The Innocents (1961)

Recently a friend of mine acquired a brilliant step-daughter in the most perfect way possible. This new family has the same difficulties that I find in my own household, und zwar, that I love horror movies but I can't find anybody to watch with me. A few weeks ago my friend invited me over to watch with her step-daughter a film I'd never seen: The Turning (2018). Of course I started thinking about Henry James's novel, and rereading it.

I've also been listening to a couple of brilliant podcasts, including Monster, She Wrote (named after a book which collects significant horror-related texts written by women) which has forced me to read more Daphne DuMaurier. Yes. Forced. And there's another podcast called Nightlight which has pushed me into the edgier realm of horror by black writers. I have truly enjoyed finding a new world to connect to, and another cultural milieu. But the best thing about this new world is that it has brought so much good writing and amazing art to my brain! (Warning: although "Monster" and "Nightlight" are absolutely worth reading, they are not for young or immature readers. Please consider carefully all content advisories!)

So Quarantine happened, and I was forced to begin watching DVDs again (Yes. Forced). And The Innocents (1961) starring Deborah Kerr just happened to appear on my queue, and in my mailbox, and I just slipped it right into the player and watched it. . .

Like The Turning, The Innocents maintains two key elements of this brilliant ghost story: ambiguity and Freudian/pedophilic undertones.

The ambiguity has become standard fare for a certain type of horror - especially for characters in relative isolation, whether that's Bly Manor, or a New York apartment. It can be extremely frustrating for certain audiences. Younger viewers can sometimes prefer that everything be tied neatly. Such was my experience with my young friend who was showing me The Turning. The ambiguity had presented itself as a question, and she looked to me for the answer. But the ambiguity is the answer, and that isn't something that everyone is comfortable with: see fix-it fic, or online discussions of Inception (2010).

By changing the title from The Turn of the Screw to The Innocents, the film emphasizes the relative maturity of the characters. Miss Giddens, although older, seems by parts infantilized - possibly in backstory by her father the parson, while Martin Stephens (Miles) has played that "older than his years" boy more than once (see Village of the Damned [1960]). Miss Giddens tries to be mature, but (faithful to James's story) she takes the governess position because she has a giant crush on their male guardian, who asks her if she has an imagination. She admits as much, and this doesn't seem to be a problem. But it is a trait generally associated with youth.

I have been a nanny and a babysitter, and I've had confrontations with children in which I thought they were lying. In one memorable instance, I was terribly wrong and needed to repent and ask for the child's forgiveness. I was foolish, just as Miss Giddens describes herself. But in her climactic confrontation with Miles, I saw my own immaturity. I recognized it as immaturity. There's something lacking in her demeanor.

Miles himself is a budding sociopath. He's a sweet-talker, but he kills small animals. He's not exactly The Bad Seed (1956), but he's certainly in need of intervention. Whether because psychology was still too rudimentary, or because his governess is too superstitious, he isn't to receive it, though.

The combination of Miles's flirtatiousness and Miss Giddens's naivete creates some very awkward moments in the film that should make the viewer pause. It isn't quite "shocking" these days, as the poster suggests, but it is instead artfully filmed to make the audience squirm in their seats and wonder about Henry James, and perhaps the motivating role of innocence.

I recommend this film to anyone who liked the cinematography of The Third Man (1949), Gaslight (1944), or Shadow of a Doubt (1943).