American cinematographer (Jan-Dec 1941)

Controlling Color (Continued from Page 263) versally recognized as the color of purit). Another, when she found herself losing her husband, was black, which suggested not alone sadness, but also formed a subtle contrast with the more brilliant costumes of Dona Sol. Yet another, worn during two of her most important sequences, was blue — recog nized for ages as symbolic of "true blue" constancy and faithfulness. Dona Sol, (Rita Hay worth) on the other hand, was throughout the patrician seductress. She made her first appearance in a neatly-tailored suit of purple — the patrician color, as evidenced by the phrase, "born to the purple." Later, increasing use was made of more vivid colorings in her costume. In the sequence at the dinner where she first ensnares Gallardo, she is first seen in a white evening gown. Later, as she sings to him, playing the guitar, a closeup of her fingers highlights the scarlet paint on her nimbly-flying finger-tips. In another scene, where she and Tyrone Power play their most passionate lovescene, we see her in a close-up, after which the camera dollies back to reveal the flaming orange bodice she wears, as her scarlet-tipped fingers entwine themselves in Power's black hair. (The combination of red and black has always been symbolic of danger — passion — and evil menace.) This costume, incidentally, forms an effectively dramatic contrast with the simple black dress worn by Linda Darnell when she enters the scene later. Power himself — always the "Spanish begger" at heart, is dominantly costumed in various shades of brown, with of course the inevitable exception of his matador costumes which in the various sequences include blue-and-gold in the first bull-fight and finally a pure white outfit in the last, avoiding any reds except in the inevitable and necessary cape, with which he plays the bull. His mother — Nazimova — is throughout the dominant note of tragic foreboding: she is seen mostly in funereal black and grays, and once in burnt terra-cotta. Nacional, too, is always in black save in his ring trappings, for he is the plain man — the primitive, protesting always against the life of the bull-ring. Coordinating these concepts with the detail requirements of motion pictures was no small task. For a single example, there is the scene in which Juan's wife, knowing already something of her mate's dalliance with Dona Sol, endures the whining complaints of his leech-like sister and brother-in-law for as long as she can, and finally bursting into anger, d lives them furiously from the room, after which she has recourse to utterly feminine tears. As she passively endured the complaints of her sponging relatives, she was clad in a blue costume. But it seemed impossible to me that she — or any actress— could convincingly play a scene requiring a display of passionate rage such as followed, while clad in cold blue. A crimson note — no matter how tiny — would highlight that surge of anger. The problem was solved with a scarf. During the early part of the scene, she kept it rolled in her hand. When her anger finally broke forth and she denounced the hangers-on, I had her unroll the scarf — a natural action for in gesticulating angrily, you might expect her to loosen her grip on it. Finally, as she lushed to the wall, seized a sword, and angrily beat the intruders from the room, the scarf, still in her hand, painted flashing streaks of crimson with every movement. But then — she must weaken and dissolve in tears. The blue note should now dominate. The crimson of the scarf would again be intrusive. How to get rid of it? First I tried having her toss it on a desk as she turned back into the the room. But there was no guarantee it would be concealed from the camera. Finally I had a small lead weight sewn into the corner of the scarf, and instructed her to toss the scarf on the desk so that the weighted corner fell over the edge. That worked perfectly; the weight whisked the bit of crimson lace out of sight behind the desk, thus effectively removing its now dramatically discordant note of red. It may seem that these details are affected — unnatural. Well, so, too, are many of the conventions we recognize as important dramatic aids in black-andwhite cinematography. For example, suppose our script establishes that a man's wife has left him; he is alone, broken-hearted, and contemplating suicide. Every cinematographer in the world would play such a scene in lowkey lighting. Yet in real life, a man might feel those emotions in a brilliantlylit room — perhaps even amid the gayety and bright lights of a night-club. Yet to get the fullest dramatic effect on the screen, we would do the unnatural thing, and present the scene in low-key cinematography. Unnatural, yes. But more truly expressive of inner emotion. And that is what we who as directors or as cinematographers are striving to picturize emotions on the screen must do in conveying a visual impression of those emotions, whether we do it in monochrome or in color. There were many things we did in making "Blood and Sand" which were unnatural. On the set, they looked incredibly artificial. But on the screen, they gave the effect we desired; often they proved more realistic than reality its literal self. In this, we had excellent precedent in the methods of innumerable painters from the dawn of time. If El Greco or Velasquez painted a cardinal, or a king, he strove to depict not only a cardinal or a king, but one who typified the regal. The crimson robe was not merely a crimson robe, but a crimson robe which typified the splendor of all imaginable regal habiliments. In its general impression, that is; If you study such a painting in minute detail, you will see that the painter, to gain his effect, used almost evenimaginable color fi-om deepest black through purples, greens, yellows, and so on to create his highlight-and-shadow effects. We repeatedly strove for similar effects, by similar means. I kept a spray-gun with an unusually wide range of paints constantly standing by on the set, so that we could spray any prop or any costume to get the desired effect. I recall, for example, the way we sprayed a white shirt worn in one scene. It was supposed to be white; but we sprayed it with traces of many other colors — greens and gray-greens, even touches of blue and blue-greens. I am sure that most of the people in the studio thought my senses had taken leave of me when they saw what I had done to that shirt. But when we screened the rushes, that shirt took its exactly right place in the scene, and appeared much more real than if it had remained a literal white shirt! In the same way, in the hospital scene of El Nacional's death, the dominant colors were gray-greens and blues. The studio had provided some excellently authentic hospital accessoi'ies — white sheets, a bed and surgical instrumentcases immaculate in white enamel. They would have proved a jarring, discordant note in the scene. But when they were sprayed a dull gray-green, they fitted perfectly — and I am sure none except possibly the most super-critical medico will notice that they are not the regulation white. In the chapel scenes, we again heightened the mood by spraying the altarornaments, the crucifix, and so on, a green like the patina of old bronze. We heightened this hue, which followed out the sombre green-gray of the set, by doing much of the lighting with green filters over the lamps. Of course, in the closer shots, we kept the green light away from the players, though in the longer shots, we let players and set alike show traces of the greenish light. I have not as yet found any people who noticed this artificiality — but I've found many who complimented me and the cinematographers on the emotional feeling of that sequence. Cutting, too, is something which must be learned all over again in a true color film. In some instances, the fact of color makes for faster cutting; in others, for slower. There can be no general rule, for as in everything else in cinematics, each scene must set its own rules. But things which ai-e of little or no importance in black-and-white becomes vital to either make or break a sequence in color. For example, I recall that some years ago one of the art-directors at Paramount experimented with sets with red walls. The shade chosen was one which in black-and-white photographed as a pleasing, neutral dark gray. They were used through the whole production. In a Technicolor picture, I would hesitate L'ss June, 1941 American Cinematographer