THE TURN OF THE SCREW is, of course, another version of the classic ghost story written by American author Henry James. This one is produced by Dan Curtis as one of the many TV movie adaptations of classic horror literature that he turned out, and the screenplay was by sci-fi writer William F. Nolan. It's very different in tone to the classic film version of the story, THE INNOCENTS, but no less interesting. Lynn Redgrave plays the repressed nanny who becomes to believe that there's something very wrong about the children in her care. The cast do a fine job here, particularly the child actors for whom the material must have been different, and there's an appropriate atmosphere of regret and nostalgia which sees film through some of the slower moments. Redgrave does worried very well, and for once the low key nature of the production works.

THE TURN OF THE SCREW was a natural for Dan Curtis: his groundbreaking soap opera DARK SHADOWS was essentially spawned by the Henry James story; the parallels are obvious. What makes THE TURN OF THE SCREW Scary-Plus are Curtis's patented touches: the jolting glimpses of figures believed to be dead standing outside in the darkness, staring in at the governess, Jane Cubberly (Lynn Redgrave), the sight(s) punctuated by thunderclaps or the patented Robert Cobert score. It was great to see the Eternally Beautiful Kathryn Leigh Scott as the sinister apparition, "Miss Jessel." The scenes of her hovering near the pond are every bit as chilling as the same scenes in the Jack Clayton version, THE INNOCENTS. Says Jane in the narration: "She was like a great black bird of prey hovering there. A dead thing returned." And let's not forget the two kids, who manage to more than hold their own with the likes of Miss Redgrave and the other adult cast members. Says the boy, Miles (who blinds and then gleefully kills a frog): "Will evil be good and good evil?" "Death is as real as life," he adds: "Sometimes I frighten myself..." During a recital, he refers to "those of us who love the darkness." "You talk of saving me," he chides Jane: "But tell me who, dear lady, is to save YOU...?" To some (especially those whose television upbringings have left them with short attention spans), THE TURN OF THE SCREW may seem sedate, but it nonetheless drips with lingering Menace. Done in the patented Dan Curtis fashion, it's yet another of television's high points.

*** POSSIBLE SPOILERS ***Perhaps its unfair to rate and comment on this as I haven't seen this since its original release some thirty years ago. However I remember being very affected by it, so much so that it sent me to the novella with which I promptly became somewhat obsessed. From what I recall (Quint was very vivid, as was Miles), however, I believe this is probably a heavy-handed version of the great James story, which is tremendously ambiguous and designed (as James himself said) "to catch those not easily caught." James wrote an unconventional "ghost/horror" story using the motif of the supernatural to drive his point home. I distinctly remember the very dramatic ending of this Redgrave version (note: her father Michael appeared as the Uncle in The Innocents), it is not about possession or spirits at all. That is far too literal and misses James' meaning entirely. That said, I believe The Innocents, another version mentioned by other reviewers, released in 1961 starring Deborah Kerr, is a more faithful adaptation, but still too heavy-handed in the depiction of the children and what is (or is not) happening. Good as Kerr is, she is too old for the role and brings her own natural elegance and poise which is in stark contrast to the governess's increasing, hyper-paranoia. So while I will always be grateful for this Dan Curtis version which impressed me so much as a kid (and why I rate it a 6), it led me to Henry James and the hope that someday someone will make a proper adaptation of a truly chilling tale.

Surprisingly effective made-for-TV adaptation of Henry James' classic ghost story "The Turn Of The Screw" which had already spawned an acclaimed cinematic version in Jack Clayton's THE INNOCENTS (1961); for the record, I am also familiar with THE NIGHTCOMERS (1972), a serviceable prequel written originally for the screen. Prior to this, I had checked out the following TV movies from director Curtis: THE STRANGE CASE OF DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE (1968; which he only produced), THE NIGHT STALKER (1971), THE NIGHT STRANGLER (1972), Dracula (1973), THE NORLISS TAPES (1973) and TRILOGY OF TERROR (1975), and this generally measures up to them quality-wise. Anyway, to get back to the film at hand: having watched THE NIGHTCOMERS in 2004 (as part of a Marlon Brando tribute) and THE INNOCENTS in 2005 (while studying in Hollywood) – that is to say, not too long ago – I knew more or less what to expect from the plot; of course, being the early days of TV/video technology, the alternately grainy and flat look emerges as its weakest element and cannot hope to challenge Freddie Francis' renowned chiaroscuro work on the 1961 film version. Incidentally, I opted to watch this now as an extension of my brief tribute to Natasha Richardson – since it stars her aunt, Lynn Redgrave; I have also acquired THE HOTEL NEW HAMPSHIRE (1984) – based on another popular novel, by John Irving – which, in its turn, was directed by her father i.e. Tony Richardson. Redgrave is a fitting replacement for Deborah Kerr – managing a quiet fortitude in her dealings with the mansion's absentee landlord, the kids (who are anything but innocent, and the boy rather overbearing!) and even the apparitions (the valet and his lover/preceding governess, resuming their corrupting influence on the children). Probably sticking rigorously to the source material, William F. Nolan's script comes across as too literary and the film itself decidedly overlong at 118 minutes; similarly, Curtis' approach is atypically reserved most of the time – with the manifestations themselves well-handled but hardly chilling…apart from the very last sequence, which then brings the film to an abrupt close! While I readily admit to being wary of remakes – and, when badly done, they are certainly redundant – I have grown tolerant of those emanating from other media (mind you, the 1970s was pretty much the Golden Age of TV); with this in mind, I look forward now to Dan Curtis' own version of FRANKENSTEIN (1973) despite being the nth rendition of the Mary Shelley tale that I would be sampling