• Directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, 1947

AN: originally posted on July 6, 2016 to my old blog.

At the beginning of Black Narcissus, the nun Sister Ruth (Kathleen Byron) rings a bell to summon the villagers living in the valley below. She stands at the cliff’s edge and looks down into the canopy below, down into oblivion. From the top of the world the view is beautiful but the fall is steep, as Black Narcissus shows us over the course of two heady hours.

As the nuns get closer and closer to God, climbing nine thousand feet into the clouds, the proximity to the sublime becomes too much to bear. All of them find themselves tempted in some way- by lust, by beauty, by the desire for freedom. Sister Philippa admits to Sister Clodagh that she feels overwhelmed by the place. Clodagh tells her to work herself harder so that she has no room in her head for distraction. At this point Philippa reveals her blistered, aching hands. She’s already worked herself to the bone, but it’s not enough to quiet the strange magic of this place. Clodagh herself is tempted by Mr. Dean, he of the open shirts and short shorts. But she cannot stand to be around him and rebuffs him at every turn. Sister Ruth is also tempted by Dean, but Ruth lacks both Clodagh’s devotion to the faith and her self-control. After Dean speaks to Ruth once, thanking her for helping with something, she is completely infatuated- to the point where breaking her vows seems a very real option.

Sexuality echoes throughout the film, despite the fact that not even a kiss is exchanged between any two characters. A mountain across the valley from the palace is called “Nangu Delva”- the “bare goddess”. A teenage girl named Kanchi (Jean Simmons) flaunts her beauty to catch the eye of the general’s son (Sabu). A painting of the palace’s former inhabitants- the women of the harem- hangs on the wall. Clodagh immediately wants it taken down. The nuns do what they can to remain on a righteous path, to do their good work, to not be distracted by the beauty of the place (or its inhabitants). But their usual rules do not apply. Sister Philippa in particular is so overcome that she begs to be transferred to another convent. She loves the place too much and it’s causing her to forget her faith. To Clodagh she says, “I think there are only two ways of living in this place. . . Either ignore it or give yourself up to it.” To which Clodagh replies, “Neither will do for us.” The nuns get a glimpse into a world of unbounded passion and limited control, one that is alternately wonderful and terrifying. They cannot ignore what they’ve found, and they cannot allow it to consume them. In the end, they are only just able to turn their backs on it and walk away.

Some aspects of the film, such as the liberal use of brownface, may make modern audiences cringe. But in all other respects this film remains as striking and powerful as it must have been for the 1947 audiences. Vibrant colours and beautiful vistas saturate each frame. Kathleen Byron delivers her most famous, defining performance, while Deborah Kerr plays a more subtle but no less compelling part. The result is an unforgettable film, as thoughtful as it is beautiful.