A Spellbinding Deborah Kerr Seeks the Truth of The Innocents

             One of the most atmospheric and chilling ghost stories found in cinema, 1961’s The Innocents, a hypnotic adaptation of Henry James’ 1898 novella The Turn of the Screw, leaves it to viewers to determine what is reality and supernatural in regards to the tale involving Miss Giddens, an inexperienced, eager governess placed in charge of two children, Miles and Flora, at a remote country estate, and thereafter becoming concerned the brother and sister are being haunted and possessed by the previous, deceased governess and her lover, who she believes may have corrupted the youths. Director Jack Clayton, fresh from resounding success via his first feature-length directorial assignment, 1959’s Room at the Top, suffered no sophomore slump with his second endeavor, facing the challenges of convincingly suggesting paranormal activity without blatantly showing much with the artfulness of a much more experienced film master. Clayton details the surprising turns found in the expert script by William Archibald, Truman Capote and John Mortimer with great panache, alternating a tranquil, dreamy quality with the darker undertones central to the story, maintaining a suspenseful mood that builds to the film’s tense, mysterious climax. Clayton is also aided by a superb cast lead by Deborah Kerr at her zenith, and Freddie Francis’ evocative, black and white cinematography, which captures every eerie moment with maximum impact, including several shocks sure to keep patrons jitterily on the edge of their seats.

                By 1961, Deborah Kerr was enjoying peak success after a phenomenal career that had seen her go from strength to strength since her screen debut in 1941’s Major Barbara. Kerr would build on this start by first becoming one of Britain’s top leading ladies in fare such as The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, I See a Dark Stranger and 1947’s masterpiece Black Narcissus, before an MGM contract beckoned her to Hollywood for The Hucksters opposite no less than Clark Gable. One of the publicity angles for the film reminded viewers that “Kerr” rhymed with “Star,” and in short order Kerr lived up to the hype, becoming a beautiful, charming figure in a host of major MGM titles, such as the rousing adventure King’s Solomon’s Mines and 1951’s epic Quo Vadis, while feeling somewhat underutilized by the studio in regard to developing her talent. 1953 offered a huge career boost, with Kerr going against her ladylike image to famously play in seductive mode on a beach with Burt Lancaster in From Here to Eternity. Thereafter Kerr was offered her pick of prime roles, and scored in an array of films, such as The King and I, Heaven Knows, Mr. Allison, Separate Tables and one of her warmest, most moving performances in The Sundowners, just prior to making The Innocents.

                Kerr tackles the role of the nervous, inquisitive governess with passionate resolve, carrying the audience with her as the governess becomes embroiled in the mystery surrounding her young charges. Kerr does an expert job detailing the naïve, skittish nature of the role at the film’s outset, allowing a viewer to have sympathy for Miss Giddens as they then become progressively unnerved by the disturbing aspects of the character, especially as her sightings of ghostly apparitions around the manor increase, and her conviction they are after her charges become stronger. Kerr’s intensity in these scenes allows Miss Giddens to become spooky herself, as she tries to force the children to face the spirits and reveal more about their past. In these latter scenes, Kerr makes it clear Giddens is fervent in her belief she must compel Miles and Flora to acknowledge what she feels is the truth, and does a great job of maintaining enough subtility in her portrayal to leave it to the audience to determine if Giddens is right in what she sees and believes, may have repressions of her own that are causing her to become increasingly delusional, or possesses a combination of these traits.

                Although still a pre-teen, Martin Stephens had built an impressive screen resume prior to filming The Innocents, with over a dozen British movies to his credit, starting in 1954 with The Divided Heart, released when Stephens was five years old. Reaching greater prominence in 1960 via the sci-fi cult classic Village of the Damned, the experienced Stephens was perfectly poise to play the confident and prematurely mature Miles. With his placid demeanor and unforgettably calm, cultured voice Stephens works in wonderful tandem with Kerr, with the pair at times suggesting adult dynamics to their characters’ relationship that must have raised plenty of Production Code associates’ eyebrows. Stephens also leaves it open as to how much the troubled Miles has been affected by past events, and if he witnessed any untoward events therein, making one wonder if any evil nature exists in his makeup, or if he simply is a wise-beyond-his-years child. After his outstanding work in The Innocents a promising future in films appeared a given, but Stephens would only partake of two more movies, leaving his precocious, highly individual work as Miles (and in Village) to serve as reminders of his rare ability onscreen.

Pamela Franklin matches her costars in giving a vivid, compelling performance. However, unlike Kerr and Stephens, Franklin had no prior experience in film, making what she pulls off in the difficult role of Flora all the more remarkable. In a similar vein to Stephen’s deft work as Miles, many scenes hold an enigmatic air concerning Flora’s true mindset, and Franklin does a perfect job in never overplaying this puzzling aspect of Flora’s personality. When Flora does face confrontation at a critical juncture in the story, Franklin enacts the child’s abrupt emotional outburst with stunning force, further adding to the complexities found in Flora’s makeup. Her breakthrough work in The Innocents would launch a fine career in films and television during the next two decades for Franklin, with her peak possible coming via 1969’s The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, wherein again Franklin plays a juicy, hard-to-read role with great skill, polish and conviction.

The esteemed Michael Redgrave, no stranger to the suspense genre after his brilliant performance as a tormented ventriloquist in the grandaddy of horror anthology films, 1945’s Dead of Night, brings a calm-yet-uneasy quality to his brief but critical role at the film’s outset, as the uncle hiring Miss Giddens to care for his niece and nephew, while making it clear he wants nothing to do with them. Megs Jenkins is also spot on as Mrs. Grose, the warm, earnest housekeeper who tries to support both the child and Miss Giddens as turmoil increases, while becoming perplexed concerning what exactly to believe- in many respects Mrs. Grose serves as an audience identification point, reacting to situations as a viewer might, with Jenkins admirably allowing the character to maintain a sense of normalcy not found elsewhere in the film. Finally, as the chief figure of Miss Gidden’s visions, Peter Wyngarde powerfully conveys a diabolical, smoldering presence in just a few moments onscreen, establishing himself as one of the scariest but sexiest ghosts in movies.

The Innocents found favor with audiences and critics upon its late-1961 release, with reviewers citing the film as one of the best adaptations of a James’ novel, and one of the best ghost stories ever seen on screen. The National Board of Review included the film among its Top Ten for the year, with Clayton winning for Best Director. Clayton also was a nominee at the Director’s Guild of America, as was the screenplay at the Writers Guild of America. The British Academy named the movie as a contender for both Outstanding British Film and Best Film from Any Source. Kerr was lauded for giving one of her most impactful performances, but somehow missed out on a deserved Oscar nomination after previously being cited six times, an injustice as eerie as the film itself. The Innocents sterling reputation has only increased over time, with the bewildering nature of the story, superior direction and acting, and top production values continuing to render lovers of great cinema agog while viewing this bewitching classic filled with intrigue and excitement galore.

Vincent Price Enters the Horror Realm with Panache in House of Wax

With the advent of television in the late 1940’s-early 1950’s, wherein the new medium became many households’ primary source of entertainment, Hollywood sought methods to bring audiences back into theaters, with varying degrees of success. Although Cinemascope and other widescreen offerings, often epic storylines, did help pull in the masses consistently, the 3D cinema experience witnessed a brief reign of success, staring with Bwana Devil in late November of 1952, before being abandoned as a viable filming option within a few years, to the extent that some movies shot in 3D mainly had releases in regular 2D format. However, during this period several inventive quality 3D movies were created, such as Kiss Me Kate, Alfred Hitchcock’s Dial “M” for Murder and The Creature from the Black Lagoon. Of these, perhaps none showed the benefits of 3D to better advantage and caught the public’s fancy as well as Warner Bros.’ House of Wax, which hit theaters in April of 1953, when interest in 3D was at a peak.

A remake of 1933’s Mystery of the Wax Museum, director Andre de Toth’s grade-A production manages to up the ante considerably in regards to suspense and overall plot construction, with screenwriter Crane Wilbur’s tight, funny and exciting script (based on “The Wax Works” by Charles Belton) offering de Toth and a talented cast rich opportunities to put over many chilling moments with great panache, as the eerie tale concerning a gifted early 1900’s sculpturer, Henry Jarrod, who has lost his ability to create waxworks, but not his passion for the subject, unfolds in an often-macabre manner.  Although the one-eyed de Toth could be viewed as being at a disadvantage in helming a major 3D undertaking, the colorful bon vivant tackled the assignment with style and aplomb, staging scenes that rank among the most vivid and innovative in 3D film, such as the famous early sequence wherein Jarrod fights a business adversary amid a museum in flames, as the wax figures slowly melt, in jarring visuals hard to forget. De Toth also never loses a sense of fun among the proceedings, such as the peerless Act II opening (3D films had to have an intermission to change reels) wherein paddleball man Reggie Rymal directly addresses the viewer while performing tricks outside the opening of the new wax museum or, in one of the most finely-crafted chases on film, the segment wherein the terrified heroine runs through darkened New York City streets attempting to escape the clutches of a disfigured, very creepy pursuer, as the audience hangs on the edge of their seats in rapt anticipation of the outcome. De Toth would continue in movies for the next two decades before his passing in 2002 at 89, including among his credits a prime film noir in 1954, Crime Wave, but House would remain his most successful and iconic work.

For Vincent Price, House would not only mark one of his biggest hits since his film debut fifteen years earlier in Service de Luxe, but also point his career in a different direction after years of playing leads and supporting parts in such diverse fare as The Invisible Man Returns, Laura, Dragonwyck, The Three Musketeers and His Kind of Woman, wherein Price added plenty of spice to the proceedings with his flamboyant work. This perchance to provide entertaining theatrics, combined with the conviction and focus Price brings to each scene,  plays a central role in his portrayal of Jarrod, creating a rich, clear characterization that gains the viewer’s sympathy; even when his actions reach desperate, immoral proportions and one has to root against him, Price makes Jarrod’s passion for producing his art by any means believable, revealing a knack for adding both unnerving and identifiable human aspects to his often-ignoble role. Price’s gift for remaining humane under repugnant circumstances proved to be a huge asset thereafter as he became a Horror icon onscreen, specifically starting in the late 1950s-1960s after teaming up with William Castle, then Roger Corman for a series of excursions into the lurid, such as The Tingler, The Pit and the Pendulum and The Masque of the Red Death. A true renaissance man, Price would also mingle in fields such as art and cooking while continuing to act, with fine work in The Whales of August and Edward Scissorhands and his memorable, sinister narrative on Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” counting among his chief late-career highlights, before his passing in October of 1993.

As Sue Allen, Wax’s brave, inquisitive heroine, Phyllis Kirk would find her signature screen role, after entering films in 1950. Kirk’s rich, low vocal tones and pensiveness are an ideal fit for Sue, who finds herself in a series of chilling encounters. Although Kirk perhaps did not have the phenomenal screaming acumen Fay Wray demonstrated in the original version (and beyond, as Fay met King Kong in her Mystery follow-up), with that great voice Kirk nevertheless proves herself to be one of the screen’s prime damsels-in-distress, one possessing her own individual flair. It’s hard to forget Kirk sobbing and crying out “Cabbie!” during the showpiece late-night chase as she falls prey to, then tries to outsmart an unknown attacker (the quick-witted Sue just as quickly gains the audience’s admiration in this sequence), or her terror and despair as Sue scratches at the sides of a could-be wax coffin during the hair-raising finale. Kirk would continue in movies throughout the 1950’s, with her work the following year in de Toth’s aforementioned Crime Wave also standout, while simultaneously thriving on television, where she would gain her greatest fame (and an Emmy nomination) opposite Peter Lawford later in the decade via The Thin Man. However, her place in film history is assured based on her charming, persuasive work as Wax’s understandably apprehensive leading lady.

As Cathy Gray, Sue’s kind and carefree best friend and roommate, Carolyn Jones stands out in a breakthrough role, after debuting the previous year in The Turning Point. Adding invaluable zest and humor to her brief assignment Jones incorporates so much vivacity into the part one wishes to know much more about Cathy, with her jovial presence lingering over the film. Jones had a knack for making strong impressions in top 1950’s movies via very limited screentime, culminating in a well-earned Oscar nomination, with about six minutes of screentime, as the lonely, jittery bohemian in 1957’s The Bachelor Party, which lead to some meatier roles until Jones ultimately gained immortality on television as Morticia in The Addams Family. The physically imposing Charles Buchinsky (a.k.a. Bronson) also makes a great early-career impact as Igor, Jarrod’s loyal, mute assistant- Bronson does a deft job combining in Igor a menacing quality with a childlike innocence. Among the rest of the stalwart cast, Frank Lovejoy does strong work as a detective investigating the (cue the 1933 title), Paul Picerni is warm and likable as Jarrod’s apprentice and Sue’s love interest, and Roy Roberts plays Jarrod’s unsavory business associate with verve and an admirable lack of sympathy.

Upon release, Wax’s box-office returns quickly outpaced other 3D offerings, and most other 1953 releases, finishing as the seventh biggest hit of the year with $5,500,000 in U.S./Canadian film rentals, according to Variety. The interest in catching Wax on the big screen in 3D has never waned during subsequent decades, as can be attested to by the film’s chief placement as one of the preeminent classics on view during the many 3D revivals and festivals allowing new generations to discover this key brand of cinema. However, as television and other standard venues for viewing the movie prove, Wax in 2D stands on its own as a great entertainment. The author has been a fan since seeing the film as a child and being fairly unhinged by the experience, and once was disappointed to hear, just before a showing at a big 3D festival, that Wax could only be screened via a 2D version. The film still went over like gangbusters, and was received almost as enthusiastically by the audience as a later, at last in 3D, screening. In any format, House of Wax remains a preeminent example from the 3D and Horror genres, one that pulls the viewer in via top-notch production values, nail-biting suspenseful sequences beautifully staged by de Toth, and a cast of pros that bring colorful, memorable characterizations to the screen.