The Turn of the Screw (1982) film opera
When I listen to the music by Benjamin Britten, I am, like, straining my brain: 'What is it?', 'What should it mean?', 'What an interesting combination of sounds!' and so on. It is like reading the so-called 'intellectual prose', some elaborately written essays. Like reading... Henry James. :) Pure mind; exquisite turns of thought; in the author, a shade of self-admiration for his own ingeniousness and inventiveness.
That is all only highly personal impressions, needless to say. I feel Britten's music conveys wonderfully the spirit of the original; the composer surely understood it better than many film directors who tried to adapt it for the screen. How did he manage it? The general mood of uneasiness, the growing tension, the conflict, the surface of the events and the ominous undercurrents, subtle hints at eroticism (you're never sure it's really there), - incredible how ALL of that is present. As well as the story, the opera is sometimes hard and even painful to follow; similarly, it propels your brains into thinking and guessing.
The music, I said. The libretto is quite another thing. Together with many of James's lines, it contains some curious novelties. I confess I haven't laid my hands on the text yet, so I'll skip the topic for now - except that I had a strongest impression that the ghosts pretty much were there - why, once they even conspired together when there was no one else around!
At first I was very, very glad to have found a film opera version of The Turn of the Screw by Petr Weigl! You know, visual imagery in theatre plays sometimes makes you shut your eyes instinctively, whereas a film is bound to be beautiful, nature-shot and so on. Ha. My first impression was that of stark, undiluted hatred. Only after a while I felt able to appreciate the good things.
The film introduces a prologue of its own, which instantly kills any ambiguity, suspense and interest there could possibly exist, by showing exactly what happened between Miles, Flora, Quint and Miss Jessel when the latter two were still alive.
For seven long minutes, not a word, not a note of music. In the garden, the Uncle is playing chess with himself, while Quint is serving - and remembering his fun with the household.
It becomes more than clear that Miss Jessel physically corrupted Flora, while Quint did the same for Miles. (The children are converted into teens, the boy noticeably older.) The four of them frolic together in the garden, alternately giggling, sighing or breathing heavily.
Gosh, it frightens away the desire to watch further! To me, personally, it looks quite dirty and unnecessary.
Still many people like it, and maybe the prologue fits in with an idea of the film: that Quint and Miss Jessel were especially dear to the young ones. Yes, the film conveys something new to the standard images of the ghosts: they are rather attractive than creepy or frightening. Rather than being harbingers of death or something, they are a true temptation to the teenage siblings, as a memory of shared pleasure and fun; they seduce Miles and Flora into following them.
Far from being silent ghostly presences (that apart from the obvious fact that in an opera even ghosts must sing), Quint and Miss Jessel display alarming varieties of activity. Quint can mind-control the boy (who steals a letter when sleepwalking). A trail of misty fog always curls up at the hem of Miss Jessel's dress. Both can move at unearthly speed, covering long distances fast. At times, the camera shows the house, the garden and the woods from the ghosts' 'point of view'. Remarkably, once we see the estate while listening to the ghosts' singing, and then it is as if their poisonous presence pervaded and owned all of Bly.
To such formidable dark entities is the unlucky Governess opposed!
When she first enters the house, she resembles a bride in her white frilly dress.
She also fancies white flowers.
This fragile innocence makes the viewer shudder for her (one already knows from the beginning what sort of household she's got herself into!).
An enchanted white princess in the woods.
'How beautiful it is! Each day it seems more beautiful to me!'
'Little' Miles is almost as tall as she is.
When the boy kisses her hand passionately, she is disturbed.
She struggles against darkness.
When the white one is finally forced to directly confront and fight the black one, the Princess succeeds in banishing the Witch.
The victory is bitter though: from then on, her white dress is magically splashed with black. (Rather too straightforward for my taste, but it does bring the idea home to the viewer. :))
A digression. This scene (the Miss Jessel/Governess confrontation) is my favourite in the film. Maybe it is thanks to the music (I actually remembered it well). 'Here my tragedy began...' Such a dark, flowing melody for Miss Jessel - and the Governess's responses sounding... not off-key, but from a totally parallel reality, so to say! 'Why are you here?' - 'Alas, alas.' - "It is my desk!' - 'Alas, alas.' - 'They are mine!' Miss Jessel brought the mist with her into the room. :) And the governess is a brave one, really. Such a pity that she loses.
The children - or should we say, teenagers - do not inspire much sympathy: neither the curly-haired, sly-eyed girl who likes to bedeck herself with too many jewels, nor the plain-looking brooding youth ('Malo... a naughty boy' for his theme).
(I spent some time puzzling about what this should mean, before it dawned at me that it should be a play on words: 'malum'(appel. 'malo') = an apple tree, 'malo' = bad.)
As said before, both youngsters are ready to follow their charming dead friends anywhere as soon as those call. Quite obviously, they can see them - and thus, they deceive the Governess.
The imagery of the film is rather suggestive than disturbing.
Apart form the house and the woods...
...there is a strange mosque-like tower at the pool; I think it is quite safe to look for certain Freudian symbolism here.
There is also the obligatory full moon (I haven't got the picture right now.)
Quite creepy, this empty corridor.
The church. (Did they not allow the film group to work inside the church?)
The beauty of the sky, free from corruption and worldly worries.
This is my first acquaintance with Britten's opera The Turn of the Screw, and this, through a rather specific filtre of Weigl's film. I need time to try to understand this music. Still, particular moments of the score stand out very clearly for me.
Sorry for the general naivete of these notes... but I love it how, when the governess is having her doubts about her new job, the drums accentuate it ominously in the music. Later, when she decides: 'I shall do nothing!' (and repeats it thrice, as if to seal the doom upon herself) - the orchestra shows the fatality of her choice by the three dissonant 'strikes'. When the Governess asks Mrs Grose 'Have you known Miles to be bad?', the housekeeper is obviously worried and fusses about - one literally 'sees' it in the accompanying music - and lies about the 'angels' (I think the music also sounds somewhat false at that moment.) The 'Malo' aria is sufficiently eerie and haunting; the 'in the woods' duet of the ghosts, urgent and scary; and the heroine's monologue 'we are lost, lost' is nearly heart-wrenching.
As ever, the story ends badly. Poor white princess!
Last but not least - who voiced the characters? Helen Donath sings the Governess. Robert Tear and Heather Harper gave their voices to the ghosts. Michael Ginn and Lillian Watson are the children.
The film is strange, but it did well enough for me - just take away the first seven minutes, please. And don't call me a bigot: these seven minutes actually taught me to hate paedophilia with all my heart.
That is all only highly personal impressions, needless to say. I feel Britten's music conveys wonderfully the spirit of the original; the composer surely understood it better than many film directors who tried to adapt it for the screen. How did he manage it? The general mood of uneasiness, the growing tension, the conflict, the surface of the events and the ominous undercurrents, subtle hints at eroticism (you're never sure it's really there), - incredible how ALL of that is present. As well as the story, the opera is sometimes hard and even painful to follow; similarly, it propels your brains into thinking and guessing.
The music, I said. The libretto is quite another thing. Together with many of James's lines, it contains some curious novelties. I confess I haven't laid my hands on the text yet, so I'll skip the topic for now - except that I had a strongest impression that the ghosts pretty much were there - why, once they even conspired together when there was no one else around!
At first I was very, very glad to have found a film opera version of The Turn of the Screw by Petr Weigl! You know, visual imagery in theatre plays sometimes makes you shut your eyes instinctively, whereas a film is bound to be beautiful, nature-shot and so on. Ha. My first impression was that of stark, undiluted hatred. Only after a while I felt able to appreciate the good things.
The film introduces a prologue of its own, which instantly kills any ambiguity, suspense and interest there could possibly exist, by showing exactly what happened between Miles, Flora, Quint and Miss Jessel when the latter two were still alive.
For seven long minutes, not a word, not a note of music. In the garden, the Uncle is playing chess with himself, while Quint is serving - and remembering his fun with the household.
It becomes more than clear that Miss Jessel physically corrupted Flora, while Quint did the same for Miles. (The children are converted into teens, the boy noticeably older.) The four of them frolic together in the garden, alternately giggling, sighing or breathing heavily.
Gosh, it frightens away the desire to watch further! To me, personally, it looks quite dirty and unnecessary.
Still many people like it, and maybe the prologue fits in with an idea of the film: that Quint and Miss Jessel were especially dear to the young ones. Yes, the film conveys something new to the standard images of the ghosts: they are rather attractive than creepy or frightening. Rather than being harbingers of death or something, they are a true temptation to the teenage siblings, as a memory of shared pleasure and fun; they seduce Miles and Flora into following them.
Far from being silent ghostly presences (that apart from the obvious fact that in an opera even ghosts must sing), Quint and Miss Jessel display alarming varieties of activity. Quint can mind-control the boy (who steals a letter when sleepwalking). A trail of misty fog always curls up at the hem of Miss Jessel's dress. Both can move at unearthly speed, covering long distances fast. At times, the camera shows the house, the garden and the woods from the ghosts' 'point of view'. Remarkably, once we see the estate while listening to the ghosts' singing, and then it is as if their poisonous presence pervaded and owned all of Bly.
To such formidable dark entities is the unlucky Governess opposed!
When she first enters the house, she resembles a bride in her white frilly dress.
She also fancies white flowers.
This fragile innocence makes the viewer shudder for her (one already knows from the beginning what sort of household she's got herself into!).
An enchanted white princess in the woods.
'How beautiful it is! Each day it seems more beautiful to me!'
'Little' Miles is almost as tall as she is.
When the boy kisses her hand passionately, she is disturbed.
She struggles against darkness.
When the white one is finally forced to directly confront and fight the black one, the Princess succeeds in banishing the Witch.
The victory is bitter though: from then on, her white dress is magically splashed with black. (Rather too straightforward for my taste, but it does bring the idea home to the viewer. :))
A digression. This scene (the Miss Jessel/Governess confrontation) is my favourite in the film. Maybe it is thanks to the music (I actually remembered it well). 'Here my tragedy began...' Such a dark, flowing melody for Miss Jessel - and the Governess's responses sounding... not off-key, but from a totally parallel reality, so to say! 'Why are you here?' - 'Alas, alas.' - "It is my desk!' - 'Alas, alas.' - 'They are mine!' Miss Jessel brought the mist with her into the room. :) And the governess is a brave one, really. Such a pity that she loses.
The children - or should we say, teenagers - do not inspire much sympathy: neither the curly-haired, sly-eyed girl who likes to bedeck herself with too many jewels, nor the plain-looking brooding youth ('Malo... a naughty boy' for his theme).
(I spent some time puzzling about what this should mean, before it dawned at me that it should be a play on words: 'malum'(appel. 'malo') = an apple tree, 'malo' = bad.)
As said before, both youngsters are ready to follow their charming dead friends anywhere as soon as those call. Quite obviously, they can see them - and thus, they deceive the Governess.
The imagery of the film is rather suggestive than disturbing.
Apart form the house and the woods...
...there is a strange mosque-like tower at the pool; I think it is quite safe to look for certain Freudian symbolism here.
There is also the obligatory full moon (I haven't got the picture right now.)
Quite creepy, this empty corridor.
The church. (Did they not allow the film group to work inside the church?)
The beauty of the sky, free from corruption and worldly worries.
This is my first acquaintance with Britten's opera The Turn of the Screw, and this, through a rather specific filtre of Weigl's film. I need time to try to understand this music. Still, particular moments of the score stand out very clearly for me.
Sorry for the general naivete of these notes... but I love it how, when the governess is having her doubts about her new job, the drums accentuate it ominously in the music. Later, when she decides: 'I shall do nothing!' (and repeats it thrice, as if to seal the doom upon herself) - the orchestra shows the fatality of her choice by the three dissonant 'strikes'. When the Governess asks Mrs Grose 'Have you known Miles to be bad?', the housekeeper is obviously worried and fusses about - one literally 'sees' it in the accompanying music - and lies about the 'angels' (I think the music also sounds somewhat false at that moment.) The 'Malo' aria is sufficiently eerie and haunting; the 'in the woods' duet of the ghosts, urgent and scary; and the heroine's monologue 'we are lost, lost' is nearly heart-wrenching.
As ever, the story ends badly. Poor white princess!
Last but not least - who voiced the characters? Helen Donath sings the Governess. Robert Tear and Heather Harper gave their voices to the ghosts. Michael Ginn and Lillian Watson are the children.
The film is strange, but it did well enough for me - just take away the first seven minutes, please. And don't call me a bigot: these seven minutes actually taught me to hate paedophilia with all my heart.