The Turn Of The Screw – REVIEW
Image: THE TURN OF THE SCREW - Lucy Lock & Kim Clifton. Image credit Phil Erbacher
The mood is set the minute you walk into the Reginald Theatre. It is dimly lit, there is a swirling haze on the stage, eerie music is playing. The set, a Victorian interior with heavy wood panelling, dull lamps, and large arched windows feels portentous.
Tooth and Sinew’s new adaptation of Henry James’ The Turn Of The Screw is every bit as haunting and macabre as the original, while making a few more twists of its own.
Richard Hilliar’s re-writing of this classic gothic horror novella remains mostly faithful to James’ story, with time, place, characters and basic plot all preserved. James’ device of having a narrator read a letter is exchanged for the more theatre-friendly real-time telling of the story.
The Turn Of The Screw is a tale steeped in ambiguity; a psychological thriller that leaves much to speculation. The play opens with an unnamed governess (Lucy Lock) arriving for an interview with the master (Harry Reid) of a large manor in Bly, Essex.
This man has been entrusted with the care of his orphaned niece and nephew – a role he has shamelessly little interest in. He would like the governess to take full responsibility for all things relating to the children and absolutely not bother him while he is in London partying.
It’s a shame that this is the only scene in which the master appears, as the banter between he and the governess is quite comical.
The governess then meets the housekeeper, Mrs Grose (Martelle Hammer), who briefs her on the household and introduces her to Flora who is about 8, though played by the much older Kim Clifton. Flora is high-spirited and she and the governess immediately form a bond.
Miles who is 12 (played by the adult actor, Jack Richardson) comes home from boarding school, accompanied by a letter explaining that he has been expelled for an unspecified reason.
From here the intrigue begins, secrets are revealed and inferences are made. We learn that the previous governess, Miss Jessel, had a dalliance with the former valet, Peter Quint. Both these people died in separate incidents and there is now a suspicion — felt almost exclusively by the current governess — that their ghosts not only haunt the property but are attempting to possess the bodies of the children.
There are some classic horror-film jump scares, sinister music, fog, lightning and occasional fades to complete black. However, as eerie as the hints of supernatural forces are, they are not nearly as disturbing as the speculations of sexual abuse and dysfunction being suggested by the governess.
A hot atmosphere of discomfort floats above the action as we slowly grasp the inferences being made. At the same time, there is a strong ambivalence about what is real and what is being imagined.
James’ novella puts a lot of weight on the unreliable narrator (or letter-writer, to be more precise). But it’s easier to keep things invisible or vague in a novel. For the stage, Hilliar has to make commitments about what is being seen and heard and how the characters react.
That said, he has still left a lot of room for conjecture.
This is a genuinely thrilling piece of theatre. The cast are all exceptional and the production elements have a synergetic impact on the whole production.
