This piece originally appeared in MovieJawn’s Winter 2021 issue, focused on color.

by Fiona Underhill, Contributor

Literary adaptations create some of the most indelible images on screen, due to the rich imagery already available on the page. When choosing what to discuss for this wonderful topic of Color on Film, even narrowing it down to literary adaptations (and focusing on films released in the 1990s) still left so many stunning films to choose from – Merchant Ivory’s Howards End (1992) and Remains of the Day (1993), Potter’s Orlando (1992), Scorsese’s The Age of Innocence (1993), Lee’s Sense and Sensibility (1995), Minghella’s The English Patient (1996) and The Talented Mr Ripley (1999). But, ultimately, a choice had to be made and Henry James is the writer that has been selected for this particular look at the use of color on film.

Black and White in The Innocents (Jack Clayton, 1961), from The Turn of the Screw pub. 1898

It may seem strange to start talking about color on film with one of the most famous examples of black-and-white cinematography of all time. But, of course, the use of black-and-white was a deliberate choice for this film, as was every aspect of Freddie Francis’s meticulous camerawork on Jack Clayton’s masterpiece. The use of white in this adaptation of James’s short story The Turn of the Screw is quite different from how it is used in the book. Clayton very much associates white with the innocence of the title – Miss Giddens (Deborah Kerr) frequently wears white nightdresses, blouses or summer dresses and is framed by white roses, statues and candles. Flora is also nearly always seen wearing white and she is drawn to the water, with its swans and little white rowing boat. Even Miles – whose innocence comes most into question – is associated with his beloved pigeons (which look more like doves) and a white pony. The first thing that Miss Giddens does upon arrival at the imposing Bly is to touch a vase of white roses which are so delicate and fragile, the petals immediately start to fall. When she hears that Miles has been expelled from school, she starts to fret about what he has done to the other boys – “to corrupt, to contaminate” – but you could argue that this is also the effect that her presence has on Bly. In James’s text, white is associated with this corruption – “you’re as white as a sheet”…”the white face of damnation”…”he was at me in a white rage.” 

However, Francis chose to make black the oppressive, ominous force in Clayton’s film adaptation. He (ironically) uses colored filters on the edge of his frame to pull in the edges of the wide cinemascope they had been cajoled into using. So, daylit scenes set in the paradise-like grounds made full use of the 2.35 aspect ratio and Francis even had leaves and foliage painted silver to make them even more reactive to light and seem other-worldly. In contrast, scenes set at night, particularly of Giddens prowling the halls carrying a candelabra are claustrophobic, due to Francis’s use of these filters. She is entirely surrounded by shadow (what Francis called ‘a cocoon of darkness’) and we discover things as she does, as she eerily floats down the halls (with Francis’s extremely fluid camera echoing her movements) as if a ghost herself. Of course, the other most significant use of black is with the two ghosts – Quint and Jessel. Quint appears dressed mainly in black at night, frequently with his deathly white face appearing through or sometimes right at windows. Jessel, who James describes as “dark as midnight in her black dress” appears in broad daylight, which has the effect of making her even more terrifying in some ways. Francis was particularly proud of her appearing among the reeds, across the lake but perhaps the most shocking instance is when it becomes suddenly apparent that she is in the schoolroom. The juxtaposition of the everyday, commonplace and mundane with the knowledge that something is very wrong sends chills through Giddens and therefore, us.

Pinks, Reds and Purples in The Portrait of a Lady (Jane Campion, 1996), book published 1881.

In Campion’s adaptation of The Portrait of a Lady, pale pinks and purples, as well as rose-red are used in several key scenes, usually present as either real flowers or flowers printed on costumes, adorning hats, on wallpaper or bedding. Janet Patterson was both the production and costume designer, as she was for Campion’s films Holy Smoke and Bright Star (as well as doing the costume design for The Piano and Oscar and Lucinda).

The first important use of pinks is in a bedroom scene, where Isabel Archer (Nicole Kidman) is wearing a mauve blouse and the wallpaper, curtains and bedspread are covered in pink flowers. She touches her face and brushes her forehead and mound of red curly hair against the pink fronds of the four-poster bed canopy. She lies on the bed and imagines that two of the men courting her – Warburton (Richard E. Grant) and Goodwood (Viggo Mortensen) are kissing and caressing her, while her cousin (best friend, mentor, confidante) Ralph Touchett (Martin Donovan) watches. It’s a rare depiction of female desire that would probably have not existed if another director had taken on this adaptation and the floral pinks really highlight the unapologetic femininity of the scene.

After this scene of temptation and sexual awakening, the next use of flowers is the extreme opposite – to represent innocence and purity. The scheming Osmond’s (John Malkovich) daughter Pansy (Valentina Cervi) is introduced when she is gathering two bouquets of roses in the garden for the nuns who have raised her – “one of them all white, the other red.” She is immediately associated with fairytales – eg. Grimm’s Snow-White and Rose-Red – which emphasizes her naivete and the fact that she has not yet been ‘sullied’ or ‘spoiled.’ The irony being that she is the product of an illicit affair.

After Osmond has seduced Isabel, there is a scene of them walking with Pansy in public gardens which are absolutely bursting with hydrangeas in their shades of lilac, lavender, mauve, puce and amaranth (with its association with everlasting). Isabel wears a lilac dress and a hat adorned with flowers that match the hydrangeas perfectly. This reflects Isabel’s feelings of contentment, optimism and her eagerness to believe Osmond is a good man and a good match. He tells her “it’s made me better, loving you” and “I’ve brought up my child in the old way” – epithets which will later be revealed as empty, callous and calculating.

Purples and Blues in The Wings of the Dove (Iain Softley, 1997), book published 1902.

Despite being published in 1902, legendary costume designer Sandy Powell requested that the Softley set The Wings of the Dove in 1910, to set it apart from most ‘costume dramas’ of the time. The costuming and hairstyles are clearly very different from The Portrait of a Lady, set thirty years before. The influence of art nouveau can be seen throughout the film, with the three central characters attending a Klimt exhibition in London and them attending a spectacular party that seems to have Egyptian and Asian influences, which would become popular during the 1920s. 

Kate (Helena Bonham Carter) is trying to escape her ‘deadbeat’ and opium-addicted father (Michael Gambon) and rise up in society under her guardian Aunt Maude (Charlotte Rampling). Kate spends much of the first third of the film in a variety of deep and rich blues and purples such as indigo, peacock and royal blue. Blue dye has a history of being rare, highly-prized, sought-after and deemed ‘sacred’ due to its association with The Virgin Mary. Dark blues and purples have a long association with Royalty, so Kate’s costuming is surely a nod to her desire to be upwardly mobile. Kate meetsMilly (Alison Elliot), a rich American, and they go to a party in a hotel (?) that has gorgeous Egyptian blue tiles and a balcony with gold filigree columns, from which they observe Kate’s lover Merton (Linus Roache). Kate wears a dress of royal blue and an indigo cape covered in peacock feathers and Milly wears a peacock blue dress with a gold geometric design. 

Blue is also associated with melancholy, of course and that is certainly a feeling that permeates The Wings of the Dove. About half of the film takes place in Venice (one of the bluest cities, due to the canals), whereas large parts of The Portrait of a Lady take place in Florence and Rome. The love triangle between the three central characters comes to a tragic end in Venice when Milly dies and her funeral features the absence of color – with black and white dominating. The Portrait of a Lady also has two sections with a significant use of black and white – the first being the Osmond seduction scene, which takes place amongst ancient ruins and features Isabel in a black-and-white outfit. The ruins and the lack of color could represent the fact that marriage to Osmond is a kind of death for Isabel. The second is a black-and-white footage section which depicts Isabel’s travels to Egypt, where she has a surreal Daliesque dream, again a touch (like the dreamy sepia flashback sections of In the Cut) that feels like it could have only come from Campion’s mind.

From the starkly contrasting black and white of Freddie Francis’s exquisite cinematography in The Innocents, to Janet Patterson’s feminine and floral production and costume design in The Portrait of a Lady and finally the art nouveau influenced Egyptian blues of Sandy Powell’s costumes in The Wings of the Dove - Henry James has provided a richly varied use of color onscreen. And with Miss Giddens, Isabel Archer and Kate Croy, he has created three of the most memorable women of both literature and cinema. Jack Clayton, Jane Campion and Iain Softley have drawn out these characters’ inner lives through the use of color in the cinematography and costumes with depth and emotion. We are lucky to have these interpretations of James’s words on the cinema screen.