Incidentally, the ghost genre has probably flourished more on Japanese soil than anywhere else. In fact, it is probably indicative that the ghost story picture in Europe or this country more often serves as the vehicle for comedy rather than horror – this is evident in the many films which have actually bee produced in the continent. The author of a ghost story can of course afford to merely suggest phantoms, but audiences want a more tangible embodiment of their deepest fears. Amnebar, director of ‘The Others’ therefore deserves praise on his inventive interpretation of a modern horror film.
The great advantage of the cinema is undoubtedly the huge area of darkness one gets on the screen, for a horror director this is the perfect atmosphere for one to view a fabulously scary film where the vast shadows produced allow the audience to imagine the worst. Similar to fairy stories, ghost stories, it seems, must always follow familiar structures and rhythms. The real reason these old favourite techniques still never fail to work is of course that no matter how technology advances and spiritually bereft our age may be, there is still a part of us all that is secretly afraid of the dark at the top of the stairs.
In us all also is the pleasure we receive from films that focus our attention to the familiar without impairing it. It has been argued that modern horror films, however, are too reliant on these common components and are therefore ‘saturated’ genres, as the audience is over-familiar with the repertoire of elements and all their possible deviations. Cleverly though, instead of abandoning the authentic factors of the ‘horror’ genre, producers have recently over played its conventions in order to embrace a new age of audience. Whilst audiences have been re-generated over decades of cinema they are still very much experiencing a similar roller coaster ride in terms of the feelings aroused by horror films. The difference, however, is that whilst the audience are willing participants they only think they know what to expect - thrilling them even more. This is true in ‘The Others’ - a perfect film for a modern audience. With a discerning twist of originality, assumptions may not always be true and expectations will certainly be defied.
To purposely initiate the sense of ‘The Others’ being a pure ghost story so to speak, the producer seems to open the film with a sequence of thin pencil line drawings in order of not only initiating the genre of the film, but, the era of the film. These etchings are blatantly a direct link to Victorian times as they are reminiscent of what one may expect a novel to include of that era. The black and ivory pencil lines serve a deeper significance even more so as they, in actuality, provide clues as to the main narrative thread of the story, depicting an insight into the key scenes of the film (and a very stereotypical one at that.) Another factor of this film that indicates that the director is attempting to produce a film from the very roots of the ‘horror’ genre is that the film relies heavily upon narrative rather than special effects. This is of course another attempt by Amenabar to defy the plot of films that have been recently released, and to increase the probability of ‘The Others’ being contrasted to the likes of the classics, ‘Dracula’ and ‘Frankenstein’ rather than ‘Scream’.
Amenabar’s aim is to delight in psychologically thrilling his audience rather than relishing the fact that he has overloaded them visually with excessive gore, deranged slashers or ludicrously lavish special effects and so he strives to make this clear.
Soon after an etching of an isolated mansion slowly transforms itself into a looming camera shot of a real, stereotypically secluded residence, the audience are unnerved by an unexpected and carefully edited shrill scream - the movie holds the audience in its clutches from this very opening moment. This is of course an extreme comparison to the mellow, child-like composition that previously accompanies the series of pencil drawings; Amenabar is immediately successful in making the audience uneasy with the use of juxtaposing sounds. And so he continues to do this as the support from music and a fusion of mysterious noises assist in the separation of prolonged silence, re-asserting the audience’s suspense, with the constant creaking of doors and the impending doom represented within every sequence of heavy footsteps. Heavy monotones and high-pitched eerie chords establish gloom and tension whilst cranking up the brooding menace and creating a moody and deeply atmospheric tone, they work in sheer harmony with the careful camera cuts.
The camera invites us directly into the film set - just like a friend, it seems. The camera is an ambassador of the director and his intentions, as it appears to act as the audience’s eye, willing them to observe everything and anything for this story, is one that requires an attentive and inquisitive viewer. In contrast to this though, the way in which the camera flows and sweeps up and down, situating us centrally within the house rather than as voyeurs, disorientates the audience as a whole, almost to the extent that we completely empathise with Grace’s confusion. This is perhaps another message from the producer, suggesting to us that we mustn’t begin gathering conclusions yet. Credited for Amenabar’s outstanding cinematography is Javier Aguirresarobe; he films his characters as if he is doing so internally. Grace’s psychological state is constantly being reflected through a range of camera shots, this idea of barriers that we constantly see Nicole Kidman’s character being seemingly crushed and trapped by: in cells, doorways, through windowpanes, between curtains, through stairway banisters, behind grated gates – she is imprisoned in her own mind. Each physical obstruction is laden in deeper meaning we learn, as the film progresses, and Grace diminishes emotionally. The subtlety of Amenabar’s cinematography is what detaches ‘The Others’ from the recent Hollywood movie-making trends. The fact that the producer has opted to use old-fashioned methods of scaring the audience has allowed this film to be one of the few understated horror films. Shock effects are used sparingly but effectively; demonstrating that Amenabar has gone for the pervasive, enfeeble unshakeable creepiness that saturates the film. Also done in an old-fashioned manner are the scene changes as fade-outs and slow dissolves are used to mirror the manner of movies of an earlier era. It achieves a rare and genuine air of menace that gradually builds an atmosphere of unease, without the ostentation of modern, flashy technology and therefore this film is one that manages to be imaginative and original.
Carefully calculated freeze shots of the obscured old house are occasionally slotted in between scenes as a reminder of the sheer size and location of this fundamental factor of the film. Stereotypically, it is situated on a fog-shrouded island - antiquated and alone, the premise looks forgotten as it sits in the 1940s setting. This period is of course typical to the creepy horror that the producer mimicked at the beginning of the film, immediately the audience is given a rich sense of history and tradition as this is infused within the motionless camera shots. The stately, cavernous old mansion is engulfed in an atmosphere of gloom and fog in the isolation of England’s Jersey Islands, just after World War two; a great anticipation of supernatural menace is eminently present. The fact that the connection between the house and its surroundings has been severed is a daunting thought to the audience and later we learn the deeper significance of this dramatic detachment. As the audience begin to relate this to the children’s medical condition, (where they are prevented from embracing the outside world), Grace’s relationship with her husband and, then, eventually, the conclusion of the film. We learn through expertly filmed shots that the house is large enough to contain the whole film, with the camera setting this perspective, the audience also gain an extreme sense of claustrophobia that is worked upon throughout the film. Amenabar wants us to feel cribbed, cabined and confined just like Grace, to make us empathise with her distress.
Although the house is personified and justified as an actual character within the film it is in fact the actors within and around the house that establish the milieu of the premise. What is amazing is the actual insignificance of the central characters in comparison to the mansion, however, that is ultimately the only stable thing within the film. A factor of the house, which works particularly well in conjunction with certain characters, is the stairs – probably the most symbolic aspect of the restricted setting, they not only separate the different levels of the house but also ultimately segregate the world of the living and the dead, ‘the others’. Another example of this is where Ann is at the top of the stairs - this is a symbolic reference to her and her family’s position in limbo, this also relates back to one of the main themes running throughout the film, religion. All this is what allows the stairs to be the beholder of the audience’s mystery and intrigue as they contemplate what is at the top of them. In coincidence with the simplistic twines of Amenabar’s ‘The Others’, he again uses this tone in the sense that he opts for furnishing the large rooms of the mansion barely and sparsely. Instead of relying on effects or elegant locations, the director again excels his elf in originality as he pares the entire setting down to its bare bones. Again, this is another link back to gothic traditions as he reminds us just how unsettling a long, dark corridor or a room full of furniture can be.
Alarmingly isolating and intimidating.
Amenabar reinforces the house as a central character with many references to it from the characters. Remarks from the former residents of the house who have now returned as servants for Grace and her children concrete the house’s validity as a character as we now learn of its own history. Comments such as ‘a house like this’ confirm to the audience that without ‘this house’ the servants do not appear and so the narrative stops. Another element attached to the centrality of the house is portrayed in the comment ‘this house means a lot to us’. The audience begins to realise that Grace is, of course, singled out as the servants and the house share something and she does not – a bond. This poses even further angst among the audience as we see Nicole Kidman’s character being pushed further towards the outside world, as she has already earlier referred to her home as being ‘less than ideal’ ironically, there appears to be a colossal difference between the servants and Grace. The producer continues to use devices to constantly insure he is destroying any easiness we may have about this dysfunctional family. He purposely uses the children as bate to our next outbreak of suspense as he separates them, the audience are aware intuitively that this is not a good idea particularly as there has been mention of ghosts. It is inevitable then that when we recognise these elements they are like signposts that take us on a detour, letting us have a sneak peak of the final destination. Amenabar follows this division by using the more vulnerable of the two to convey the insignificance of him compared to his surroundings. Alone - he is almost swallowed by the dark and choking in his fear. This dominates the scene as the director is successful at portraying the idea of being overwhelmed by things, whether that be issues like morality and religion or, as in this case, something material, this is again another reference to a gothic theme.
As the audience witnesses the producer enhancing the setting with the unmistakably fearful reactions of the characters, Amenabar skilfully manipulates the location with an extremely indicative variation of light forms. Lighting plays a particularly immense role in this film because of the period the film is based upon. The entire film has a ‘grainy’ quality that puts the audience in mind of the period of this traditional ghost story. It is perfectly justifiable to say that visually ‘The Others’ is a masterpiece. Imaginative and innovative lighting is beautifully orchestrated, creating some captivating visual ambience. With a fantastic use of low light and shadow there is a subtle juxtaposition of light and shadow. Linking in with the co-existence of life and death, which we realise, has been gradually hinted at by a symphony of light and shadow (all part of Amenabar’s ingenious use of exposition) through the course of the film. The director stimulates the audience’s imagination again by not showing us the things that are lurking in the dark; instead, we are encouraged to conjure up dark things that live in our subconscious. The forms of light that are used all seem to suppress the people indoors as they are deprived of sunlight, or, any natural light for that matter. The ever-present fog, which smothers the house, is the only true natural form of light that is present, this is clearly a recurring theme in horror as it allows us glimpses but prevents clear sight and therefore is more effective than total darkness. As the lighting is always sombre and dusky this adds to the film’s cold and gloomy feel and also encourages the whole sense of claustrophobia that is dominant throughout the film. The tenuous link to ‘fatal flaw’ - central to all gothic horror - is established once the audience learn of the children’s medical condition. Even the minor change of a curtain being opened is of course considered lethal as the audience know the children have this allergy to light, this is a clever device which allows the director even more an opportunity to heighten all the more extreme examples of horror in the story. Scared and alarmed at the prospect of the children’s lives being jeopardised, we are then conditioned to look for instances of where the flaw may be exploited or played upon by either the characters or, in most cases, the filmmaker. Amenabar in his personal style manages, again, to reverse the traditions of a regular ghost story, where more often than not dark is the most unsettling in comparison to daylight. Because of the overall gloom of the house, the instances whereby there is strong light coming from behind doors makes us uneasy – this reversal echoes the key twist in the film again – the ‘real’ people are haunting the ghosts. Defying the light and dark concept truly, the director within ‘The Others’ infuses every aspect of the film with a sense of dread of the unknown where nowhere is a ‘safe place’.
The co-existence of various elements is a favourite device of Amenabar’s particularly within lighting as it has the overwhelming power of being extremely indicative in relation to the character states and the themes running throughout the film. The audience is met with this at many times within the film such as the flickering candlelight that seems to surround Grace. The little light that is allowed to penetrate always holds some sort of truth, this is of course what Grace needs so she can perceive what is happening in the world surrounding her. Her life is, of course, though, one of self-deception and therefore the candlelight that entraps her as the central character is diversely different to the source of light that encircles the children. This is a conspicuous connection to the playfully pure honesty of the children and Grace’s denial; whilst the children play, Grace is having a nervous breakdown. The associations with light and dark – life and death, mean that because the house is preceded by darkness, the audience is given an early clue to the twist within the film. The fact that darkness conducts them rather than them leaving darkness as a consequence is what prevents the characters from seeming malevolent. The use of light in relation to Nicole Kidman’s character Grace is extremely effective; a perfect example of this is where the audience perceives Grace’s reflection in the window. Applied as another clue to the ethereal quality of her existence, she looks ghostly in the window as light streams through the window and reflects off her cheekbones, giving her the look of a reed-slender porcelain figure.
The characters alone, without the support from setting, sound and lighting, are potent enough to create the whole sense of the story with their amazing acting abilities. Each actor is immensely creditable for the film’s success. Cast to perfection; firstly, is the glacial, neurotic and creepily intensive Grace. As the central human character within the film, (when discarding the house’s role) Nicole Kidman fits Amenabar’s creation ideally. Appearing painfully thin in this film, her gaunt appearance works to the film’s advantage, appearing fragile, her bloodshot eyes also appear all the more harrowing in contrast with her flawless ivory skin. Her wardrobe consists of deep uniform reds, greens and blues, these all create the illusion that her neck and face is finely brushed china, she is a delicate good and to be treated with care. Disguising her underlying concern and anxiety by directing Kidman to seem icy and matter-of-fact (intensely, unquestioningly Catholic), Amenabar also attempts to hide Grace’s fear and agitation behind her proper English and Catholic persona. Her intrepidity masks a deeply disturbed neurotic. She is a skittish woman who is persistent in controlling her household and offspring in a military-like fashion. Manipulative, she uses her faith and the bible to terrify her children into obedience, completely lacking any sensitivity towards what her children may oppositely believe. Grace’s attempts at being a sufficiently exemplary mother cannot be mistaken, however, yet her ways of conveying her love for her young can be criticised, along with her harshness in disciplining them. Her relationships with both children at times don’t appear to be equal as she seems to favour her son as he is the youngest, whereas her daughter, Ann, is the inquisitive elder who seems to take pleasure in disturbing her mother. With her brittle appearance, Grace’s coldness is palpable and even her kindness seems measured. The audience is particularly observant to Grace as her divergent behaviour provokes the audience to believe there is something deeper, something unknown - something uncanny. Allusions to her past erratic behaviour position her somewhere between scared waif and irrational hysteria. In a sense, the film is like a personal journey - a winding road that the audience follows, as does Grace, as she psychologically deteriorates with the final destination being the breakdown as she discovers the truth. By the end of the film, Grace is aware of many things, including the fact that there is much she is oblivious to. Kidman plays her role with the perfect amount of fear and intensity that is necessary for her character to have to make the film both thrilling and suspenseful. Although Grace puts on a brave face for her children, the audience still senses her apprehension. Her hands persistently fidget whilst her eyes constantly follow the creaking ceilings or mysteriously opening doors. She has no inner peace it seems, as she always appears perturbed. All these psychological ambiguities cause the audience to question – is she mad? As a professional, Kidman’s skills and charismatic screen presence are what Amenabar relies on to unveil the circumstances surrounding her fate through exposition. Kidman profoundly allows the audience to internalise the character’s pain, dread and horror.
Shielded from the outside world by their highly-strung mother, the children live sheltered lives and yet even though they live under the same roof, the director gives us a complete juxtaposition in terms of their personalities. Alakina Mann plays a rather agonising daughter and taunting sister combined. Possessing an aggregation of curiosity and stubborn pride, she is a constant thorn in her mother’s side. As an actor, this girl is chillingly effective with a genuine aura about her, she is the older sibling thus she automatically has the leverage over him and uses this cruelly as she enjoys frightening her younger brother; she is rebellious and precocious. In comparison to Ann, James Bentley whose character, Nicholas, is blatantly the complete antithesis of his sister is vulnerable and meek. With his large, bewildered eyes that swim in a pasty-white face, he is the perfect mirror of the audience’s increasing anxiety at the supernatural incidents.
Another character which forms a bond with the children is Mrs Mills, an invisibly intrusive woman who is assumed to be a servant, along with Mr Tuttle and Lydia as they appear on the fog shrouded grounds of the premise at the beginning of the film. She has just the right mixture of down-to-earth common sense and ominous command as her calm demeanour suggests, she is the one in control, which is contrary as we consider how hard Grace strives to be in control. The real contrast between Mrs Mills and Grace is established almost immediately as the light-hearted comment about the walls sprouting legs from Mrs Mills is abruptly dismissed by Grace’s closing of the curtains at that point which is symbolic, puncturing her imminent lifting of the heavy mood. Amenabar is already here conveying her long held acceptance of their fate, which Grace is oblivious to. It is interesting that once Mrs Mills finally reveals her true feelings about the merging dead and the living worlds, that her hair has changed considerably, she has deterred from the tidy, bun-sporting servant to the long, unkempt haired ‘mad woman in the attic’ figure. With Mills and Tuttle, we are presented with two characters whose shared intentions are not quite clear. With vague references to impending ‘changes’ they exchange, they obviously know the key to the story but are they retaining it for good or evil? This confusion over moral stance is what causes the audience to feel uneasy with their presence, but why is this? Is it that the director intentionally arouses our sympathy and directs it towards Grace and the children and like the film’s links to gothic traditions, like Frankenstein, Amenabar tempts us to think the servants are a malevolent presence? Again, another stock element of gothic horror is applied to the film in terms of the disadvantaged, imperfect character, Lydia. Like most characters, she has an affliction. There are signs that she will play an important role within the film at some point, a significant moment within the film to support this, is where Mrs Mills is reluctant to discuss with Grace how Lydia became mute. With her wide eyes, she seems genuinely shocked and perpetually scared. She is prominently weaker than the others as Amenabar directs her to have slouched posture and uses her body language to convey her character as well as drawing focus open her eyes as a substitute for her loss of speech.
Two other more minor characters which play small but important parts are one of the mysterious ‘intruders’, Victor, and Charles, the dear husband and father of Grace and the children. Victor is responsible for the beginning of the traditional ghostly goings on, referring back to the bareness of the house; it is what we don’t see that terrifies us. Again, Nicholas is the audience's mirror as his sister wills him to see Victor; he is in the same position as us as he can’t and doesn’t want to see ‘Victor’. The scene is incredibly full of tension as the audience anticipates the suspense being broken, a figure, but nothing comes. Because we don’t actually see ‘Victor’ it is this that makes him a ghost to us, as we can’t define him, we can’t concrete what he is because we are not sure whom or what he is yet. Dissimilarly, Charles enters the film in a way that, similar to his detached behaviour leads us directly to realise that he is, in fact, a ghost. Amenabar is cleverly attentive to always diverting the audience’s mind from what they may be starting to figure out and again he is successful here as he distracts us from the fact that Grace might actually be a ghost as well.
The film revolves around a number of key themes, the most potent concept of the film are the links to the key themes in Victorian gothic novels (‘Dracula’, ‘Frankenstein’) – recognition in overall theme of things in relation to God, maintaining a sense of who we are. In ‘Dracula’ there is a distinct link to God where he tries to challenge God and the character is ultimately destroyed because of it, and similarly in ‘Frankenstein’ the doctor tries to snatch God’s role and is also ruined as a consequence. In ‘The Others’, Kidman’s character attempts to ‘cheat’ God as she doesn’t recognise her existence, or lack of it until the end. Like many ghost stories, Amenabar has depended on denial in terms of the whole construction of Kidman’s character, her inability as a dead person to accept her fate is what makes the film. It is an intriguing concept to think that although our bodies crumble and decay, our spirits seem to refuse what’s happened to them. Despite being dead from the start, Grace is in conclusion destroyed psychologically by the comprehension that she has murdered her children and committed suicide – she has committed the ultimate crime against God. Religion therefore plays an immensely large role in the film, particularly when the links to gothic horror are taken into consideration. There are many references to religion in the children’s lesson, again, we are directed to ‘Dracula’, which is an obviously centrally religious text. This genuinely chilling climax and final revelations of why Grace and her children were haunted is grimly satisfying.
Not only does this film encircle itself around religion, but also, it is equally a film about parenting as it is about the supernatural. Similar to ‘The Sixth Sense’, this ghost story serves as a metaphor for parenting. Grace has tried to bury herself so far into the dogmatic and particulars of her religion that she’s lost touch with it. So much so that she is incapable of learning that her children don’t necessarily believe all that she teaches them. Her children admit that they don’t buy the bible stories to Mrs Mills, an unlikely confidante, telling her that they do not dare tell their mother, lest they be chastised for being hell-bound. Grace is a thoughtless woman, in terms of she uses mindless religious teachings and makes her children memorise scriptures for punishment, rather than communicating with them as a parent. Ironically, she stresses greatly about how her children must become ‘good’ Christians otherwise they will go to hell and insists they must never do any wrong. This is after what has happened though after all and when they are made to imagine hell, a place of constant pain, in theory that’s where Grace should be at that precise moment. As the audience learns the outcome of the film it is almost as if Amenabar was ridiculing Grace’s oblivion, as she overtly believes like demons and angels, life and death are completely separate.
Virtually nothing in the film is ‘known’. It isn’t known whether or not Grace’s husband is coming home from the war neither do the audience have a clue about where the mysterious servants have come from and who they are for that matter. It isn’t even proven that the children actually do have the allergy to light. Even the validity of Grace’s faith is questionable as Ann has an incorrect knowledge of the notion of Limbo; then in larger ways, when she realises that God has indeed allowed the world of the dead to merge with the world of the living. None of these unknowns deter the viewer’s pleasure however, and, the only relevance they have to the audience actually allows the audience’s suspense to heighten even further. With all these themes and the way of which Amenabar has ingeniously twisted the traditional roots of the authentic ghost story. Also, having manipulated any normality’s that people have viewed before to an extent where ‘The Others’ is worthy of being named one of the most original and innovative films ever produced within its genre type, for many years to come.
