Interview With 'In The Grip of Terror' Star Megan Tremethick

In the Grip of Terror marks the return of Amicus Productions to classic British anthology horror, blending Gothic atmosphere with unmistakable supernatural dread. Set within a remote, decaying hospital hidden far from the modern world, the film follows a group of strangers summoned for appointments they do not fully understand and may not survive.

Presiding over the institution is the unnervingly composed Dr. Graves, whose authority conceals forces far beyond medicine or reason. As each visitor is drawn into a separate nightmare, stories unfold involving forbidden experiments, restless dead, and ancient horrors intruding upon the present. Slowly, the truth emerges. The hospital is not a place of healing, but judgment.

Structured as a traditional Amicus portmanteau, In the Grip of Terror presents multiple interlinked tales bound together by a wraparound narrative. Each segment explores a different facet of supernatural and Gothic horror, united by themes of guilt, obsession, and moral consequence.

We sat down with Megan Tremethick who plays Nurse Charlotte Gibbon to talk about her performance, fear, unsettling the audience and directing yourself on set.

Megan Tremethick Interview

Nurse Charlotte feels like the audience’s way into the nightmare. When reading the script, what unsettled you more — the supernatural horror, or the quiet corruption of the hospital itself?

That is such an interesting question. I would have to say the insidious corruption of the hospital itself. I’ve never been someone who finds it easy to place blind trust in people, which can sometimes be a shame, but has also proved useful at times. I have always found the idea of human corruption far more frightening than the supernatural.

That’s not to say I am closed off to the supernatural. I’m very open minded to it, but because I have never personally had a supernatural experience, the evils of humanity feel much more tangible and therefore more unsettling to me. Perhaps if I ever do have a supernatural experience, that might all change.

The One-Way Ward draws from Lovecraft’s Cool Air, a story rooted in denying death. How did that idea shape the way you played Charlotte’s empathy and restraint?

I wanted Nurse Charlotte to appear naive on the surface, but when you look closer, there is a steady groundedness to her, a sense that she has already accepted her fate. That acceptance gives her a kind of restraint and calm that shapes how she moves through the world.

However, when she realizes there may be a chance for her fate to change, that stability is ripped away and replaced by a deep, almost frantic desperation. That shift felt very human and very relatable to me. Many people are afraid of death, myself included, so understanding Charlotte’s motivations came quite naturally.

The facade she builds, convincing herself that she has accepted her lot in life, only for that belief to be shattered, leaves her scrabbling to regain some sense of control and a future for herself. That emotional journey was at the heart of how I approached the character.

Amicus films are steeped in moral consequence. How aware were you of carrying that classic British horror legacy into a modern performance?

I was extremely conscious of that legacy. Rather than trying to modernize the performance, I leaned into the period by studying actors from that era, their speech patterns, mannerisms, and overall restraint, and allowing those qualities to shape my choices.

From the outset, our director Lawrie Brewster explained that the film would be anachronistic, as if Amicus Productions had never stopped making horror films after the 1970s. As a result, the inspirations sit somewhere between the early 1960s and 1970s, which gave us a very clear tonal framework to work within.

That said, although Amicus films are often rooted in morality, I do not think the characters are presented as simply good or bad in a black and white sense. What makes them interesting is that they are frequently placed in impossible situations, and under that pressure they make choices that might otherwise seem unthinkable.

That was very much my approach to Charlotte. To play a character convincingly, you cannot judge them. You might not morally endorse their actions, but you have to understand their perspective and be able to say, “Yes, I can see why you did that.”

Even towards the end of the segment, as Charlotte’s moral compass becomes increasingly unclear, I made sure I never lost sight of her motivations. If I were in her position, I would be utterly terrified, and keeping that fear at the centre of the performance helped everything make sense for me.

Much of Charlotte’s fear comes from being told not to ask questions. Was there a moment on set where the horror felt especially psychological rather than supernatural?

There is a very strong psychological element running throughout the segment, particularly in the way silencing and withheld information are used. When I first realised, through the script, that certain members of the hospital staff knew far more than they were admitting, that genuinely gave me chills.

The idea of memento mori plays a role here as well. It’s present in the visuals, in the way Jonathan Hansler and I approached our characters, and even in how the supernatural elements reveal themselves.

There was one moment in particular where I felt this most strongly. There’s a scene where I’m standing by an empty bed, simply staring. Lawrie Brewster’s vision for that moment was incredibly effective. With nothing more than a subtle lighting change, he managed to convey so much without any dialogue or overt theatricality. It was a perfect example of psychological horror doing the heavy lifting.

You also co-directed one of the segments. Did stepping behind the camera change how you think about horror — or your place within it?

It was such an honour to co-direct A Diagnosis of Death alongside the immensely talented Lawrie Brewster and the fantastic Calum ‘Caz’ Paul. Around the same time, I was also directing my feature debut, my ASMR horror film Spoiling You, so it was certainly a very busy period behind the camera. I loved every moment of working on both projects, particularly because they are so different from one another tonally and creatively.

Every time I direct scenes or help out as part of the crew, which I often do in make-up and costume departments as well, I learn something new. It’s a process that always humbles me as an actor. Everyone at our main studio, British Horror Studio, is incredibly hardworking and grounded, both cast and crew, and that environment really encourages mutual respect.

Because of that, I now make the most of my time on set regardless of whether I am there as cast or crew. I always recommend that actors work as part of a crew at least once in their career, as it completely changes your perspective on how a film set functions and what your role within it truly is. It is a very humbling experience, and I think that is an essential lesson for any actor.

Hospitals are meant to heal, yet they remain a staple of Gothic horror. Why do you think medical spaces are so effective at unsettling audiences?

There’s something inherently unsettling about hospitals, even though they are also incredible places that help people and save lives. For me personally, I think some of that fear is tied to health anxiety, and also the fact that I have thankfully never had to undergo surgery. The idea of being sedated and placed in someone else’s care is something I find strangely frightening.

I think it often comes down to a loss of control. People usually find themselves in hospital at moments when they feel vulnerable and uncertain, and that lack of agency can be deeply unsettling. Unfortunately, hospitals also carry heavy emotional associations, as we are rarely there for positive reasons, even though there are of course exceptions.

That mixture of uncertainty, vulnerability, and relinquishing control makes medical spaces especially effective within horror, as they tap into very real and deeply rooted fears.

What do you hope modern viewers — particularly those new to Amicus-style anthology horror — take away from In the Grip of Terror?

I really hope modern audiences see In the Grip of Terror as a genuine and respectful tribute to classic Amicus, and that it transports them, even briefly, back to that era. Director Lawrie Brewster, producer Sarah Daly, and our entire team have such deep admiration for the original Amicus Productions.

There was never any intention to replace the classic films, not that anyone ever could, but rather to create new stories that carry the same spirit and essence that made the originals so special to us as viewers. If audiences can feel that love and respect for the source of inspiration, then I think we have done our job.

If Nurse Charlotte could walk out of that hospital carrying one truth she wasn’t meant to discover, what do you think it would be?

I don’t want to spoil the film, so I won’t over explain. However, I think the truth she’d carry with her would be something along the lines of: sometimes, death is better.