Sheridan Le Fanu’s 1864 novel Uncle Silas has haunted readers for over a century with its sinister tale of a young heiress and her dangerous guardian. Widely considered a classic of gothic fiction, the story of Maud Ruthyn navigating the schemes of her dissolute uncle has been adapted multiple times over the years. Lisa Mulcahy’s latest film version, Lies We Tell, breathes new life into the chilling narrative while exploring thought-provoking themes that still resonate today.
Set in 1864 Ireland, the film follows Maud as she inherits her late father’s vast estate, only to find herself placed in the guardianship of her mysterious Uncle Silas. Played with unsettling charm by David Wilmot, Silas harbors dark secrets and intentions towards Maud and her fortune. At the story’s heart is Agnes O’Casey’s captivating performance as the resilient yet vulnerable Maud. Faced with gaslighting and oppression in Silas’ scheming household, she must rely on her own cunning wits to survive in a world where women had few rights.
Adapting Le Fanu’s classic through a feminist lens, writer Elisabeth Gooch and director Lisa Mulcahy have crafted a tightly paced psychological thriller. While building atmosphere through Gothic settings and an unsettling score, their focus remains on Maud’s harrowing predicament and the resourcefulness required of women in that era. Through its haunting lead performance and exploration of timely themes, Lies We Tell proves that some legends never lose their power to disturb and enlighten audiences.
Trouble at the Manor
The film opens on a somber scene—Maud visiting her father’s new gravesite in the forest, now left alone in the world. Still in mourning garb, her grief is evident as trustees waiting at Knowl have their own concerns—rumors paint Uncle Silas in a bad light.
Before long, Silas arrives with an odd assortment in tow: son Edward, excitable daughter Emily, and the mysterious Madame. Polite smiles mask deeper motives. As Silas inserts himself around the manor, threats begin subtly.
Maud’s independence is challenged as Silas schemes to control her inheritance. He pressures a marriage between Maud and Edward. When she refuses, the gaslighting escalates. Servants are turned, isolating Maud within her own home.
Soon only her intellect prevents total dominance. But each refusal fuels Silas’ cruelty. Maud’s whole world shrinks as allies evaporate. Locked in a claustrophobic war of wills, only her wits can save her now.
In a chilling climax, Maud’s desperate situation comes to a head. Though resolution brings uncertainty, her bravery in a society stacked against women is unmistakable. Through isolation and danger, her spirit would not be broken.
Atmospheric Gothic Chambers
This adaptation whittles Le Fanu’s lengthy novel down to focus tightly on Maud’s harrowing story. That suspenseful approach works well, keeping viewers on edge as her world shrinks scene by scene.
Visually, settings are the star—the grand yet decaying manors of Knowl perfectly suit the Gothic tone. Cinematographer Eleanor Bowman captures the opulence alongside creeping shadows in ornate rooms and dreary cellars. We feel every inch of Maud’s confinement.
Production designers richly furnish each chamber with period details. Costumer Joan O’Clery outfits the cast accordingly, from Maud’s all-black mourning gowns to servants’ worn workwear. These details transport us directly to 1864 Ireland amid the psychological chills.
Remarkably, director Lisa Mulcahy achieves such an immersive atmosphere working with a limited budget. She favors subtle scares over spectacle, intensifying the isolation and dread. It’s an impressively stripped-back approach, focusing our attention tightly on Maud’s harrowing circumstances.
Together, Mulcahy and team establish the perfect gothic setting for Maud’s disturbing situation. Their expertise in environment enhances every unsettling moment, keeping viewers enthralled right through the story’s chilling conclusion.
A Defiant Spark in the Darkness
One of the boldest aspects of this adaptation is how it transforms Le Fanu’s character of Maud Ruthyn. Where the novel portrayed a more subdued heroine, this film imbues her with fierce defiance against the oppressive societal forces she faces.
As a woman in 1864, Maud had virtually no rights or protections. She was at the complete mercy of her male guardian, Silas. The very real threats Maud endures—from forced marriage and confinement in an asylum to violence and sexual coercion—exemplify the tools of patriarchal control used to subjugate women.
But this Maud refuses to bend to Silas’ will or bow under the weight of the system arrayed against her. Despite facing isolation and danger on all sides, her spirit refuses to be broken. Through both grit and guile, she maintains her independence, challenged but unbroken.
It’s a spark of resistance that still feels remarkably timely. By updating Maud into such a bold feminist protagonist within the Gothic framework, the film sheds new light on themes still relevant today: a woman’s right to make her own choices about her body, livelihood, and future.
Through its heroine’s courage in facing misogyny, Lies We Tell crafts a chilling story that serves as a commentary on women’s autonomy. Its exploration of these themes within a period setting makes the narrative altogether more resonant and engrossing.
A Web of Deception
This film rises on the strength of its performances, and what a standout lead it found in Agnes O’Casey. Across every tense scene, she imbues Maud with nuanced layers—analytical wit shielding raw vulnerability. Watching her unravel Silas’ manipulations makes for utterly gripping viewing.
As the master puppeteer, David Wilmot makes Silas’ malevolence all the more chilling. He exudes slick charisma even as his threats grow overt, allowing us to see just how the man ensnares victims in his web of deception. It’s a performance that leaves an unsettling impression long after.
Surrounding them, the cast fleshed out typewritten characters with subtle shades of their own. Maud’s obnoxious cousins and the servants’ shifting loyalties are shown through brief but impactful moments.
Together the performances achieve something truly special—drawing us deep into the psychological trap closing around Maud until we feel every chilling twist as vividly as she. Through these expert portrayals, Lies We Tell gets under your skin, a testament to the singular focus on its lead actors’ formidable talents. In O’Casey and Wilmot, especially, it found anchoring presences that elevate the entire production.
Glimpses of Dread in the Darkness
Under its harrowing story, Lies We Tell is a visual marvel. Cinematographer Eleanor Bowman guides our eyes into the sumptuous yet sinister world of Maud’s gothic confinement.
Through lavish manor halls and cramped cellars alike, her camera soaks in the textures of decaying splendor. It’s the minute glimpses of detail amid encroaching shadows that leave an impression—a painted ceiling collapsing into dust, vines reclaiming ornate balustrades.
These glimpses are intensified by visceral close-ups of Maud’s turmoil. We live her escalating fear through ragged breathing in pools of candlelight. It’s a testament to Bowman’s unerring ability to ratchet tension through framed fragments of the gloom.
Complementing the ominous imagery is composer Stephen McKeon’s score. With low droning notes, it insinuates portent beneath normalcy, announcing each flare of terror.
Alongside production designers, costumer Joan O’Clery outfits characters to transport us entirely into 1864. Lavish fabrics and intricate accessories emerge from the darkness to immerse us in the oppression of that era.
Enveloping all is the sound design. Through haunting silences and faint creaks swelling to an unplaced slam, it crafts creeping dread from bare suggestion. Like Maud, we begin to hear malice in every whisper of the night.
Together, these technical accomplishments create an immersive Gothic nightmare that lingers long after leaving its shadowy halls.
Psyche Trapped in Shadowy Chambers
Lies We Tell proves some tales lose none of their potency, even after over a century. By reframing Le Fanu’s classic through a feminist lens, it breathes new life into familiar characters and themes.
Lisa Mulcahy and her team generate an intoxicating atmosphere of creeping psychological entrapment. Through Gothic Irish manors and the intense staging of interiors, they lock us inside Maud’s darkening predicament alongside her. Meaningful cinematography and an unsettling score only deepen the apprehension.
At the heart of this gripping adaptation is Agnes O’Casey’s unforgettable performance. She immerses us fully in her character’s turmoil, keeping viewers constantly unbalanced alongside her fragile psyche. It’s a psychological feat deserving far greater recognition.
Yet in a sea of sumptuous but safe period pieces, this visually striking chamber piece may float by some larger awards. That would be a disservice for its suspenseful crafting of feminist commentary through a long-cherished literary work.
Lies We Tell achieves that rare feat of shedding new shades on familiar material. It leaves viewers lingering long in the shadows of its corridors, haunted by the fate of its defiant yet desperate heroine. An impeccably chilling drama deserves to find its place among classics of the genre.
The Review
Lies We Tell
Through exquisite direction, mesmerizing performances, and psychological thrills that linger long after, Lies We Tell proves some stories only grow more potent with age. This feminist reframing of Le Fanu's Gothic tale not only enlightens familiar themes but also entrances viewers in its shadowy ambiance. Agnes O'Casey delivers a towering lead turn that anchors this flawlessly executed chamber piece—a dark gem that demands to be discovered.
PROS
- Atmospheric Gothic production values that immerse viewers
- A taut psychological thriller plot keeps tension high
- A nuanced lead performance from Agnes O'Casey anchors the drama
- Feminist reframing of classic literary work feels timely
- Respects source material while adding new shadings
CONS
- Some secondary characters are less developed
- Rushed resolution doesn't match buildup
- Potential for overlooked award recognition
