Jack Clayton
The Innocents

Following a rather peculiar (and slightly pagan) tradition, the most "British" English respect the custom of telling each other ghost stories on Christmas Eve. This explains the particular inclination towards gothic themes among Anglo-Saxon peoples, and why Mr. Charles Dickens called upon three specters to soften the heart of Mr. Scrooge. It also explains the initial inspiration behind one of Henry James's most famous works, the short novel "The Turn of the Screw," which begins with the meeting of three friends eager to scare each other with their stories. This is the story that, in 1961, English director Jack Clayton (some may remember him from "The Great Gatsby") decided to bring to the screen, producing what is generally considered (alongside "The Haunting" by R. Wise) the best ghost film in the history of cinema.

The story itself is not that complex: a governess who is tasked with looking after Flora and Miles, the nephews of a cold-hearted London businessman, taking on full responsibility for them, finds herself in a huge and eerie country house with the two children, who soon show signs of being obsessed (if not possessed) by the ghosts of the previous governess and the uncle's personal valet, lovers in life. However, James's text contains much more, as it is one of his early experiments with narrative techniques and a keen observation of the importance of point of view within a story, including a continuous play with the narrator's credibility. The significance of Jack Clayton's film lies largely in its ability to maintain the novel's ambiguities, the shadow of doubt cast over Miss Giddens (the protagonist), the constant interplay between reality and interpretation that ultimately depends almost exclusively on her lips. While print allows these questions to be fully rendered, representing them on celluloid poses a decidedly dangerous challenge (indeed, the other two film versions of the same story, one from 1972, "Suddenly in the Night," the other from 1992, "The Innocents" with Patsy Kensit, also fail miserably). A challenge that this film triumphs over, thanks to a series of highly refined factors. First and foremost, an excellent screenplay to which Truman Capote also contributed, entrusting Miss Giddens with all the interpretations and keys to understanding what is happening: no other character, in fact, will ever claim within the film to have seen ghosts or confirm the governess's theories about the children's behavior. Secondly, the extraordinary performance of a group of actors in top form: the two children alternate innocence and cunning with truly convincing spontaneity, disorienting the viewer, who will never know whether to judge them innocent (as in the film's title) or truly corrupted by the presences that seem to haunt the house. Deborah Kerr, in the role of Miss Giddens, delivers a performance that deserved any award, skillfully transitioning with discretion and never overacting from sweetness to severity, from serenity to terror, lending or removing credibility from her character at will, now clear-headed and analytical, now almost deliriously obsessed, but never able to hide even the slightest emotion (great is the scene where, with an utterly trivial question, Flora manages to make Miss Giddens express her secret infatuation for the uncle, her employer, through her embarrassed reaction). But even the supporting cast is no less impressive, starting with Megs Jenkins in the role of the housekeeper, Miss Jessel, visibly embarrassed by the governess's actions, bewildered and unable to comprehend her motivations.

Finally, and certainly not least, Clayton's work in directing and Freddie Francis's cinematography. Clayton directs with a sure hand, without resorting to the usual gothic tricks (subterranean passages, creaking doors, sudden jumps, monstrous tricks), but making even absolutely normal details like a closed door, a curtain cord, the decoration of a piece of furniture haunting and distressing simply by framing them with a wide-angle lens, or with light play, or even by simple juxtaposition within a scene. The appearances of ghosts are never entrusted to dissolves, nor do the ghosts have anything truly spectral about them: just the sudden passage of a figure, a silhouette on a tower, the approach of a face behind a window is enough to chill the blood (in this, too, the sound, artfully used, helps, excluding noises, or selecting and amplifying them in an exaggerated manner). Some scenes, then, are truly textbook, starting with the one that inspired Kate Bush's song "Infant Kiss" (that is, seeing how just a frame can completely transform a simple goodnight kiss), then moving on to the apparitions on the lake (including the extraordinary entrance of Flora, whose reflection in the water we initially see) and the intensely dramatic final sequence with Miles and Miss Giddens. Francis photographs everything in black and white, softening the contrast and accentuating the white, thus making people as fleeting as ghosts and the nature decidedly expressionist (see the trees during Miles's horse-riding scene).

For anyone seeking their film for a "British" Christmas Eve, this is absolutely one of the most suitable titles (being careful to remember that the title of the Italian version is "Suspense"). The only problem? On Christmas morning, instead of humming "Jingle Bells" or "Tu Scendi dalle Stelle," you will have only Flora's melancholic ballad stuck in your head...