Starring Deborah Kerr, David Farrar, Kathleen Byron, Flora Robson, Jean Simmons, Sabu
I had heard the title Black Narcissus for years, and was intrigued. Eventually I learned that it was based on a novel by British novelist Rumer Godden and starred Sabu, the Indian actor who had anchored Hollywood's Technicolor live action The Jungle Book. I then assumed the movie was a 1940s Hollywood jungle epic. Then I was able to see it -- once again, thanks Turner Classic Movies! -- and was captivated.
Though certainly a colonialist fable of sorts and employing the racist casting policies of the times (several East Indian characters are played by white actors), it's a film unlike any other, posing philosophical questions about the nature of faith thematically while seducing the viewer visually. Like the perfume of the title, Black Narcissus is impossible to forget.
Deborah Kerr has one of her best screen roles here; the film is also glorious for its painterly cinematography, large-scale sets, and relentlessly haunting mood. It was directed and produced by Powell & Pressberger, the Anglo-German team that produced The Red Shoes, and their cinematographer Jack Cardiff, so there’s a similar look of heightened fantasy, scale, and saturated blues and reds. The lush atmosphere is in itself a character in the action. And while the film begins harmlessly enough -- it's about nuns for heaven's sake! -- it snowballs dramatically into a thriller.
PLOT SUMMARY (**SPOILERS**):
A group of British Anglican nuns is sent to the Himalayas to establish a mission, dispensary and school for girls. This is a test of sorts for Sister Clodagh (Kerr), in her first posting as a Sister Superior. The locale is to be a palace donated to them by a local Indian general. When the nuns arrive they discover that Mopu Palace was previously the opulent cliff-top dwelling of his ancestor’s harem. Spacious with spectacular views of the valley, the locale is problematic: the locals are mistrustful of outsiders; a local shaman competes for their religious attentions; the building itself needs renovations; and the palace is decorated with erotic paintings. More troubling: a relentless wind blows against its walls.
It is an uphill climb for the sisters, who must establish the school, plant a garden, treat the sick, and overcome language and cultural barriers. Clodagh particularly dislikes the General’s English agent, Mr. Dean (David Farrar, the Colin Farrell of his day). Like any good degenerate colonialist, Dean is enjoying the local lifestyle a bit too much for Clodagh's taste. Always half-clad, half-drunk, and in the habit of bedding local girls at will, Dean nevertheless provides has the muscle and the know-how to get things done around Mopu and the sisters come to rely on him, a fact that Clodagh resents. Resentment turns to fascination, however, as the virile and handsome Dean – the only European male for miles -- stirs up long-dormant feelings.
The Indian general’s teenaged son shows up one day and begs to be educated alongside the girls. Played by Sabu, the Little General is all pious platitudes about Christianity and worldly ambition, and he charms Sister Clodagh. He attends lessons among the girls bedecked in jewels and silks, waving a handkerchief soaked in a pricey Darjeeling perfume called Black Narcissus that sets everyone’s senses astir. Meanwhile, Mr. Dean has brought in the Indian girl Kanchi (wonderful Jean Simmons, but gasp, in muddy brownface makeup) to be educated and used as an extra hand. It is not clear whether Dean has had his way with her, but once Kanchi and the Little General lock eyes, it's a love worthy of legend -- references by characters to the folktale of "The Prince & the Beggar Maid" abound.
Setbacks proliferate for the nuns at Mopu. The thick sensuality of the air around the palace seems to bewitch and confound them. A child falls ill and dies. Sister Philippa finds herself planting bright fragrant flowers instead of the vegetables the community needs. Kanchi runs away. Clodagh suddenly dreams of her life before taking the veil, as a redheaded Irish beauty engaged to a suitor who ultimately abandons her for a future in America. And Sister Ruth, a troubled young nun who has become a thorn in Clodagh's side, becomes unhinged.
The nuns' mission was to transform this edge of India known as The Roof Of The World into a place of strict Christian order. But surrounded by the sexual awakening of their girls, a blossoming young love affair between the Prince and Kanchi, cultural nudity, the lush landscape, the sensuality of fragrance, and the endless wind, they find themselves questioning their mission, their convictions, and even their sanity. Jealousy, envy, repression all take their toll. Noting recent developments, Mr. Dean predicts the nuns won’t last beyond the rainy season in this beautiful but unsettling place.
One evening Clodagh finds Sister Ruth wild-eyed in her room, in civilian clothes and declaring that she has given up the order. Alarmed, Clodagh offers to sit the night with Ruth in prayer but Ruth, in a none-too-subtle gesture of sexual rebellion, slowly and defiantly applies red lipstick to her mouth. It's a chilling moment. Clodagh falls asleep, however, and Ruth, catlike, streaks from the room and locks it behind her. She rushes straight into the arms of Mr. Dean, who laughs her off and suggests she go back to Sister Clodagh. Rejected, the very mention of Clodagh makes Ruth see red and faint. When she comes to, she dashes into the jungle.
"Sister Ruth has gone mad!" is the rallying cry now at the palace, as everyone is awakened to look for her. Ruth returns to the palace unseen, slinking up stairs and along corridors in sinister shadow. As the morning breaks, Clodagh climbs to the bell tower, situated on a Himalayan peak, to sound the morning chimes. Ruth leaps from her hiding place and attacks Clodagh, who falls over the side clinging with one hand to the bell rope. Desperate not to fall to her death, Clodagh claws her way back onto the ledge, unintentionally knocking Ruth off balance and over the side.
The last scene has the sisters packed up and leaving the palace on donkeys. Clodagh says goodbye to Dean, for whom she has developed a grudging respect. She has failed in her mission and most likely won’t get another chance to lead, but she’s fine with it. As the sisters leave, the first rain of the monsoon season begins to fall. Dean’s prediction has been borne out.
NOTES:
The film was shot entirely on soundstages in England, and the incredible scenery of the cliffs and the palace were actually paintings created for the film. The shots of the palace, with its high-ceilinged rooms, Moghul woodworking and archways, winding stairways and terraces are breath-taking. The scale of many of the shots, which makes the locations look gargantuan and the people look small, only heightens the feeling of isolation and helplessness in the face of overwhelming forces. There's also a scene during one of Clodagh’s flashbacks, when she is in hip boots, fly fishing in Ireland with her red hair flying around her. The water is photographed with the light glistening from the surface like jewels. It's lovely. The cinematography captures the billowing, virginal white habits of the nuns flitting through the stone hallways, great rooms, and terraces, looking like so many fluttering doves in the predawn light.
I gained new respect for the acting skills of Deborah Kerr in this flick. I’ve seen quite a few of her films (The Sundowners, Separate Tables, An Affair To Remember, From Here To Eternity, Heaven Knows Mr. Allison, Tea And Sympathy, The King And I, Quo Vadis, Bonjour Tristesse) and she’s a bit stiff most of the time. In Black Narcissus, pared down to just the planes of her face due to the nun’s costume, she is extremely effective at wordlessly communicating her every emotion from pride to disgust to fear to longing.
As noted, three major Indian characters are played by white actors. In a switch, the character of a young local boy named Joseph, who serves as the nuns’ interpreter, is played by a child who is clearly mixed-race. He turns out to be Eddie Whaley Jr., son of Eddie Whaley, who was part of England’s first black on-screen vaudeville team, Scott & Whaley.
Black Narcissus is a spellbinding film. It will make you think about what the repression of desire can do. Culturally, this is a typical English picture about yet another effort by the Europeans -- and European religion -- to colonize and control the “heathens.” What I love about it is that they are confounded in their efforts – the mystery, majesty, and tradition of the Roof Of The World is too strong for these missionaries and they are beaten back. In the process, the proud and controlling Sister Clodagh must bend and soften a bit. She fails, but she learns a thing or two -- including Christian humility. She also gains much-needed respect for the Indian way of life in the process.
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