'Turn of the Screw': One Twisted Thriller at Everyman

SHOW INFORMATION:   Turn of the Screw runs through February 24 at Everyman Theatre on Charles Street.  Performances are Weds – Sun; Weds – Thurs at 7:30 PM, Fri – Sat at 8PM, Sun at 7PM, and Sat and Sun at 2PM.  Tickets are $18 - $35.  Call 410-752-2208 or go to www.everymantheatre.org for reservations and more information. 

◊◊◊◊◊ out of five.  1 hour, 25 minutes, no intermission.  Ghost story imagery. 

Is it possible to hold your breath for just short of ninety minutes?  That idea is being tested at Everyman Theatre these days, following the triumphant opening of its latest production, The Turn of the Screw, adapted by Jeffrey Hatcher from the novel by Henry James.  You see, from the moment the lights dim, and a shadowy spotlight goes up on our narrator, you will find yourself helpless in its grip of mesmerizing intrigue.  That the play is performed without an intermission (an increasing thing in theatre these days) is perhaps most natural here – who wants to be interrupted in the middle of a most excellently creepy and chilling ghost story?  That this 19^th century tale of governesses and orphans possessed in a remote British castle is performed on a singular set, with no costume changes and only two actors playing several characters only adds to the tension of this brilliant adaptation of a true classic of the genre.  And its success is due equally to superior writing, direction and acting.

The story is relatively simple, but its implications and unanswered questions are what really make this machine whirl.  A new governess is needed to look after two orphaned children, who are the responsibility of an unwilling uncle.  He has deep pockets and will pay what is necessary for their care, but wishes not to be disturbed by any problems that come up – all issues are the responsibility of the governess.  Upon her arrival at a remote castle, she meets Mrs. Grose, the housekeeper, and the two children, Flora and Miles.  On the surface, all seems well, but Mrs. Grose keeps the secrets of the castle to herself until the last minute, little Flora won't speak, and Miles has been permanently expelled from school for "doing bad things."  Soon, more sinister things begin to happen, ghosts from the past appear, and the play becomes a battle for control over the children between the past and the present.  Of course, that's but one way to look at the strange happenings.  Perhaps all of it is in the mind of the new governess, the newest in a line of several.  Is it a real danger or is she going mad from all of the implications and powers of suggestion?  Are the ghosts controlling the children or are her fears?  Those questions and several others are part of this puzzle left to the audience.

Playwright Jeffrey Hatcher has whittled down this ghost story/psychological thriller to its barest bones.  That is not to say that Henry James' eloquent words are lost, not in the least.  No, this play has pared down to the essentials while maintaining a remarkable balance between smart literature and a crafty sensibility that every single word counts.  In place of James' lengthy descriptions full of imagery and figurative devices, Hatcher uses two or three carefully chosen words to describe specific people, places, things and ideas, which in turn open up a fountain of personal images for the audience.  He has carefully retold the story through a series of diary entries made by the new governess, seven in all, which we are told from the start would be it – in seven days from the start it would all be terrifyingly over, thus building the tension as we get closer and closer to that seventh day.  Hatcher has also dispensed with a crowded stage by dividing all of the roles among two actors, named in the program as only "The Man" and "The Woman."  Actually, The Woman plays only the new governess, while The Man plays every other role from narrator to little boy.  Making the stage even less crowded is that this adaptation, full of sweeping scenes all over the British landscape, is given but one setting and minimal props.  In short, this tale is told with the very least one needs to be complete wrapped up in its multitude of charms.  This less-is-more approach leaves, like any really good ghost story does, almost all of it up to the imagination.

Director Donald Hicken and his technical staff have conjured up one of the tautest stagings in the Baltimore region in years – like Hatcher's adaptation, every move, pause, change of light and every curve of the set is so specific to each moment.  Not an inch of stage is wasted, not a moment unmined for all of its dramatic worth.  In lesser hands, this specificity might come across as heavy handed and "in your face," but Hicken is a master of subtlety.  His direction is so good it is barely noticeable as it happens – nothing will interfere with the telling of this story.  James Fouchard's dark set, full of gauzy walls and large curved entrances and exits is both sweeping as a castle should be and as claustrophobic as any thriller set might be.  This everything set is castle, garden, and lake, and nothing on it suggests any of those settings, yet all of it does.  Similarly, Colin Bills' eerie lighting suggests brightness in the dark and darkness in more brightly lit moments.  We see only what the collaborators want us to see, and even then it is only in half light or up lighting that suggests a creepy storytelling at camp with a flashlight held under the chin.  One thing is clear: like the play, the set and lighting are part of the marvelous mind game this production plays with its audience.  Chas Marsh's sound – a series of sinister tones, frightening in and of themselves – is as remarkable for its absence as it is when it happens.  Instead of recording the sounds of birds, The Man makes the bird calls, instead of loud claps of thunder (and flashes of lightning) there is silence as the phenomenon is mentioned and the terror of the occasion is etched onto The Woman's face.  And Gail Stewart Beach's costumes – there are only two – conjure up enough imagery for any rack of clothing usually found in a period piece.  The Woman's stiff, completely black dress, floor length and long sleeved brings to mind Jane Eyre and the like, and suggests a severity that is in sharp contrast to The Woman's character.  The Man, dressed in formal 19^th century tuxedo garb, suggests any number of things – a wealthy man, a proper young boy, an undertaker…

Despite superior writing, design and direction, any production of this play would fold as easily as a house of cards without two remarkable actors in the roles of The Man and The Woman.  Theatregoers needn't worry with this production, for Everyman seldom miscasts.  No, in fact, two of this region's finest actors are taking the stage these evenings in what amounts to a two-person tour de force; they are Megan Anderson and Bruce R. Nelson.

Ms. Anderson, who has yet to disappoint this critic, is no less than stunning as the sweet governess determined to give these orphaned children what they need most – love and affection.  Everything about her performance is carefully chosen – the way in which she grasps an unseen child's hand, the way she strokes her hair while she sings the girl to sleep – but never once feels calculated.  Her large, constantly seeking eyes tell much of the story – they are a mirror into the soul of this woman, be it times of warmth and love or abject terror or steely resolve to vanquish evil.  Her eyes also lead us to many of the play's questions – is this real or in the governess' mind?  Is she a strong woman or is she spiraling out of sanity into madness?  With measured words, specific emphasis and pausing, (and all with an effortless accent) she conveys all of the possibilities, which ultimately gives this thriller its thrills.  Ms. Anderson is not acting, she is being.

Mr. Nelson, another actor who really has never disappointed this critic, gives a relatively subdued performance.  Known for larger than life characters and over the top theatricality, he has really pulled in the reins here, and the effect is downright scary.  As the narrator/mysterious uncle, his crisp line readings complete with meaningful pauses and uncanny word emphasis, Nelson sets the tone straight away, almost daring us to look away or run before things get really ugly.  He also portrays Mrs. Grose, the housekeeper, with a simple shawl and slight stoop of the shoulder.  Later, he plays the boy, Miles, again with something so simple as a slight shift in posture, and a bent-in-respect head.  Those simple, yet specific aspects of his characters tell us instantly who he is playing, sometimes within the same scene.  What is remarkable, and an excellent choice, is that while he may change the cadence of his voice, Mr. Nelson never affects the tones of an older woman or young boy.  And yet, I'd be willing to say that most of the audience probably could hear exactly that in their minds.  No, Mr. Nelson lays it all out there for us, but makes us fill in the blanks with our imagination, adding yet one more layer to the pervasive tension in the room.  There is a moment in his dazzling performance, where in the space of seconds, he plays Miles, Mrs. Grose and the, until then, unseen Flora.  It was a moment of sheer theatrical magic.  Bravo!

So, who says Halloween is the only time for such a tale?  Warm your insides with a dash of fear, a large helping of tension, and some of the finest theatre available these days.  With The Turn of the Screw, Everyman starts 2008 with a brilliant shiver down the spine – of terror and excellent theatre.

PHOTOS: Courtesy of Everyman Theatre, all photos by Stan Barouh.  Megan Anderson as The Woman and Bruce R. Nelson as The Man.

 

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