Alternate Best Supporting Actor 1961: Martin Stephens in The Innocents

Martin Stephens did not receive an Oscar nomination for portraying Miles in The Innocents. 

The Innocents is the masterful telling of the tale of a new governess Miss Giddens (Deborah Kerr) dealing with unexpected horrors as she attempts to take care of two orphaned children on a palatial estate. 

Martin Stephens, having previously played a creepy kid in Village of the Damned, takes upon a greater challenge here than that of an inhumane alien spawn in the character of Miles, one of the two children along with his younger sister Flora (Pamela Franklin). Stephens comes into the film as Miles has left school, in fact, expelled, and is returning home. Right from the start it is hard to feel fully comfortable with Miles as performed by Stephens, as he steps off the train with a grin of sheer jubilation. Stephens just seems too content for any person, particularly not a boy who was just kicked off a school. And you see the effectiveness of his performance by attributing qualities of the "innocent" that aren't innocent, in an innocent-seeming way but also not. It's a fundamental trick of this performance that is essential to its way of getting under your skin. Taking his first moment of complementing Kerr's Giddens with flattery, which if spoken with a bit more of naivety or simple surface could seem just like a cute moment of a child pretending to be an adult. Stephens though presents it differently from that though and it is with the confidence he speaks that there is this maturity of the flattery, flattery that in a moment seems genuine, and not with innocence, which in a moment creates a less pleasant quality within the moment. Although notable Stephens doesn't give away the game too early, as a little strange but maybe one can accept it as just a bit more precocious.

We do have what would seem like a bit of a respite from the feeling of uneasiness as the children begin to play, and while I wouldn't say Stephens exactly seems immediately normal, however, one can accept him as a child at play along with his sister at first. The two play though in a way that quickly doesn't at all make you filled with joy or comfort. There is a mix in the way they go about that seems extreme that makes normal childhood antics. The performances are what make the fundamental difference as they just don't seem quite right at all, which in that is most unnerving. Stephens's grin is hard not to see as nefarious as he teases Miss Giddens early on and it isn't a pleasant tease. Stephens has an intensity in his delivery that cuts deeper than it should and that makes Miles more off-putting than his evil alien in damned, because there is something both so believable about his Miles, while also being so unordinary which makes him so disturbing. Particularly there is a moment where Miles "pretend" chokes Miss Giddens, and the sort of mania at the moment that comes across Stephens's face seems so suddenly vicious for a child, yet still childlike in some respects. And perhaps that is the genius of the performance because Stephens never plays the part simply as another, or as a more mature figure in a younger body, it is rather a chimera that is oddly tangible, if so unnatural. Even in the moment of playacting as the two play together, Stephens's conviction as Miles "playing" makes what could be a charming performance, truly unsettling. 

The truth of the piece is a complicated one, and part of the brilliance of the adaptation is its ability to juggle concepts between the literal and what can be interpreted. Is this a ghost story about the dead caretaker and old deceased governess haunting the estate, is it just their memory haunting the mind of the deeply repressed and probably rather insane herself Miss Giddens or is it in between somewhere?  The greatness of the film is not forcing a choice while also not seeming vague, and personally, I'd say Miss Giddens is a bit off her rocker, but the children are at the very least metaphorically "haunted" by the memories of the old pair of lovers who likely abused them in some way. Stephens's performance in many ways creates the sense of the realization of these concepts in a way that is specific while never affirming an absolute. What we do see is a boy who is not right for his age, but whether that is via ghostly possession, or being mistaught in some way by a creepy older man is what is up to interpretation. In either sense, Stephens's performance brilliantly captures these ideas with a force of presence that is often seen in most performances, and very rarely seen in a child. Stephens's nefarious moments as Miles aren't a simple just creepiness, but rather something truly under the skin because of how much strength there is in these acts behind his eyes. Take the moment where Giddens puts him to sleep, and Stephens as Miles speaks towards her with assurance in his eyes and an attempted seductiveness in his voice as he leaps up and kisses her. Stephens's performance is amazing at the moment because how exact this moment is in his work, it isn't clumsy in an innocent way or a creepy way, it is with a particularly frightening intention. 

As much as Stephens makes a powerful impression in giving the greatest creepy child performance of all time already, he perhaps cements this status within the final sequence of the film where Giddens intends to confront him about his "possession" by the old Peter Quint. And the playful Miles twists and turns as she presses the thought to him and tries to get some kind of confession from him. Stephens's first incredible reaction is as he stares down Giddens really and seems truly possessed by Quint, or maybe just using the man's language to his advantage, as he tears into her with violent disparaging anger. Stephens's delivery of the moment is particularly remarkable because again it isn't with a gimmick of a deep voice or anything like that, it is very much a boy's voice, but the intensity behind it and the vileness in his eyes is of a sinister man, maybe just in memory or in truth, either way absolutely captivating to watch. Contrasting that however is when Giddens stays firm in her quest and continues to appeal to the boy as a boy and attempts the confession out of him. Stephens is equally tremendous here and is the one moment in the entire film where Miles seems like, well just a boy. This as Stephens presents this immediate emotional desperation and really just the blunt fear. A fear he presents now not with any of that confidence or sort of eerie wisdom, but rather just the fear of a little boy who is painfully expressing his uncomfortable trauma. The contrasting come seamlessly together to show us Miles as a true victim of something beneath all of his eerie terror, which one can freely interpret on their own. Stephens delivers a great performance here, which requires no qualification, it is simply that by providing the surface chill of an unnervingly mature yet childish boy, and the depth in realizing what might be behind it all.