Tuesday, 30 October 2012

the innocents

(via ass-acid tumblr)
What shall I sing to my lord from my window?
What shall I sing for my lord will not stay?
What shall I sing for my lord will not listen?
Where shall I go when my lord is away?
Whom shall I love when the moon is arisen?
Gone is my lord and the grave is his prison.
What shall I say when my lord comes a calling?
What shall I say when he knocks on my door?
What shall I say when his feet enter softly?
Leaving the marks of his grave on my floor.
Enter my lord. Come from your prison.
Come from your grave, for the moon is a risen.
Welcome, my lord.

The Innocents, 1961, directed by Jack Clayton

Suspense, dread, phantoms, madness, repression... possession. Just as Henry James' Turn Of The Screw is, really, far scarier than Dracula in its hold on the imagination, so too the 1961 film version quietly digs deep into the psyche in a way unlike many other more obvious horrors, entwining like creeping ivy. Deborah Kerr's increasingly terrified wide-eyed expressions combine with ominous shots of some darkness just out of sight, seen as much in the frequency of shots of the children from behind as in candlelight trembling down long lonely corridors or the curtains of open windows shivering in the wind. This is the genuinely unsettling feeling of indefinable evil, made all the more so by an atmospheric soundtrack dominated by sinister effects and music. Cottage Of Electric Hell collated these sounds into a continuous piece, which is well worth hearing in its own right. In the dark, of course. It goes well with late night bumps in the night. Oh, we do love to be scared.

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