The Savages are an ordinary couple resides in an unassuming house in London, where Myra (Kim Stanley) works as a medium, conducting weekly séances for a variety of people who come from far and wide to sample from her apparent brilliance. Her husband, Billy (Richard Attenborough) struggles to keep his wife under control, with her fragile mental state, a result of a life defined by tragedies, such as the death of their son, has given her enormously daunting delusions of grandeur, leading her to believe that she is gifted with psychic abilities. Billy knows this to be false, but at the fear of losing his wife and everything she stands for (as well as their home, which she makes very clear she owns), he goes along with her masquerade, serving as her assistant and abiding by her every whim. Her latest flight of fancy concerns Billy – deciding that she needs people to “take notice” of her skills, she convinces her husband that they need to take their business to the next level, and coerces him into kidnapping the young daughter of a wealthy local family, so that she may be of service to the investigation, helping solve the mystery, while in actuality being the perpetrator. Faced with no other choice, Billy goes along with the plan, reluctantly following his wife’s orders, even if they are beyond criminal, all for the sake of satiating her and giving her the chance to resolve any of the underlying issues she holds, with this kidnapping plot harbouring roots in her deeply frail psychological state. However, as their plan unravels, Billy finds his wife becoming increasingly more intent on proving her worth, which results in her pushing him to go further, to the point where the idea of murder is even seriously considered. Despite being hostile to the entire plot, Billy has no choice but to follow her orders, not possessing the strength to walk away or refuse her increasingly absurd demands – and before he knows it, he’s been thrust too far to turn back, or even hope to lead a normal life ever again.

On occasion, you hear about a performance that is apparently a definitive example of screen acting – and there is very little doubt that Kim Stanley’s performance in Séance on a Wet Afternoon is truly of mythological proportions, only residing in relative obscurity due to this sentiment being restricted to the smaller but still incredibly passionate group of supporters the film has. Starting a discussion on Séance on a Wet Afternoon entails mentioning Stanley from the outset – it’s work that perhaps may not have been designed with her in mind, nor as being a vehicle for an actress to the point where the performance becomes the main aspect of the film as a whole, but through her mighty performance, she manages to create one of the most memorable films of the 1960s, alongside Richard Attenborough, who not only gave an equally compelling performance but nurtured this film to the point where it is something of a minor masterpiece. Bryan Forbes is a director whose work rarely gets mentioned as being impressive pieces of genre fiction, with films such as The Whisperers and The Stepford Wives considered as interesting works of cinema for certain aspects, whether for a performance or for some theme or element of the plot, which are rarely attributed to Forbes, who was always consistent in shepherding fascinating ideas and incredible performances into films that perhaps didn’t always warrant such effort. However, re-analysis is always affordable, and with Séance on a Wet Afternoon, Forbes consolidates his place in history as one of the most important filmmakers of his generation, curating one of the most extraordinary pieces of cinema produced at its time, and a work that remains as chilling and starkly brilliant over half a century later, waiting for audiences to discover the perverted charms that lurk just beneath this beautifully idyllic view of suburban life.

At the primordial level, Séance on a Wet Afternoon is essentially not much more than an ordinary crime thriller if we’re looking at it purely from a structural point of view – a pair of average citizens decide that they need to capitalize on an opportunity in order to benefit themselves and hatch a plan that becomes increasingly more intense the further they find themselves venturing forward with it until they’re eventually exposed. In this regard, the film doesn’t say or do anything that is out of the ordinary – in fact, it follows many familiar beats, to the point where it seems like the filmmakers are intentionally being parodic of the genre. However, this is all intentionally by design, with this skeletal plot being compounded with an intelligent set of ideas that lead Séance on a Wet Afternoon towards being more of a psychological thriller, both in form and the message it is conveying. The film subverts many of the genre’s more common quirks through simply embracing them at first, and then quietly disposing of them when it is opportune for the story, creating a sense of bewilderment, leading to the viewer struggling to discern exactly where the film is going. Every time we believe we have a handle on what the film is saying, it goes into an entirely different direction, keeping this story on the fundamentally human level insofar as it never becomes absurd enough to become derailed by perverted self-indulgence, while still managing to deconstruct it in some truly unexpected ways.

Looking further into the film reveals how much of a feat Forbes accomplishes when executing this story – removing the storyline, and focusing instead on the ways in which the film is made, we see how much of a marvel Séance on a Wet Afternoon actually is. The first hour of the film is a masterful example of building suspense – there have been few thrillers that have been able to captivate the viewer quite as much as this one, with the elegant execution of a horrifying crime being some of the finest ever committed to the screen. The pacing and the framing are simply extraordinary, with the audience not only being left to wonder how they’re going to commit the crime but also watching with macabre fascination as this horrifying kidnapping is put together. Forbes blends the psychological torment with pitch-black comedy, creating a sense of unease, which is only compounded by the almost voyeuristic position the audience is placed in. The various segments of the film that focus on the execution of the plot are splendidly put together, being as thrilling as they are terrifying – and the authenticity Forbes brings to these parts of the film, shooting them with almost documentary-style realism, is the precise reason why they’re so deeply unsettling. This isn’t just heightened sensationalism, it’s something that is horrifyingly stark and could feasibly happen (and as the countless true stories that have recurred throughout history will attest, the reality portrayed here is far from speculative). On a purely structural level, Forbes does wonders with the story, bolstering what could’ve very easily been a scattered film about kidnapping and turning it into something that often borders on outright horror, which is not a particularly easy feat to accomplish, especially not with a film like this, where the authenticity is ultimately what drives the plot.

Yet, everything about Séance on a Wet Afternoon ultimately goes back to the two leading performances. The film is constructed in an almost theatrical manner, with the majority of the action taking place within the house, other than the few sequences in which the kidnapping plot is enacted. This gives the film a certain intensity in terms of the characters, with the restriction of the plot to this central location facilitating insightful portrayals of both individuals and their inner quandaries. Kim Stanley commands the film, delivering one of the finest screen performances of the era, and perhaps in all of film history. Myra is a despicable woman, but she is fully unaware of this fact. One of the key concepts when writing a great villain is to construct them in a way that the audience doesn’t necessarily empathize with them, or even like them, but rather are bewitched by them, with their peculiar charms beguiling us in such a way that we simply can’t look away. Part of this comes in infusing the character with the genuine sense that what they’re doing is perfectly moral and justified by some unspoken code that makes such behaviour acceptable. In putting together one of the screen’s most complex villains, Stanley is quite simply extraordinary – she takes on the role with ferocity but never plays it from the perspective of high camp or excess. Myra is a larger-than-life character that resides in an entirely different psychological realm to every other character – but she’s still ultimately unflinchingly human, and the extent to which the actress goes to give this character nuance, whether it be through delivering her lines with a subtle blend of vitriol and heartbreaking longing, or as in something as seemingly insignificant as a small gesture or subtle expression, Stanley is just operating from an entirely different set of resources than many actresses would when given a role like this, being one of the most immensely potent portrayals of a psychopath ever committed to film.

She is joined by Attenborough, who plays, in many ways, her moral opposite: a man who realizes the gravity of the situation, and is plagued with feelings of guilt – but his own fears of inadequacy override his ethical core, and causes him to engage in criminal activity, even though he knows what he is doing is wrong. The two characters work together precisely because they’re polar opposites, and while Stanley may be doing something incredibly different from what we normally witness with these kinds of roles, it would be foolish to dismiss Attenborough, who is as impressive, only playing a more subdued character who may not make the boldest statement when on screen, but certainly leaves a lingering impression. The two actors truly go all the way with these roles, playing them in such a way that they never need to resort to cheap humour to be effective, while still being wildly entertaining. Part of what makes Séance on a Wet Afternoon such a compelling film is the wry sense of humour underpinning it, without it ever becoming overly comedic in such a way to distract from the terror underpinning the film. These are two exceptionally memorable performances that grapple the narrow boundary between realism and heightened surrealism – and whether it’s in their individual moments (which are terrifying) or their stark chemistry that suggests the rare instance of near-perfect compatibility between actors, Stanley and Attenborough do some of the most impressive work of the 1960s in terms of their performances, finding depth in otherwise archetypal villains, and giving the film a sense of inescapable horror without being constructed as otherworldly villains. If anything,  Séance on a Wet Afternoon is most terrifying because of how human these characters seem – it demonstrates that absolutely anyone is capable of malicious deeds, should they feel compelled to do so, especially when there is some reward on the other side of their actions, whether it be something as elusive as fame or wealth, or the pathetic need to get approval from someone, as is the case with Myra and Billy respectively.

However, if we venture further into the film, we soon realize that Séance on a Wet Afternoon is very different from other films in the genre – the reason being that is may not even be solely focused on the machinations of a couple trying to win wealth and fame through committing a crime, but rather something much deeper. This is, at the core, a film about parenthood. There are many films that tend to focus on family-oriented problems, and the idea of a childless couple trying to work through their trauma in different ways is hardly unique to cinema. However, in the context of this film, it takes on an entirely different appearance, creating a sense of extreme terror that is all the more unsettling based on its absurdly dark approach to the most joyful of experiences. Myra and Billy were robbed of their son at birth, and have processed this loss in different ways. For Billy, he has developed anxieties that prevent him from operating in the work-force, being mostly secluded to his home, where he feigns asthma as a way of circumventing any questions to his docility, while Myra has grown so despondent as a result of her trauma, she conjures up the idea that her son can communicate with her, and all of her dark thoughts are siphoned through the fact that “Arthur says so”. Ultimately, the film is about a couple kidnapping a child, but the reasons for doing so aren’t as clear as they seem – throughout the film, we see them care for the child, lovingly look after her as parents normally would, which momentarily allows them to feel the joy of caring for a child, something they have sadly never known until they did it by force.

Even the language employed in the film unveils this darker side of the characters and their motivations – the constant talk of “borrowing” a child hints at something far more sinister and unsettling, resulting in a terrifying perspective of parenthood that can rival films like The Babadook and Eraserhead in how genre conventions are employed to portray a very different perspective of parenting, reflecting something deeper than what it appears to be on the surface. Supernatural horror, psychological thriller, dark comedy and melodrama all merge together to form this poignant film that is insatiable in its intention to be as daring as it possibly can, albeit all within reason. Bryan Forbes was a sincerely underrated filmmaker, and as evident by this film, when working with a good story (inspired by a long-forgotten novel), he was able to make something truly extraordinary. Anchored by strong performances by Kim Stanley (who is giving one of the finest screen performances of the 1960s), and Richard Attenborough, and made with conviction and the good sense to push the envelope without becoming too perverted, Séance on a Wet Afternoon is a masterful psychological thriller that doesn’t get too caught up in its own subversive nature to lose sight of the bigger picture. It’s a fascinating character study that is very authentic, often horrifyingly so, and truly bone-chilling, with many sequences in this film being some of the most terrifying of the decade, which is all the more surprising considering how distant this film is away from other films in any of the many genres it samples so liberally from, rarely residing within one without rapidly shifting to another, sometimes even in the same scene. It’s a poignant, fascinating exploration of the intersections between psychopathy and parenthood, two very different areas of inquiry that are seamlessly brought together in this terrifying, but beautifully enigmatic work of unconventional, highly intelligent genre storytelling.