Review: The Turn of the Screw is an impressive thriller
Written by Richard Hilliar (after Henry James), directed by Richard Hilliar, presented by Tooth and Sinew
Review by Ceridwen Bush
My heart beats a little bit too fast. It rattles around like a spare part in an empty shoe box. It's a family affliction, and my Mum bought me the works of Edgar Allen Poe before I made it to high school. She learnt long before me that “the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage” or, that the thrill of a fictional fear is better than the spiral of a meaningless anxiety.
Going to see The Turn of the Screw, I was looking forward to being made uncomfortable. I wanted to feel upset for a purpose. A fictional fear has causes and meaning. Shaky, sweaty hands, because I sent a weird email, are just embarrassing. But because of a haunted house, they’re justified, especially if an exorcism is involved.
Richard Hilliar’s The Turn of the Screw is an adaptation of Henry James’s novella of the same name. The novella is a literary darling. You can tell because the Wikipedia page mentions structuralism, feminism and Marxism in its introduction. I could tell because I walked out of Hilliar’s play feeling guilty for not doing my homework.
The Turn of the Screw builds tension like it’s tightening fishing wire around your fingers. It’s sharp, slow and aching for a release. An experienced Governess (Lucy Lock) takes a position caring for orphans Miles and Flora (Jack Richardson, Kim Clifton), a duty that their London-residing uncle (Harry Reid) wants to know absolutely nothing about. She is explicitly instructed not to involve him in any of the children's affairs while she resides with them in his countryside manor.
Frightening your audience is a very quick way to make them pay attention. You can skip a coy allusion and get straight to the point. The Governess's uncharacteristic shriek at the innocuous touch of the children’s guardian very early on is a plain signal that this play will be about sexual assault.
Arriving at her post, the Governess is greeted by the delightful Liverpool accent of Mrs Grose (Martelle Hammer). The hardworking housekeeper shines with adoration for the children and accepts the Governess with warmth. Kim Clifton’s debut performance as Flora catches the light in every scene, whether it’s playful banter or a wailing tantrum. Matching her energy, Jack Richardson as Miles pulls your heartstrings and makes your stomach turn. Their personalities are unexpectedly dichotomous, leaving them troublingly unreliable.
The set runs with this discomfort. The stage is framed by charred blocks of wood and scattered with overgrown grass. The wood panelling and provincial windows hint at the barren spaces of the manor, and her formidable doors unfurl slowly throughout the scenes. The doors let in a darkness you can’t look away from, as you wait for an unrecognisable figure to slink through.
The sound of a thriller is distinct – the dull thrumming of a heartbeat, a build that pulses like the rush of blood in your ears, then sharp swings in pitch that strike you even when you know they’re coming. The excellent sound design by Chrysoulla Markoulli matches and exceeds this tradition. Behind rattling train tracks is the faint pant of a hot breath, layered in a way that has you expecting it to hit your neck instead of your ears. The sound fills the theatre during the intermission and it’s overwhelming – even without the visual stimuli.
James’s novella has been through endless analysis and dissection because of its central ambiguity. While the plot in this version runs closely to the original, Hilliar’s sense of humour trickles through. Quick-witted exchanges between the Governess and the children's Uncle, Miles's immature boasting, and Flora's smart mouth all act as quirky additions to an otherwise vague and sluggish plot.
It's in these small details that the play becomes an impressive piece. Hilliar takes the classic motif of two strange children and makes them more than just creepy. Miles is pretentious and charming, boldly criticising the Governess’s interpretations of Frankenstein. Flora has endless energy and identifies as being “terribly wicked”. They are far more interesting than their Netflix adaption counterparts in The Haunting of Bly Manor.
Without challenging its source material too much, The Turn of The Screw tells of the haunting persistence of fear and the innate dread brought by a door left ajar. Replace your Sunday scaries with some actual scaries, in the great tradition of gothic horror, before it leaves the Seymour Centre.
The Turn of the Screw plays at the Seymour Centre until 12 August. Find tickets here.
Images by Phil Erbacher
Ceridwen loves things that are disgusting. She talks really fast and doesn’t mind a space balloon in the park. Find her ranting and raving on Instagram @scrridwen.
Like what we do? Subscribe to our Patreon, or buy us a coffee.
