Gwynne Edwards' 'Lorca: Living in the Theatre' (2003). Part II

Gwynne Edwards, Lorca: Living in the Theatre. London and Chicago: Peter Owen, 2003.

The Public / El público (1930) -- first professional production, 1987, Madrid: 

"[T]he effect was a remarkably ghostlike setting, the characters existing in some disembodied world, and this was further heightened by the angles of lighting, which often illuminated only the sides of faces or created elongated shadows -- a mysterious, haunting, inner world, the darkened corner of the mind's recesses" (page 57).

When Five Years Pass / Así que pasen cinco años (1931): "Lorca was, for a variety of reasons, highly conscious of the passing of time and the inevitable consequences of this" (page 68). 

"' A great hand's taken her. / It must be the hand of God. / Don't bury me!'" (page 72).

". . . Lorca's play is much more sophisticated and polished than the Buñuel-Dalí film [Un Chien andalou, 1929], however much praise has been lavished on the latter. It [When Five Years Pass] illustrates Lorca's notion of a work of art as a journey, in this case a journey from day-dream and fantasy to bitter disillusionment. And in that respect it also has a coherence and a sense of the author's controlling hand which is at odds with [André] Breton's definition of Surrealism as spontaneous expression, free from the control of reason" (page 75).

Quoting Jan Fairley on the Edinburgh Fringe Festival production of When Five Years Pass in 1989: "Friends and phantoms intermingle so that there is no distinction between reality and fantasy. We are drawn into a constantly shifting present which re-plays itself through the past" (pages 82-83).

Blood Wedding / Bodas de sangre (1931): 

". . . Lorca was acutely conscious, through personal experience and cultural background, that the individual finds himself in an uncomprehending universe and at the mercy of a hostile fate in the face of which his deepest aspirations come to nothing and very often prove to be the source of his own downfall.  His vision is, of course, pessimistic, suggesting a world without hope, but in that sense it is typical of the twentieth century and places Lorca firmly alongside such dramatists as [Eugene] O'Neill, Arthur Miller and Samuel Beckett" (page 112).   

Today's Rune: Initiation.

Gwynne Edwards' 'Lorca: Living in the Theatre' (2003). Part I

Gwynne Edwards, Lorca: Living in the Theatre. London and Chicago: Peter Owen, 2003.

I have found this to be very helpful as a guide to plays by Federico García Lorca (1898-1936), and for a serious delving into Spanish and modern theatre in general. Of course, written plays go back to the ancient Greeks and are a hallmark of literacy. Ancient theatrical performances foreshadow cinema, television, YouTube and God knows what else that's coming in the future. Maybe time travel.

In Lorca: Living in the Theatre, Edwards focuses on six major plays, each given its own chapter. They are:

The Public / El público (1930)
When Five Years Pass / Así que pasen cinco años (1931)
Blood Wedding / Bodas de sangre (1931) 
Yerma (1934)
Doña Rosita the Spinster / Doña Rosita la soltera o El lenguaje de las flores (1935)
The House of Bernarda Alba / La casa de Bernarda Alba (1936)

The Public was so far ahead of its time that Lorca quipped even then: "This is for the theatre years from now." It was not performed until the 1970s; professionally, not until the 1980s (see pages 42-43 and 55+).

Edwards gives a brief overview of Lorca's formative time spent at the Residencia de Estudiantes (pages 44-46), which sounds like an ideal place to soak up and exchange new ideas and energies. World class lecturers came through (from Albert Einstein to H. G. Wells) and fellow students included the likes of Luis Buñuel (1900-1983) and Salvador Dalí (1904-1989).  

Edwards thereby discusses Lorca's "magpie approach in all his work" (page 47) -- meaning he drew from eclectic sources and styles, including Surrealism and Classical Theatre, visual art, dance, Gypsy and Arabic music and poetry, cinema and Catholicism. He was on fire!  

(To be continued). 

Today's Rune: Strength. 

Federico García Lorca, 'Poet in Spain' (2017): Part I

¡Ved qué locura! ~ Isn't it wild? Last night, I finished reading Sarah Arvio's new Spanish-to-English translations in the bilingual Federico García Lorca, Poet in Spain (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2017). Spanish is on the left of the main body of text, English on the right. Fun and fascinating in the sun or under the moon or even by electric light, it is. 

Arvio has chosen representative samples of Lorca's Spanish poetry and his play, Bodas de sangre / Blood Wedding (1932). His New York City poems are not included.

Things that popped out at me follow. He makes it seems so simple.

Imagery in"Claro de reloj" / "Space in the Clock" -- "where the stars / struck the twelve floating / black numbers" (page 3).

First and last line of "Pan:" 
"¡Ved qué locura!" that Arvio translates as "How wild!" (pages 12-13). Machine translation: "See what madness!"

From "Serentata:"
Lolita lava su cuerp / con agua salobre y nardos (page 24) =
Lolita washes her body / with white nard and brine" (page 25).

What, pray tell (I thought upon first reading), is nardos / nard in this context? Apparently, Spikenard, incidentally a part of the heraldry of Pope Francis, a flowering plant that has a Phoenician trace as "Indian narde," originating in the Himalayas. 

Nardostachys jatamansi / Nard

Lorca likes the word and the image.  

From "Segungo aniversario" / "Second Anniversary:"

"Oh you alone  wandering / in the last room of the night" (pages 48-49).

This is cool, from "Nocturnos de la ventna" / "Window Nocturnes:"

"Los instantes heridos / por el reloj . . . pasaban" 
"The moments wounded / by the clock -- went by --"   (pages 70-71). 

I'll aim to wrap this up in the next post.

Today's Rune: The Mystery Rune. Illustration of nardo: Joseph Dalton Hooker (1817-1911) - Curtis's Botanical Magazine, Vol. 107, series 3, number 37, table 6564. Wiki Commons. 

  

'Helen of Troy' (2003)

John Kent Harrison, director. Helen of Troy (2003). A lot of mythical ground is covered in just under three hours. This made-for-cable version mixes together bits of Greek and Roman lore, lots of stuff not in Homer and some that is. Though a little silly at times, Helen of Troy gives us interesting angles on Helen and the Trojan War. 

Emphasis here is placed on Helen, Paris, Theseus, Cassandra, Hector, Agamemnon and his brother Menelaus. Odysseus (Ulysses) is on the edges, portrayed mostly as a jerk. Achilles is inexplicably depicted as a tall and bald brute. Goddesses appear (briefly) in the Judgment of Paris, a scene that seems thrown together like an afterthought but featuring Hera (Juno), Aphrodite (Venus) and Athena (Minerva).The sacrifice of Iphigenia is included. (Recent post on Iphigenia here). Troy is set too close to the sea, with little room for all the fighting that takes place in Homer's detailed descriptions.   

Despite various quibbles, Helen of Troy is still fun to watch. Is Helen the fairest of people, or the most clever, or both? Is Paris an idiot, or Hector? And what about poor Cassandra, always pushing for her brother Paris' death to no avail? 

The tale is told mainly from the point of view of Menelaus, with Agamemnon as a sometimes humorous villain.   

BBC One and Netflix have reportedly partnered to produce Troy: Fall of a City, an eight-part mini-series that will probably come out later this year. Given that this is one of the greatest stories ever told -- especially with all the ancient spin-offs and prequels to draw from -- I look forward to seeing what they've come up with for 21st century audiences. 

Today's Rune: Partnership. 

Michael Cacoyannis: 'Iphigenia' (1977)

Michael Cacoyannis' Iphigenia (1977) is a sharp film adaptation of Iphigenia in Aulis, the circa 407 B.C. play by Euripides (circa 480-406 B.C.). Chock full of psychological and existential crossroads, it has the additional benefit of having Irene Papas (born in 1926 -- now 91 years old) in the role of Clytemnestra -- the mother of Iphigenia and Orestes, wife of Agamemnon, and sister-in-law of Menelaus and Helen of Troy.   

In Iphigenia, so many things converge and collide, with just a handful of characters carrying the core drama. 

The thousand (small) ships of the Greeks are beached at Aulis, ready to carry the army across the Aegean Sea to attack Troy. The winds are listless and the army is restless and hungry. Agamemnon, the man they chose to lead them as overall king, orders food to be collected from the surrounding area. An archer kills a deer sacred to the goddess Artemis, who becomes pissed off and demands, according to augur-seer Calchas, the sacrifice of Agamemnon's oldest daughter, Iphigenia, before she'll kick the winds up again and let the army set sail for Troy.

Agamemnon is appalled, and considers, among other options, dissolving the army rather than going through with it. His brother Menelaus argues with him, back and forth. They are both portrayed with empathy, unlike Odysseus who is depicted as concerned only with getting the army to war against the Trojans as quickly as possible and at whatever cost. 

Eventually, Agamemnon has to trick Clytemnestra into bringing Iphigenia from, presumably, Mycenae to Aulis, so that she can be married to Achilles, commander of the Myrmidons. All hell breaks out when everyone learns the truth.

Some of the themes that jump loose include: the fickle nature of the gods, and fate, and life; the instability of power; the sacrifices demanded for "success;" the wildness of men primed for war and bloodlust (it's noted in the film that had Agamemnon not ordered the sacrifice as required by Artemis, the army might very well have turned on him and killed his whole family); and individual choice vs. fate. All of these themes convey a sense of urgency to the story, ensuring its continued popularity right into the 21st century. Plus, it's so damned absorbing, everything related to the Trojan War.

Today's Rune: Partnership.   

Barry Jenkins: 'Moonlight' (2016)

Barry Jenkins, Moonlight (2016), based on Tarell Alvin McCraney's In Moonlight Black Boys Look Blue (2003). Set mostly in Florida (plus Atlanta) and divided into three sections (Little, Chiron, Black), Moonlight, made on a relatively tiny budget, is intensely poetic, much more like an independent international film than a traditional American Hollywood movie. 

Moonlight can be approached from multiple angles, including race/ethnicity, poverty, sexual orientation, gender roles, cultural attitudes, existential philosophy and more. However, because so many of these have already been discussed elsewhere, here I'd like to consider another theme of the film: isolation vs. connection. 

Maybe because it's set along the Atlantic Ocean side of Florida, I think of Howard Thurman (1899-1981) when he was growing up just a little north of where Moonlight is mostly set, but during the Jim Crow era. In Moonlight, the main character (Chiron) is isolated by circumstance: his mother is a menace, school brutes are a menace, he is falling through the social cracks; with Howard Thurman, white society at large was the principal menace. 

In order to survive and function, let alone thrive, one must be connected to another person or other people. Howard's father died when he was very young, but, despite being poor, other relatives helped him enough that he could begin his own arc; for him, libraries (and librarians) became his bedrock for hope. Once he began reading in earnest, and with the kindness of strangers, he was able to become his own person, despite the obstacles of Jim Crow. Howard Thurman went on to become a mystical philosopher, education and civil rights leader, author and co-founder of the Church for the Fellowship of All Peoples in San Francisco in 1944, still in existence.

Chiron, in Moonlight, has to go it more alone, but it is mainly because of the intervention and kindness of characters like Juan, Teresa and Kevin that he can nurture a modest hope for his own arc. 

Social isolation is such a tragic, fearful position to be in that even small gestures of kindness are magnified. 

Still, given how much his school seems to neglect him, and his mother, I wish Chiron could have found refuge in a library, where he would have found additional support in the same way that Howard Thurman had. But he does, at least, find some connection, and that's a start.

Because the US (and much of the rest of the world) still has so many fearful hangups about sexual orientation, specifically, and sexuality in general, Moonlight is highly important not only as its own story, but for its ability to boost consciousness raising and awareness, especially unto those feeling isolated, letting all who see it know they are not alone in the world, no matter how restricted their initial life situation may be. It is a profound reminder, too, for those who are socially well-connected, to reach out and be kind, to welcome those who are feeling left out in the cold. 

Today's Rune: Partnership. 

Titus Maccius Plautus: Menaechmi ('The Identical Twins,' circa 200 B.C.)

Pompeii mural, Villa of Mysteries

Titus Maccius Plautus (circa 254-184 B.C.): Menaechmi (The Identical Twins, circa 200 B.C.).

In this Roman comedy, identical twins are engulfed in confusion, forming the basis for William Shakespeare's The Comedy of Errors (circa 1595, first published in 1623).

To make a long story short, in the set-up for Menaechmi, two identical twins are accidentally separated at age seven, and their father dies within days of this mishap. A grandfather renames the boy he can find the same name as the still missing (and presumed dead) boy, as an honor. Years later, the former, after traveling far and wide and always hoping to find his long lost twin brother, stumbles into said twin's town and a delicate situation involving Matrona (twin's wife) and Erotium (twin's paramour), exacerbated by various in-betweens. 

In the case of Plautus, adapting from a similar Greek play, his tale of identical twins works. The basic groundwork is laid for all sorts of similar -- and similarly ludicrous, comic, or horror-filled -- storylines.

Thinking you know someone and discovering an alien presence can be quite disconcerting. Hence, the ever-enduring fear and dread of zombies, vampires, alien or demonic possessions, clones and reprogrammed memories, pretender-imposters and dementia.  

Such Doppelgänger-type stories that have always impressed me include Nikolai Gogol's Нос / "The Nose" (1836) and Fyodor Dostoyevsky's Двойник / The Double (1846, 1866). All inspiration for The Twilight Zone, no doubt. 

Identical twins as a device have been exploited in many soap operas, a fine example being Stuart and Adam Chandler (David Canary) on All My Children. Great way to squeeze new arcs out of the same actors. The phantom twin can be haunting and unsettling, too: such as Elvis Aaron Presley's twin brother Jesse Garon, who was stillborn.

Today's Rune: Protection.  

Titus Maccius Plautus: 'Miles Gloriosus' / 'Major Blowhard' (205 B.C.)

Titus Maccius Plautus (circa 254-184 B.C.): Miles Gloriosus aka Major Blowhard (205 B.C.) 

"The new plays exposed the fledgling audience of Rome to the subtleties of Hellenistic humor: intricate plots, ironic twists of fate, clever slaves, stern fathers, heartsick lovers, pompous soldiers, savvy courtesans." ~ Plautus & Terrence: Five Comedies translated by Deena Berg and Douglas Parker (1999 A.D.), page vii.

Miles Gloriosus plays out like a combination of Mission Impossible and Three's Company. There are decoy dummies, rustic ruses, two-faced trickeries and a particularly crafty courtesan diligently dodging "the Braggart" by pretending to be a pair of identical twins -- a technique still employed in modern soap operas and telenovelas.

There's also the touch of the bizarre. For example, a slave peers into a courtyard while chasing an escaped monkey and espies Philo'comasium, the courtesan paramour of Pyrgo'polynices in the arms of "Nautikles" (in the Deena Berg translation). Hint: it's chasing the monkey that makes this such a strange set-up.

A major assist against Major Blowhard is rendered unto Philo'comasium by Acro'teleutium aka "Climax." Think Bond, James Bond with the name games. In the immortal words of Arnold Schwarzenegger, "they were just being playful." 

Human nature is more or less the same now as it was 2,200 years ago; only the class structure has changed. Enslaved characters would now be more likely to be represented by co-workers, friends and acquaintances. With some minor tweaking in the details of setting and technology, the plot still stands. We see Plautus' continued spectral presence every day. 

Why, a true Major Blowhard is even now running for president in one whacked-out country or another. As they said back in the day, Make Ephesus Great Again!

Today's Rune: Harvest.  

Molière's 'Tartuffe, or The Imposter' and the Texas Constitution

Banned Books and religious tests. The First Amendment. Molière's Tartuffe and the Texas Constitution. What the hell is all that about?

In 1664 in France, Molière wrote the play Tartuffe, ou l'Imposteur / Tartuffe, or The Imposter; it was staged once, then banned from the public eye for fear of disturbing the peace (that is to say, for questioning certain widely accepted practices among the ruling classes). In other words, it's a perfect topic of discussion during Banned Books Week.

Here's what one of Molière's powerful critics wrote about the playwright in 1664 (via this handy English translation extracted from the original French by Virginia Scott). 

According to this critic, Molière was: "A man, or rather a Demon clothed in flesh and dressed like a man . . . the most notable and impious freethinker who has ever lived, has had the wickedness and abomination to bring from his diabolical mind a play ready to be shown on the public stage to the derision of the Church . . . with the intention of rendering it ridiculous, contemptible, and odious. He would deserve, as a result of this sacrilegious and impious attack, to be tortured publicly as an example, and to be burned at the stake, in advance of the fires of Hell . . ."

~Pierre Roullé, curé de la paroisse Saint-Barthélémy, quoted in "The Quarrel of Tartuffe," Molière, Tartuffe (W. W. Norton Criticial Edition, 2009), page 66. 

(For an American context, the Salem Witch Trials began in 1692 -- 28 years later).

Tartuffe centers around the title character, a flim-flam man who exploits religious sentiments for his own gain as he plots to swindle his supporters out of their homes. In the 21st century, he's a cross between a megachurch televangelist and Big Donnie Trump. 

Thanks to Molière's satire (which by today's standards is very mild) and works like it -- right through Voltaire and the philosophes and the Constitution of the United States of America -- freedom of expression and the right to dissent are considered essential rights, not luxuries, let alone something to be tortured publicly and burned at the stake for.

Which brings me to something in the Texas Constitution that needs to be revised in this 21st century. The way it now stands both the wording and meaning is self-contradictory and completely illogical. The way it stands now, any lyin' Tartuffe can be elected to state office in Texas, but not so a single freethinking adult who admits that she or he does not necessarily believe in a Supreme Being.

Article I, Section 4 of the Texas Constitution (in place from 1876 to 2016+):

RELIGIOUS TESTS. No religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office, or public trust, in this State; nor shall any one be excluded from holding office on account of his religious sentiments, provided he acknowledge the existence of a Supreme Being.  

Did you catch the contradiction?  "No religious test shall be required . . . provided he acknowledge the existence of a Supreme Being." Having to "acknowledge the existence of a Supreme Being" IS a religious test, and a very restrictive one.

To prove that Texas does perpetuate a restrictive religious test, all we have to do is find one non-religious belief or one religious belief system that does not acknowledge or require a Supreme Being in order to function.

Let's suggest some:

Secular humanism
Agnosticism
Atheism
Animism
Taoism
Unitarianism
Universalism
Society of Friends/Quakers (specifically the Humanistic Society of Friends)
"Ground of being" (Paul Tillich)
Hinduism
Buddhism
Shintoism
Freethinking
Pantheism
Skepticism
Confucianism

Several of the above may believe in being, but not in "a [single] Supreme Being."

The United States Constitution dealt with this issue nearly one hundred years before the Lone Star's adoption of the 1876 Texas Constitution.

Article 6, Clause 3 of the United States Constitution: "no religious Test shall ever be required as a Qualification to any Office or public Trust under the United States."

Hence, even a casual reading of Tartuffe will help one realize that the Texas Constitution does require one's passing through a religious test in order to operate in any official capacity and that any hypocrite who pretends to believe in a Supreme Being simply by saying he/she does will be eligible for such offices, while a single reading of the US Constitution shows that the Texas Constitution is unsustainable as it now stands.

The core of Article I, Section 4 of the Texas Constitution should and must be changed to: "No religious test shall be required." Period. 

End of story.  Happy Banned Books Week. Viva Freedom of Expression and the right to dissent!

Today's Rune: Harvest.

Plautus: Amphytrion, The Pot of Gold, Casina

Three comedies by Titus Maccius Plautus (circa 254-184 B.C.): Amphytrion, The Pot of Gold, Casina. I read from this version: Plautus, Amphytryon and Two Other Plays, translated and edited by Lionel Casson, N.Y.: W. W. Norton & Company, 1971 paperback edition. 

After a quick go through these one comes away with a good idea just how much contemporary situation comedies rely on ancient plots, characters and themes. Anyone who's seen Three's Company (1977-1984) will find themselves at home. 

Amphytrion involves doubles and mistaken identity. The God Jove (Jupiter, Zeus) wants to spend a night with Alcmena while her husband Amphytrion is off fighting a war, so he masquerades as Amphytrion and posts his son Mercury (Hermes) to keep people away, masquerading as Sosia, a servant. The comedy revolves around thwarting all threatened disruptions to Jove's desire to have his way. The highlight is Mercury/Sosia keeping the "real" Sosia at bay.

The Pot of Gold is a ludicrous comedy showcasing human greed and tomfoolery. There are sneaky servants, idiotic rich men and cagey women. The coolest elements in this one are the house spirit and the Temple of Trust. The silliest aspect is having to see the great lengths to which miserly Euclio goes to safeguard his little pot of gold, never able to conquer his constant fear of losing it. 

Casina (aka The Lot-Drawers) is a more involved but still clownish elaboration involving a rich older married man who seeks access to a younger woman by arranging her marriage with a dependent who will share her but is simultaneously threatened by another suitor -- and so on. The wife and her servants see through all of it, and plot to refashion the endgame. 

If you've seen or know of The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975), Fawlty Towers (1975-1979), Three's Company (1977-1984), The Benny Hill Show (1955-1991) or Seinfeld (1989-1998), you know of Plautus.  

Finally, it is notable in these three plays that Plautus shows both empathy and fond sympathy for women. He aims his sharpest barbs of mockery and satire at the foibles and hubris of men high and low. 

Unfortunately, once Christians gained control of Rome and its territories, most of the comedies of Plautus were destroyed by some of the more puritanical and joyless zealots among them. Perhaps more of Plautus' 2,200-year-old plays will be revealed again in due time -- another pot of gold at the end of a future rainbow?

Today's Rune: Protection.   

Mallarmé

Wallace Fowlie, Mallarmé. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1970; originally published in 1953.

Wallace Fowlie (1908-1998) romps through Stéphane Mallarmé’s life (1842-1898) and writings, providing English translations and comparisons with interconnected poet-writers like Edgar Allan Poe and Charles Baudelaire along the way. Not neglected are Paul Verlaine, Arthur Rimbaud, Joris-Karl Huysmans, Marcel Proust, or Paul Valéry, nor Symbolist painters such as Odilon Redon, or composers Richard Wagner, Claude Debussy, Maurice Ravel, and others. 

Symbolism is oft the name given to Mallarmé’s “style,” which is related to all of the above.

I’ve chosen a handful of Fowlie’s quips that may or may not shed light on the creation of poems specifically and artistic impulses in general. It’s your call.  

“The poem is the surviving mystery.” (p. 188)

“The legend of Mallarmé’s life was the great work dreamed by him, the unique work destined to subsume all other works. But it was never composed.” (p. 194)

“A doubling of the consciousness is indispensable for the artist.” (p. 197)

“The struggle of the artist to create out of the chaos of experience is not unlike a tempest of nature. The mystery of all art is the seeming chance, a throw of dice . . . out of which an order of logic and construction is achieved.” (p. 218)

"Poetry is a game of risk, of magic and incantation. Its meaning is always hidden under the brilliance of its images and the unusualness of its analogies.” (p. 223)

“At some point or other in the fabrication of [a] poem the poet is helpless and useless before the gift of chance.” (p. 226)

“The experience of religion for Mallarmé seems to have been completely merged with that of art, and particularly joined with the experience of theatre and music .” (pp. 235-236)

“The dead move and have their being in the words they leave. To live is to endure dangers, to move from one disaster to another.” (p. 247)

“First as a man  [Mallarmé ] made himself different from other men. And then as a poet he celebrated language, the sanctity of language, as a new Orpheus.”  (p. 287)

And so adieu: a salute to Wallace Fowlie and Stéphane Mallarmé.

Today's Rune: Strength.

Pedro Almodóvar: Todo sobre mi madre / All About My Mother (1999)

Pedro Almodóvar's Todo sobre mi madre / All About My Mother (1999) won top film awards in Spain, France, the UK and the USA, and it was a financial success, too, with a relatively small budget and big payout.

It's mostly about women, gender identification, motherhood and existential choices. Set primarily in Madrid and Barcelona, with nods to earlier movies, plays (Tennessee Williams' A Streetcar Named Desire in particular), and other cultural touchstones. Very colorful in all senses of the word.

In All About My Mother (1999), taking a train back and forth between Madrid and Barcelona is a major plot point --  a "geographic." 

In the synchronicity department, a key date -- the only calendar date shown during the film -- is September 26. Without having any idea of this beforehand, I happened to watch it on September 26, 2014. The odds of this occurrence -- unless someone can better determine such things -- are one in 365.2425.

Today's Rune: The Mystery Rune. 

The Innocents

I hadn't seen The Innocents (1961) in quite a little while, but it stuck with me over many years. 

After another look just now, The Innocents turns out to be just as excellent as I remembered. 

Based on The Turn of the Screw, the 1898 book by Henry James and a later play version, the screenplay for this movie variation -- directed by Jack Clayton and starring Deborah Kerr -- was largely written by none other than Truman Capote. 

What I particularly love about this horror story is its creepy ambiguity. 

Is Miss Giddens (the governess, played by Kerr) possessed of a wild imagination, or are the sibling children Flora and Miles (Pamela Franklin and Martin Stephens) partially or wholly possessed by demonic spirits?

What's going on here? Is everybody crazy? Or are they being haunted by different aspects of their own infiltrated souls? 

The Innocents: black & white and seen all over. Well worth checking out this Hallowe'en season.  

 Today's Rune: Gateway.