A feminist fable in the form of a period horror movie, writer-director Corinna Faith’s debut feature is atmospheric but otherwise mediocre. Set in a run-down East London hospital in 1974, when the Thatcher government’s dispute with coal miners led to electricity shortages and periodic blackouts, its heroine is Val (Rose Williams), a nervous young nurse with roots in the impoverished neighborhood.
New to the staff, she receives a frosty greeting from the stern matron (Diveen Henry) along with an order to work the night shift, though most of the other nurses, as well as Dr. Franklyn (Charlie Carrick), are more welcoming. Val takes an immediate interest in Saba (Shakira Rahman), an adolescent who is one of the few patients not evacuated to other hospitals before the night’s blackout is scheduled to occur. Saba has tried to escape the place several times, and cannot explain why since her English is limited.
The rest of the nursing staff regard her as a troublemaker, but Val tries to comfort the girl, and the cause of her fear soon becomes apparent: a terrifying supernatural entity emerges from the walls at night. It has the ability to possess and use the living for its purposes, and Val becomes its target. Eventually, the spirit is revealed as the manifestation of Gail (Clara Read), a young patient who disappeared from the children’s ward some time ago and is presumed to have run off.
What actually happened to her is related to another aspect of the place alluded to in the title—the power structure within the hospital, represented by the male doctors and administrators who can exercise their authority to abuse their charges. Gail’s presence possesses Val to take vengeance on those who wronged her, and flashbacks to an event from the nurse’s own past suggest why the ghost selected her as the appropriate vessel for her wrath. Williams anchors the film with a hyper-charged performance, and the rest of the cast—especially Rahman—is solid.
But the impact of The Power derives primarily from the ambiance created by the technical crew: Francesca Massariol’s production design is gloomily effective, and cinematographer Laura Bellingham employs it to maximum effect, cleverly balancing light and shadow to generate a genuinely creepy mood. The film adds some gravity to the spookiness through the critique of classism and sexism that becomes increasingly pronounced as the narrative proceeds, but in the end, it comes across as just a ghost story that strains to have some contemporary social relevance, with an ending that is little more than supernatural wish-fulfillment. Optional.