apparition? In my opinion, both point of views check out. Ultimately, it depends on how the viewer chooses to interpret it.

There is a moment at the beginning of the film when little Flora (one of the orphaned children) tells Miss Giddens how their maid, Mrs. Grose, “shuts her eyes in the dark” and how she finds this silly because she herself, “always look[s] in the dark.” I’ve always thought this exchange interesting and am convinced it could work as a metaphor for this story. We can shut our eyes and believe in logic. That Miss Giddens has simply gone mad and is only seeing things. Or, we can believe people when they say they’ve seen something in the dark.