A LOST WORLD
The sight of James Bond in black-and-white suggests a few romantic reasons for the decline of black-and-white cinema.
JULY 2009 – AFTER EACH SCREENING OF CASINO ROYALE, theatre floors everywhere were surely littered not only with stray kernels of popcorn and tattered confetti from ticket stubs, but also the remnants of expectations that were shattered to smithereens. It wasn’t just that this iconoclastic interpretation of James Bond courted heresy, by refusing to kneel reverentially before the Holy Trinity of guns, girls and gadgets. It’s also the black-and-white shots that opened the film, the shots heard around the world as a defiant declaration of independence from the earlier Bonds. As the film opens, the outer edges of the frame are eaten away by the blackness of night. A solitary streetlamp, towards the centre, attempts to dispel the darkness, throwing a harsh, halogen whiteness on the facade of a high-rise.
The stillness is broken only by a white cloud of smoke rising from the asphalt, or possibly from the bowels of a nearby gutter – and the camera observes everything from a tactful distance, gaping upwards, as if in anticipation of a happening that will disrupt the clean lines of this near-noir composition. And on cue, a car drives up, a black car trailing a sinister black shadow. The driver emerges, the features of his wary face leaving little doubt that he’d like nothing more than to be swallowed up by the darkness, become one with the night. But the streetlamp refuses to cooperate. Its white light falls on the planes of his face that lie in its merciless path, but the angle at which he stands ensures that at least some part of him is shrouded in black.
A discreet cut later, the camera, still below, follows the ascent of an elevator as it hums past shiny lattices of steel and chrome. Inside, the man looks up at the counter, which flashes a digital three, then four and five and finally six, as he reaches his destination. He paces across a corridor and opens the door to a room. Now on the inside of the room, we observe the door swinging inwards, towards a space that appears populated solely by shadows. He walks to a table at the far end, snaps on a lamp, and stiffens in the sudden burst of white light. He turns to face an astonishing image of James Bond.
This is the first time we see Daniel Craig’s incarnation of the superspy, as he coldly announces, “M doesn’t mind you earning a little money on the side, Dryden. She’d just prefer it if wasn’t selling secrets.” But it’s not the purring contents of the voice we pay attention to. (Ask yourself: how many people remember what the latest Bond’s first words were, or even who Dryden was?) It’s his face – the black suit amidst the black shadows leave nothing visible except a disembodied deathmask in white. As Dryden collects himself and sits down, he’s lit by the lamp he just switched on – a man of head and neck and shoulders and fingers prying apart the gloves from his hands, while Bond, in a far corner, is still little more than a face and a voice.
With a faint sneer, Dryden points out that had M suspected him of serious malfeasance, she’d have sent along a double-oh, a status to whose elevation requires two killings, whereas Bond, so far, has none. But Bond has already killed Dryden’s contact – again, in grainy black-and-white – and, now, he pulls the trigger on Dryden. After this near-noir opening, a cascade of blood – all luscious swirls of red – washes over the screen and transports the film to a candyland of colours, but what remains with us is the black-and-white Bond, the creature of the night, the man from the shadows, the brute-force “blunt instrument” (as M refers to him) to whom taking a life is a simple matter of pointing a gun, with no complications of grey shades. (M later observes, “I would ask you if you could remain emotionally detached, but I don’t think that’s your problem is it, Bond?”)
A black-and-white segment in the movies, in our modern age, is usually either an affectation, an ornamental design element, or an indicator of a flashback – and the stylisation and the long-ago-ness of the opening of this Bond movie seem to suggest a bit of both. But it’s only after peeling back the layers of character on this version of Bond that a third fanciful theory snaps into place: it’s only fitting that a man to whom life and death are uncomplicated scenarios painted in black and white should be presented to us in the very same colours. There isn’t much of an audience left for black-and-white movies any more – the colours possibly awaken in people long-suppressed horrors of having suffered through art cinema and documentaries – but could there be other (and admittedly more romantic) reasons for the decline of black-and-white cinema?
Could it be that there aren’t, any longer, too many characters – action heroes, or even otherwise – that could be uniquely defined using those colours, as Daniel Craig’s James Bond was? Could it be that the heroes of today are mostly generic good guys, which necessitates that their attitudes be softened, their characters made more crowd-pleasing, by bursts of warm colour, instead of being isolated by stark, gloomy black-and-white more suited to the angsty noir film, which is no longer in fashion? And despite the fallacy perpetuated by films that black-and-white equates long-ago (the world was always in colour, only the technology was, at one point, black-and-white), could it be that only period films lend themselves to monochrome any more – films about long-ago worlds (The Last Picture Show, The Man Who Wasn’t There) or long-ago people (Ed Wood, Good Night, and Good Luck), or films invoking long-ago memories (Manhattan)?
It would seem that the existential superhero films (like The Dark Knight) would work superbly in black-and-white – which really isn’t just black and white, but also the multitudes of grey within – but who’d throw millions of dollars of production money on a colour scheme that would ward off millions of paying customers? About the only representations of black and white in the films anymore are symbolic – like the good Luke Skywalker in white facing off the evil Darth Vader in black. (Occasionally, there’s a reversal of this ethic – The Godfather: Part II had a villain, Don Fanucci, in white.). And that’s a fascinating paradox of our times – that the movies have switched over to colour, while their characters and the worlds they are set in have become increasingly escapist and simplistic, less attuned to the rich and varied shades of grey than the monolithic dualities of black and white.
Copyright ©2009 Verve. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
brangan
August 6, 2009
This was a curious brief – to muse on black and white in the moviez (for a special issue of Verve whose theme was Black and White; read editorial here).
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Deepauk M
August 6, 2009
Rituparno Ghosh said he made ‘Dosar’ in Black and White to recapture the old world cinema he loved. He also said it was quite difficult to do this because few labs knew what to do with the stock in this day and age.
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aandthirtyeights
August 6, 2009
Apparently, Orson Welles referred to black-and-white as “an actor’s friend”. He said, apparently, “Show me one great performance in colour! I defy you!”
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Sougata
August 6, 2009
Awesome writeup as usual. Still lets be thankful that directors still today experiment in Black and White (Raging Bull, Schindler’s List). Also, if you haven’t yet, do check out Rituparno Ghosh’S film “Dosar” which is again in Black and White 🙂
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Shankar
August 6, 2009
Baddy, you dwelt on this from a character’s perspective and I guess a movie like Schindler’s List would lend to the black and white symbolism from a story perspective…
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brangan
August 6, 2009
Deepauk M/Sougata: I was actually in Cal when “Dosar” was released. But had to let it pass as there were no subtitles. I still haven’t seen it. Aaarrgh!
Shankar: Yes, this was from a character POV, but why do you say that the b/w in “Schindler’s List” was symbolic? It appeared to be simply the fact of evoking a long-ago time. What am I forgetting here? (I haven’t seen the film in a long time.)
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Deepauk M
August 6, 2009
Actually I was in Cal (in my case I mean California) when Dosar released as well. 🙂 I caught it very recently, with subtitles.
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Karan Kapoor
August 6, 2009
I wouldn’t say that its the end of Black and White Cinema rather I feel the directors today cannot handle it properly. As people already stated example of Schindler’s List and Dosar they are beautiful work. But sometimes its good to experiment with colors and no colors.
Obviously the crowd today does not prefer completely b/w movies but using it as flashback, to show a prominent character, sometimes to show depression and excellent photography will make a trick and grab your attention for sure.
If you guys have seen Moksha (trust me don’t ever see it, its pathetic movie), there are a few scenes in black and white. They have used the b/w to show the desperation of Arjun Rampal and changes he is going through. That’s the only time I really showed interest in the movie.
And I think it will never end smart directors will still use it, but don’t expect a complete black and white movie it would be really tough to handle as people might get bored.
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Gopi
August 6, 2009
In this age, I would’ve thought getting a dvd of Dosar shouldn’t be a tough nut. But well, subtitles are floating poop in an ocean, no?
I was lucky to watch it at a screenwriting workshop where Rituparno himself was present. Converted me into an instant fan.
And the thing about The Dark Knight. Wasn’t it like the most drained palette in a summer blockbuster ever? I seriously can’t think of any colourful scenes and can easily imagine the whole film in B/W.
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Shankar
August 6, 2009
Baddy, this excerpt below is from Wikipedia since it explains it better than I could. In my mind, the b/w depicted the horrors of the Holocaust and color was used sparingly to acknowledge hope.
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The girl in the red coat:
Schindler sees a little girl wearing a red coat. The red coat is one of the few instances of color in the black-and-white scenes of the film.
Though the film is primarily shot in black-and-white, red is used to distinguish a little girl in a coat. The red coat symbolizes the fact that Oskar Schindler has opened his eyes to the cruelty that the Nazis are committing against the Jews. Later in the film, the girl is seen among the dead, recognizable only by the red coat she is still wearing. Although it was unintentional, this character is coincidentally very similar to Roma Ligocka, who was known in the Kraków Ghetto for her red coat. Ligocka, unlike her fictional counterpart, survived the Holocaust. After the film was released, she wrote and published her own story, The Girl in the Red Coat: A Memoir (2002, in translation).[15]
According to Andy Patrizio of IGN, the girl in the red coat is used to indicate that Schindler has changed: “Spielberg put a twist on her [Ligocka’s] story, turning her into one more pile on the cart of corpses to be incinerated. The look on Schindler’s face is unmistakable. Minutes earlier, he saw the ash and soot of burning corpses piling up on his car as just an annoyance.” Andre Caron wondered whether it was done “to symbolize innocence, hope or the red blood of the Jewish people being sacrificed in the horror of the Holocaust?” Spielberg himself has explained that he only followed the novel, and his interpretation was that “America and Russia and England all knew about the Holocaust when it was happening, and yet we did nothing about it. We didn’t assign any of our forces to stopping the march toward death, the inexorable march toward death. It was a large bloodstain, primary red color on everyone’s radar, but no one did anything about it. And that’s why I wanted to bring the color red in.”
Candles:
The beginning features a family observing the Shabbat. Spielberg said, “to start the film with the candles being lit…would be a rich bookend, to start the film with a normal Shabbes service before the juggernaut against the Jews begins.” When the color fades out in the film’s opening moments, it gives way to a movie in which smoke comes to symbolize bodies being burnt at Auschwitz. Only at the end do the images of candle fire regain their warmth when Schindler allows his workers to hold Shabbat services. For Spielberg, they represented “just a glint of color, and a glimmer of hope.”
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abhi
August 6, 2009
What do you think of the black and white treatment in ‘La Haine’? It defies most of what is stated above : it was a modern story, it was not a noir film and it had young characters.
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Jaiganesh
August 6, 2009
I loved the way Kamal made the current in Black and White while the past in color.
heard that Aayirahtil oruvan has some black and white portions as well.
I still remember the chinnathaayaval train whishing smoke in Black and white in Thalabadhi.
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arun
August 7, 2009
Dosar was a great movie but I didn’t really appreciate why Rituparno chose to shoot it in Black-n-White. any insights?
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brangan
August 7, 2009
arun: See Comment #2 above.
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dagalti
August 7, 2009
//the world was always in colour, only the technology was, at one point, black-and-white//
lol @ the serious reminder tone of that line.
Calvin’s dad has a more nuanced explanation in one of the strips 🙂
Past in b/w has been used and reused in Tamil now. GM starrers Karna and Indian come to mind and many more nowadays. This is precisely why Hey Ram, as Jaiganesh mentioned, is interesting.
//I loved the way Kamal made the current in Black and White while the past in color.//
In the present, the ‘fire of violence’ is noticeably in colour though. Perhaps indicative of it being the link with the past.
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arun verma
August 11, 2009
brangan@14: Thanks – I had read that but clearly the treatment of the subject wasn’t very old world so I kinda didn’t get the real reason for shooting in B&W.
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Jaiganesh
August 11, 2009
@dagalti – GM = GoundaMani?
if so – then it is too much!!!
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Old noir movies
August 24, 2009
Old noir movies are my favorite. They are so different than modern black and white movies. Still, I loved the Sin City too.
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