The Horrors of Adolescence

Oh yeon-seo and song chae-yoon in a blood pledge

The South Korean education system has long been scrutinized for its fixation on perfection. There are countless articles, television dramas, and songs dedicated to exposing the flaws that are present in an education system – and society – that demands perfection. When government censorship of cinema ended after the ousting of South Korea’s military dictatorship, New Korean Wave cinema exploded; this gave a new generation of filmmakers the ability to publicly criticize the issues they saw with their country.

One of the most glaring criticisms of the South Korean education system and notable exports of New Korean Wave cinema came in the form of Whispering Corridors.

Whispering Corridors was released as a standalone film in 1998, and upon its massive success, has been followed by five sequels: Memento Mori (1999), Wishing Stairs (2003), Voice (2005), A Blood Pledge (2009), and The Humming (2021).

l-r: whispering corridors, memento mori, wishing stairs, voice, a blood pledge, the humming

Thematically, the films are similar but don’t act as direct sequels. Each film takes place at a different all-girls high school, focusing on the abuse suffered by the students at the hands of their teachers and classmates. The setting of the Whispering Corridors series being schools is fitting: according to a 2019 poll, nearly 34% of Korean middle and high school students contemplated suicide due to academic pressure.

An environment that drives children to consider such extremes is part of what inspired producer Lee Choon-yeon to write horror films set in high schools. In an interview, Lee stated, “I guess another motivation on my part was…my antagonism toward the way Korean education was going at the time…Korean secondary education was geared toward suppressing individuality and creativity.” Aside from being some of the first mainstream films to criticize the Korean education system, the Whispering Corridors series also feature taboo topics such as teen suicide and sexual assault.

rie young-jin and park ye-jin in memento mori

The central characters in each installment are, to some degree, outcasts: timid, artsy, intelligent young women who are taken advantage of and destroyed by a system rigged against them. Many of the films focus on how the school system ruins friendships and relationships in favour of molding the perfect student. In Memento Mori, students Shi-eun and Hyo-sin are harassed by their peers for being in a relationship; the social pressure of being in a same-sex relationships drives Shi-eun away, and Hyo-sin ultimately commits suicide. In Wishing Stairs, best friends Jin-sung and So-hee are torn apart when they compete against each other for a spot on a Russian ballet team. After Jin-sung makes a wish on the legendary wishing stairs, So-hee becomes paralyzed, and Jin-sung gets the coveted position. So-hee commits suicide after she realizes she can’t continue pursuing ballet, and her vengeful spirits torments Jin-sung and the other students.

Whispering Corridors speaks to the horrors of adolescence: the fear of not fitting in, the fear of rejection, the fear of not being perfect. And by the end of each film, we realize that the villain is not the dead girl haunting the school halls, the students who mercilessly bully each other, or even the teachers who encourage corporal punishment; rather, the villain is always the school, and the brutal education system that pushes the students over the edge. The education system is what ultimately robs the girls in the Whispering Corridors films of their adolescence and sometimes, their lives.

It’s easy to brush off Whispering Corridors as another run-of-the-mill film series featuring ghostly girls and overused horror cliches. Like any good horror film, there are brutal and creative deaths and gory scenes filled with blood and screams. But at its core, the films are thoughtful critiques of a burdensome and often horrific education system and a society that abandons those who don’t conform.

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Frankie Quinn is the resident scaredy cat who takes a particular interest in the intersection of feminism and queer culture in horror media.

The Ambiguous Horror of Female Sexuality

Much of the horror in The Innocents comes from the instability of Miss Giddens (Deborah Kerr), the new governess to Flora (Pamela Franklin) and Miles (Martin Stephens).

Shortly after her arrival at Bly manor, Miss Giddens comes to believe that the estate is haunted by Peter Quint (Peter Wyngarde), the former valet, and Miss Jessel (Clytie Jessop), the former governess. The two were having a sordid affair until their deaths on the estate—Quint by a drunken fall on the steps in the winter, and Miss Jessel by drowning herself in the lake—which scarred the children deeply.

Throughout the course of The Innocents, Miss Giddens is the only one who claims to see or hear any ghosts; she believes that the Flora and Miles can see their dead caregivers, but they lie about it every step of the way. Her belief is reinforced by the children’s increasingly suspicious behaviour, something that Miss Giddens takes as proof of the existence of ghosts.

In the afternoon sun, Flora and Miss Giddens sit on the gazebo at the shore of the lake. In the reeds of the lake, Miss Jessel stands in a black dress, staring back at them. She and Flora seem to be looking at each other, but when Miss Giddens asks who the woman is, Flora is puzzled; she doesn’t see anyone.

The children’s behaviour could be attributed not to ghosts, but to the further breaking of Miss Giddens’ fragile psyche: perhaps she is seeing figures and faces that aren’t there, hearing voices that don’t call to her. But Miss Giddens is firm in her belief that there is something wrong at Bly.

Miss Giddens, eyes wide with horror, concludes that the children are being possessed by Quint and Miss Jessel: “I can’t pretend to understand what its purpose is. I only know that it is happening. Something secretive and whispery…and indecent.”

Secrets, corruption, and wickedness are recurring themes throughout The Innocents. Miss Giddens is the daughter of a preacher, and remarks that the home she grew up in was very unlike Bly manor. It was a small, modest house: “Much too small to keep secrets,” she tells Miles. Contrary to her young wards who tell secrets and whisper everywhere they go, Miss Giddens grew up in the open, with her secrets and desires laid out for all to see.

Though Miss Giddens has an inherent disgust for all things obscene and wicked, she still finds herself drawn to them. She presses housekeeper Mrs. Grose (Megs Jenkins) for as much information on Quint and Miss Jessel’s trysts as she can, captivated by the indecency of it all; Miss Giddens becomes a woman obsessed.

Her obsession manifests in the form of preserving the children’s innocence and freeing them from what she perceives to be Quint and Miss Jessel’s unholy influences.

In what is the most jarring and blatantly sexual sequence in the film, Miss Giddens is further tormented by disembodied voices.

Miss Giddens is alone, sitting by the fire and praying with her Bible when Miss Jessel’s giggle suddenly cuts through the silence. She tries to ignore it, but the giggles become whispers between Quint and Miss Jessel—almost as if Miss Giddens is overhearing a secret conversation between the departed lovers—so she begins investigating.

With only a candlestick to light her way, Miss Giddens walks down the halls of the manor, checking every doorknob and window as the wind howls outside. She seems intent on finding where the voices are coming from. As she does, the voices and noises around her intensify.

Look at the children, Quint whispers.

The children are watching, Miss Jessel says.

Knock before you enter! Quint demands.

The voices overlap into a symphony of lust and anger and desperation. Miss Giddens is overwhelmed in her anxious state, running through the manor until she reaches her room. When she closes the door, the voices come to a halt, and she’s finally safe again.

In the climax of the film, Miss Giddens confronts Miles. She believes that he will be free from Quint’s influence when he admits the possession says Quint’s name aloud. Miles tells Miss Giddens that she’s crazy, and no one will believe what she says because at her core, she’s wicked: “A damned hussy, a damned dirty-minded hag!”

Miles’ declaration seems to frighten Miss Giddens just as much as the ghosts that she had encountered at Bly.

Miss Giddens, more than anything, values being seen as pure. And while upon first glance, she and Miss Jessel are polar opposites, they are both controlled by their underlying desires. Where Miss Jessel was controlled by her lust, Miss Giddens is controlled by her purity.

By the end of the film, it remains unclear whether the ghosts at Bly were real or not. The only clear part is that the children are further traumatized by the presence of Miss Giddens and her obsession with upholding some sort of innocence. Perhaps it was Miss Giddens’ misplaced affection that was her undoing; or it was her repression and delusion, the belief that she was always doing the right thing. That unrelenting belief is Miss Giddens’ downfall, and it proves to be the most dangerous part of The Innocents.

With the screenplay being written in part by Truman Capote, who emphasized the psychosexual undertone of the haunting, the ambiguity of The Innocents is as blatant as it is frightening.

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Frankie Quinn is the resident scaredy cat who takes a particular interest in the intersection of feminism and queer culture in horror media.

The Uncertainty of The Innocents

In gothic horror, female sexuality is something that is feared just as much as the spectres that haunt the darkened halls. Female protagonists of gothic horror are terrorized by their own secret desires and warped ideals, often manifesting in the form of hypersexual antagonists. Nowhere is this more apparent than in The Innocents, the 1961 film adaptation of The Turn of the Screw by Henry James.

The Innocents sees Miss Giddens (Deborah Kerr) become the new governess of Flora (Pamela Franklin) and Miles (Martin Stephens), two orphaned siblings under the care of their indifferent bachelor uncle (Michael Redgrave). Miss Giddens is a spinster and in her own words, inexperienced, but she is elated to accept the position after being swayed by the uncle’s charms and her love of children.

The horror of The Innocents begins quietly. Miss Giddens is, upon first glance, normal: she is caring and kind, and excited to be working at such a beautiful estate. When she arrives at Bly manor, she takes a leisurely walk through the garden. It’s there that she hears someone calling out for Flora. No one else hears it, and she never finds out who it was. This is brushed off and quickly forgotten, but it’s one of the first clues that Miss Giddens may not be of sound mind. Miss Giddens tosses and turns her first night at Bly, and most nights that follow. She is tormented by unseen forces even before the haunting unfolds.

In the garden, Miss Giddens tends to the flowers and cuts roses for a bouquet. Flora is nearby and unseen, singing:

We lay, my love and I

Beneath a weeping willow

But now alone I lie

And weep beside the tree

Singing “O Willow Waly”

By the tree that weeps with me

Singing “O Willow Waly”

Till my lover returns…

Suddenly, the insects stop buzzing, birds stop chirping, and Flora stops singing. Miss Giddens looks around the garden, puzzled at the silence. Her eyes wander around, then up. There, in the blinding light of the afternoon, Miss Giddens sees the first apparition: a man atop the tower in the garden, staring back down at her. She sees the man again that night while playing hide-and-seek with the children, and this time she’s able to describe him clearly to housekeeper Mrs. Grose (Megs Jenkins): a “handsome, obscene” man with “the hardest, coldest” eyes. Mrs. Grose knows the man she speaks of, but it’s impossible that Miss Giddens saw him. The man is Peter Quint (Peter Wyngarde), the uncle’s former valet. And he’s dead.

Quint and the former governess, Miss Jessel (Clytie Jessop) were having a torrid, abusive love affair. Flora and Miles, having been neglected by their uncle, took kindly to them, but were traumatized after their deaths. Quint died on the steps of the manor after a drunken slip and fall on a winter night, and was found by Miles. Miss Jessel died soon after – apparently of a broken heart – but it’s later confirmed that she died “of wickedness” and drowned herself in the estate’s lake. What alarms Miss Giddens most is that according to Mrs. Grose, they didn’t care what anyone, especially the children, saw; it’s alluded to that the children witnessed Miss Jessel and Quint’s inappropriate sexual behaviour during their affair. The revelation haunts Miss Giddens, and she becomes convinced that the children are being overtaken by the spirits of their dead caretakers. Her paranoia goes into overdrive.

Flora and Miles begin The Innocents as harmless figures, forgotten children cast aside by their only living family. At times, the children are just that: children. But as the film progresses, they become increasingly disturbing. Their dialogue is just ambiguous enough for Miss Giddens to cast doubt upon them, leaving the intent of their words and actions up to interpretation. Flora watches a spider eat a butterfly trapped in a web, toying with its wings as it struggles; Miles puts Miss Giddens in a headlock during their game of hide-and-seek and refuses to let her go, reveling in her discomfort.

Later, when the children perform an impromptu play for Miss Giddens and Mrs. Grose, Miles recites a poem. He walks, lit by candlelight, to the same spot where Quint was seen by Miss Giddens. The poem makes it seem as though Miles is addressing Quint directly, which solidifies the possession in Miss Giddens’ mind.

What shall I say when his feet enter softly, leaving the marks of his grave on my floor?

Enter, my lord. Come from your prison.

Come from your grave, for the moon is arisen.

Welcome, my lord.

The connection between Miles and Miss Giddens is at best, dubious; at worst, it is a manifestation of a psychosexually disturbed woman’s need to preserve purity. From the beginning, Miss Giddens is unnervingly obsessed with protecting Flora and Miles from what she sees as corrupting influences, namely the spirits of Miss Jessel and Quint. She goes to great lengths to protect “the innocents”, but in the end, she harms them both in irreversible ways. It remains unclear whether or not the ghosts in this story are real, whether Miss Giddens’ sanity is slipping, or whether the children are traumatized from some form of abuse suffered at the hands of Miss Jessel and Quint. Maybe it’s a combination of some sort. There is no correct answer, but what remains most horrifying about The Innocents is that it exists within a certain ambiguity where no definitive answer is any less disturbing than the last.

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Frankie Quinn is the resident scaredy cat who takes a particular interest in the intersection of feminism and queer culture in horror media.