If the recent onslaught of cold weather hasn’t already chilled you to your core, the Almeida theatre’s production of Henry James’ dark and ghostly tale The Turn Of The Screw is almost certain to send a few more icy shivers trembling down your spine.
Rebecca Lenkiewicz’s new adaptation, from what most of us could gather from behind the safety of our scarves, theatre programmes and notepads, follows the fate of a governess who is employed to take care of two young orphans after the untimely and mysterious death of her predecessor. When the new governess notices spectral figures in the grounds of the house, she begins to fear for the children’s safety and will do anything within her power to protect them.
From the moment we first meet Anna Madeley as the nervous woman being interviewed for the position, she is a picture of anxiety, but, as the production progresses and she delves into the past of the house’s deceased employees Miss Jessel and Peter Quint, this picture of mild anxiety evolves into one of fear, determination and unbearable torment. Whether their evil spirits really are coercing the children into collusion or the governess is descending into a state of extreme madness remains in the imagination of the audience.
Madeley is supported by an equally nervy Gemma Jones whose character, a long-serving aid to the family, proves to be a vital source of information for the governess, jittering and avoiding the unmentionable but inevitably releasing tiny nuggets of information about the children’s relationship with the depraved couple, which drive the unstable guardian further and further into desperate despair.
There are stand-out performances, also, from the inquisitive young duo who unknowingly deliver renditions of their morbid songs with gleeful pride, their innocence seemingly marred by the debauchery of the late servants.
Peter McKintosh’s elaborate revolving set and Lindsay Posner’s immaculate direction give the production a stiff pace. No sooner have you recovered from one terrifying episode than you’re once again propelled upwards out of your seat in a fit of petrified hysteria at the sight of another ghostly figure emerging from the shadows.
As if these spectral apparitions weren’t unsettling enough, Scott Penrose adds a handful of spine-tingling illusions, from sheets of music flying off the piano to an unmanned piece of chalk scrawling on the blackboard, building on the disquieting atmosphere evoked by the sinister combination of Jack Henry James’ spooky video designs, John Leonard’s haunting sound and Tim Mitchell’s sparse lighting.
It isn’t often, at the end of a show, that you find yourself having to apologise to the people sitting next to you for your erratic behaviour during the performance but, following the tense two hours and 10 minutes of The Turn Of The Screw, it would be rude not to.