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THE HORROR ...
TURN OF THE SCREW by Jeffery Hatcher, Directed by Derek Campbell for ICTC

BY NEIL GARVEY
(review based upon a preview performance): Tis' the season - for horror! And in homage to this time of unholy spirits and hauntings, The Irish Classical Theatre Company has delivered a deliciously dark and moody production of THE TURN OF THE SCREW, playwright Jeffery Hatcher's taught take on Henry James' classic ghost story.

This is the tale of a wealthy Man, who has become the guardian of his young niece and nephew. While the Man remains in London, the children reside at his country estate with the Housekeeper. They are soon joined by the Governess, who is given charge of the children with instructions not to contact the Man in any event, she has complete autonomy to deal with any situation which may arise, and arise they do, in the specters of the not-so-dearly departed.

Guest Artist Carolyn Baeumler, a Buffalo native now residing and working in New York takes on the challenge of the Governess, while ICTC Artistic Director Vincent O'Neill takes on all the other roles. They make a brilliant pair. Henry James wrote the novella in 1898, at the apex of the 19th century romanticism, an era which created the dreamy genre of the gothic horror story. Starting with Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein" in 1818, and moving on with Edgar Allen Poe's tales of the macabre through the 1840's, the epoch culminated with Bram Stoker's "Dracula" published the year before THE TURN OF THE SCREW.

What these classics have in common is an intellectual appeal wherein the suggestion of the apparition is as powerful as the actual appearance. The author plays on our minds in such a way that our anticipation of something terrible is the foundation of the terror. Too often this is what our own lame contemporary horror stories miss. Graphic movies like SAW and so on, if one can sit through them, reach for the jugular, and then slash it, whereupon buckets of blood splash across the screen. Ho hum, to each his own, I suppose.

THE TURN OF THE SCREW, on the other hand, has such lasting appeal that it has been transformed into dozens of adaptations, for the stage, screen, literature, television and even opera. It has also attracted the top talent of the day, perhaps the best known application is "The Innocents" the 1961 film directed by Jack Clayton and featuring Deborah Kerr (It was just on TV recently and still holds up very well.) Other heavyweights who have taken on the story are Marlon Brando, Ingrid Bergman, Lynn Redgrave, Harvey Keitel, and Colin Firth. Even Joyce Carol Oates has had a crack at retelling the story.

Nor is this the first time this play has graced the stage of the Irish Classical Theatre. It was chosen as the swan song for ICTC's old stage at the Calumet Arts Café. The wonderful, memorable, and stark 1998 production directed by Fortunato PezzimentI, featured Vincent O'Neill and Josephine Hogan. Saw it, loved it.

Why has THE TURN OF THE SCREW remained so popular a century plus after its publication? Well, one way to find out is to go see this excellent production, which not only tells the story in impeccable style, it also captures the essence, the spirit, if you will, of James' ghost story.

Upon entering the theatre one is greeted with perfect, evocative music, matching the fog-shrouded multi-level yet deceptively simple set. If that doesn't put you in the mood for a good ghost story, nothing will. Since this is a play for only two actors, the production support is vital and the Irish crew delivers typically top-notch work. (Set Designer Ron Schwartz, Lighting Designer Brian Cavanagh, Sound Designer Tom Makar, Costume Designer Dixon Reynolds and Hair/Make-up Designer Susan Drozd.)

The design, a black and white theme, is frequently wrapped in a soft gray focus, thanks to the misty fog which is expertly disbursed in an uncanny and well-controlled manner. Thus Director Derek Campbell creates an image reminiscent of a 1930's movie, shadowy, dramatic, a bit sinister and eminently watchable. This tightly controlled visual aspect, in turn, provides the perfect medium to create the illusions of people, places and things which are not, in fact, there, but which we none-the-less see as clearly as day. The little girl Flora, for example, never appears in the flesh, but thanks to the exceptional pantomime skill of the actors, the manipulation of mere air and light, we know Flora and we see her.

Those characters which do appear in three dimensions, the unnamed uncle, the nephew Miles, and the ancient housekeeper, Mrs. Grose, are all conjured in the being of Vincent O'Neill, whose transformative abilities are so keen, one can literally see the widow's hump arise on Mrs. Grose's weary shoulders. He shuffles arthritically and breathes a full range of emotion into the old lady, and then, in the blink of an eye Mr. O'Neill assumes the awkward stance and the combustible energy of a naughty, clever ten year old boy. It is simply a joy to watch.

Ms. Baeumler, as the Governess, is a wonderful cacophony of emotions. She is alternately youthful, exuberant, curious, romantic, maternal, dedicated, wary, imperious, and finally, scary. Damned scary. Ms. Baeumler matches Mr. O'Neill thrust for thrust. Indeed her powers of reaction complete the other characters on stage and, importantly, help entreat the entire, fantastical universe which Henry James created and which Mr. Hatcher so cleverly floats on wisps of gossamer.

And Mr. Hatcher has created a marvelous vehicle here. The original story lends itself to ambiguity. The ambiguity no doubt has added to the story's appeal over the years. And here, the ambiguity, the questions of who died, who's alive, who is truthful, who is false, and who knows what swirl about like dead leaves in a cold winter wind and, remarkably, almost improbably, give rise to the terror of the unknown.

The trick, of course, is to layer these shifting perceptions in such a way as the illusion gives way to the reality, or does it? We cannot know for sure, such is the nature of the story, but clearly, Director Campbell has delivered a veritable tiramisu of layers here, a delectable feast of images which fade in and fade out, and we actually see them, whether they are there...or not. Boo!

THE TURN OF THE SCREW directed by Derek Campbell for ICTC through November 13, 2011.

Acting par excellence

Review by James Wegg

www.jamesweggreview.org
4 Stars (out of 5)

Separating what’s real from the imagined has long kept writers of all types inventively engaged in their craft - everyone does love the ambiguity of life on both sides of the abyss. When it comes to ghost stories, the frequent (via untimely passing) becomes the imagined, returning to settle scores, scare the bejezus out of new dwelling owners or – as in the case of The Ghost and Mrs. Muir – a phantom to die for.

Wanting to keep his own pecuniary werewolf from the door, Henry James wrote a five part, twelve-installment tale for a semi-popular literary magazine in 1895 to “take up my own pen again - the pen of all my old unforgettable efforts and struggles,” alluding to the fact that his foray into the theatre as dramatist only proved what a superb novelist he was.

With The Turn of the Screw, James readily demonstrated his mastery of the narrative art even with a predetermined form (the limits of serialization), utilizing a masterful introduction (enticingly teased out in an old country house filled with ladies and gentlemen positively salivating for all of the gruesome details). Brilliantly and in an equally – for James – unusual narrative twist, the actual story is to be a reading of the heroine’s (herself already 20-years dead) journal which faithfully chronicles the incredible chain of events in Bly – a delightfully gothic house in Essex.

From a letter to H.G. Wells, the author sums up his challenge succinctly:

Of course, I had, about my young woman, to take a very sharp line. The grotesque business I had to make her picture and childish psychology I had to make her trace and present, were, for me at least, a very difficult job, in which absolute lucidity and logic, a singleness of effect, were imperative. Therefore, I had to rule out subjective complications of her own – play of tone, etc.,: and keep her impersonal save for the most obvious an indispensable little note of neatness, firmness and courage – without which she wouldn’t have had her data. But the thing is essentially a pot-boiler and a jeu d’esprit.

Ah! If only so many other pot-boilers had been created with half of James’ meticulous craft!

One can only suspect that adapter Jeffrey Hatcher might not have read the letter to the science fiction wizard, prior to his 1996 adaptation of the novella. Constructing it as two-hander solves as many problems as it creates. “The Woman” (an unnamed parson’s daughter) is the singular, narrator; “The Man” plays all the remaining parts (housekeeper Mrs. Grose; the Master of the estate; 10-year-old-going-on-ageless Miles; former manservant to the Master, Peter Quint – so intriguingly close to Peer Gynt) – save and except for Miss Jessel, the previous governess who “went away…”, and Miles’ baby sister Flora. Too conveniently in the play, Flora has been struck dumb having witnessed the horrific end to Quint: that missing voice largely negates James’ notion of “two turns of the screw” being more calamitous than one.

The essence of James is his marvelously irritating habit of asking more questions than are answered. Hatcher is the opposite: the vague sexual innuendo in the original is summarily discarded with far too little left to anyone’s sordid imagination – replete with full-on kisses that seem more aligned with scoutmaster scandals than just what were the “things” Miles is to be expelled for from a very private, very expensive school. The utilization of a covey of riddles works well to establish the young boy’s quick wits, but becomes an unwelcome crutch to open the avenue of possibility regarding the meaning of touch. For those who have never read the “pot-boiler,” this stage version might satisfy in the tabloid “tell-all” of our times. Most tragic of all is the heroine’s MIA metamorphosis from naïve girl hoping to snare her man by doing just as he has asked to heroic saviour of the young whose elders have abused them in ways unspeakable (shielding Miles from Quint in the original ideally sets up the inevitably pathetic finish). Hatcher has so “redone” the events – jamming everything into just seven days, that a “where are they now?” coda is required to allow the patrons in on the fact that the curtain has fallen.

Director Derek Campbell has done his able best to make the ninety minutes of uninterrupted proceedings vanish like mist on the moor toward sunrise. The purposely Spartan set (a series of platforms curiously at one with Lilli pads in the pivotal pond) draws the audience into the notion of choice: is the current governess mad, or do the ghosts truly walk at the property? – score one for Hatcher, having Flora unseen continuously reinforces the conundrum. The choice of human-made music, initially (employing the “Prayer” from Humperdinck’s Hansel and Gretel), is a nice touch; following that reference with Miles’ piano repertoire quoting Saint-Saens Danse Macabre is more than a few measures over the top: why not employ Debussy’s “The Girl with the Flaxen Hair?”

Yet this is a production that cannot be missed by anyone who knows theatrical excellence when they see it. The acting is superb.

Carolyn Baeumler’s overall demeanor as the governess faced with “surprises” unbound is a marvel of overt understatement (she quietly builds to the state of mad), dedication (when flaunting her full body to the mirror the heat rises even as James’ subtle characterization withers on her robust vine) and art (watch her eyes for a masterpiece of inner characterization that belies, confounds or supports the action around her at will).
Proving yet again that he is Buffalo’s most versatile actor, Vincent O’Neill brings his expertise in characterization, body language and timing to the play like never before. (One really wishes the playwright had allowed Flora to speak: what O’Neill might have come up with for that can, sadly, only be imagined.)

In his capable hands, housekeeper Mrs. Grose (Hatcher has summarily fired all of the other servants in James’ typical upper-class world) has a convincingly stooped back (thanks in large part to Dixon Reynolds’ costume design) and appropriate understanding of her “place” in the hierarchy of English life. The Master – seen only in the early-going interview of his next governess for his brother’s orphans – is a model of elegant slime. As the de facto sound effects department, O’Neill manages to iterate such “sounds” as “footstep” with out a snicker; his lascivious utterings as the sex-craved Quint serve Hatcher’s vision to a tee. Unquestionably, best of show comes from his deft depiction of Miles: with a vanishing neck and an especial, short-step walk the physicality of this willingly? (you decide…) possessed youth is only surpassed by a delivery of speech that must have aspiring actors everywhere taking notes as to how such a mature man can readily step into the persona of a pre-pubescent terror. Most other actors wouldn’t stand a ghost of a chance in reaching O’Neill’s level of accomplishment.

Audiences carried away by Irish Classical Theatre's rendition of "The Turn of the Screw"
by Andrew Coddington, Life & Arts Editor
The Griffin, Canisius College

It's not too late here in November to enjoy a good ghost story. Chances are anyone who has taken high school English has heard of "The Turn of the Screw," the quintessential nineteenth century American thriller by Henry James. Those who worked up the courage to tackle this imposing novella probably felt the same thing as I did: it's just not that thrilling. For contemporary readers, whatever ghouls James is able to conjure at the romantic English country house that is the setting are dissipated by his outmoded language and Victorian disposition for too much description. Now, though, in the twenty-first century, the Irish Classical Theatre Company bringing "The Turn of the Screw" to the stage, and the performances are sure to send chills down your spine.

The stage adaptation was done by Jeffrey Hatcher and is pared down to great effect. Everything that may distract audiences from the intense character drama is cut away with a precise knife. You won't find any distracting idylls of a sprawling manor in the country or clutter of a Victorian drawing room; there are no rattling chains, squeaky doors, ephemeral flying sheets – there are no props at all. The play takes place on a stage bare save for a few octagonal platforms or varying height, and the entire cast consists of two players. The Woman, played by Carolyn Baeumler, takes the role of the governess. Meanwhile, The Man, played by Vincent O'Neill, covers three crucial characters: the foreboding uncle who hires the governess to take care of his niece and nephew; Mrs. Grose, the housekeeper; and the young nephew.

While it may be shocking to some audience members, the reliance on two actors playing multiple parts actually works exceedingly well. For a story that can be interpreted as the psychological unraveling of a governess who is "easily carried away," it is visually effective to see her standing starkly alone on the black stage or with an actor playing multiple characters working around her.

The stripped down script naturally causes difficulties. The Man must create three separate personas, all of which must be both immediately recognizable and convincing, and when faced with all that empty stage, the Woman has really got to sell it. Fortunately, every member in the production brings their full talents to bear. O'Neill and Baeumler are simply phenomenal actors. Using body language and voice cues, O'Neill manages to represent the forbidding uncle, reticent old housemaid, and taki ng young nephew expertly – no easy feat for a full grown man. O'Neill additionally performed the play's sound effects. While "creak" and "footfall" when spoken offstage could all too easily sound silly, O'Neill's baritone is so sinister as to be thoroughly blood curdling. Baeumler, too, is enchanting in her performance as the governess. Case in point, though there are no actors, props nor visual tricks that stand in as the ghosts when they appear to the governess, Baeumler's horror and disgust is so convincing that you maybe – just maybe – make out the silhouette of a form before her.

Someone on the crew who deserves special recognition is the lighting designer Brian Cavanagh. His work in "The Turn of the Screw" is spot-on. The lights transition seamlessly from a fully illuminated stage during daytime scenes to isolating shafts during the night to ghoulish hues of sickly green and yellow whenever ghosts appear to the governess. Judicious use of fog completes the thoroughly creepy effect. It is perhaps Cavanagh's practiced lighting that most captures the uncertainty of whether the governess really sees ghosts or is on the verge of a mental breakdown – there's nothing there but light and smoke, but boy, is it gripping.

At the close of the play when the Man asks whether or not the audience has been seduced by the story of the Woman, I nearly felt the urge to mutter "yes," and I very well might have had I not been left so completely captive. The Irish Classical Theatre Company's performance completes what James originally tried to do, namely, grip audiences by the hairs on their necks with the faintest touch and never let go.

This weekend is the last weekend to see "The Turn of the Screw" at the Irish Classical Theatre. There are evening performances on Friday and Saturday at 7:30 p.m. and matinees Saturday and Sunday at 3:00 p.m.