Scarlet Threads

A Study in Scarlet 

(SA/2025) 

 

There's the scarlet thread of murder running through the colourless skein of life, 

and our duty is to unravel it, and isolate it, and expose every inch of it. [1]

 

  

I. 

 

I don't dislike the bright shade of red known as scarlet, even if I prefer other colours, such as sky-blue pink and lemon drizzle yellow. That said, the less of an orange tinge the better (I don't like the secondary colour orange).

 

 

II. 

 

Like other colours, scarlet is associated with many things but has no fixed meaning. 

 

Even Christians can't decide whether to value it as the colour of blood and thus associate it with martyrdom (think of Jesus and the miracle of transubstantiation), or as the colour of sexual passion and of sin, associated with prostitution and adultery (think of the Whore of Babylon riding a scarlet beast and Hester Prynne wearing her infamous scarlet letter). 

 

 

III. 

 

Scarlet is an old word that can be traced back to ancient Persia. But in English, from around 1250, it referred primarily to the kind of brightly coloured cloth that the rich and powerful like to drape themselves in so as to demonstrate to the world that they are, indeed, rich and powerful. 

 

The finest scarlet, called scarlatto came from Venice, where it was made from kermes [2] by a guild which closely guarded the formula, much as KFC guards its secret mix of eleven herbs and spices today. Cloth dyed scarlet cost as much as ten times more than cloth dyed blue. 

 

However, in the 16th century an even more vivid scarlet began to arrive in Europe from the New World. For when the Spanish conquered Mexico, they discovered that the Aztecs were making brilliant red shades from another variety of scale insect called cochineal. 

 

The first shipments of this new and improved (and significantly cheaper to produce) scarlet were sent from Mexico to Seville in 1523.

      

Naturally, the Venetians at first tried to block the use of the cochineal in Europe, insisting on the superiority of their own dye. But, before the century was over, it was being used in in Italy, just as in Spain, France, and Holland, and almost all the fine scarlet garments of Europe were eventually made with cochineal. 

 

 

IV.

 

These days, in an age of mechanical cowardice and camouflage, British soldiers all wear their drab multi-terrain patterned uniforms. But, once upon a time, they were known as the Redcoats and proudly wore scarlet tunics so as to be seen by the enemy ...

 

This distinctive uniform was a powerful symbol of national identity and British imperial rule. Sadly, it was gradually phased out during the mid-19th century and the last time the British Army wore red in active combat was during the Battle of Ginnis, in 1885 (which they won).      

 

V.

 

Turning from the world of warfare to the world of art, we find that great painters across the ages have loved to use vermilion, a form of scarlet pigment made from the powdered mineral cinnabar. 

 

However, after the First World War commercial production began of an intense new synthetic pigment -cadmium red - made from cadmium sulfide and selenium. And this new scarlet pigment soon became the standard red used by artists in the 20th century. 

 

 

VI. 

 

I've already referred in passing to Hawthorne's great novel The Scarlet Letter (1850). But there are two other scarlet works of fiction I feel I should mention ... 

 

Firstly, Conan Doyle's detective mystery which introduced Sherlock Holmes to the world, A Study in Scarlet (1888), in which the main clue to a case of multiple homicide is the German word Rache (revenge) written in blood on the wall.  

 

Secondly, The Scarlet Pimpernel (1905), by Baroness Orczy, the story of an English lord, Sir Percy Blakeney, who wore a disguise in order to rescue French nobles from the guillotine during the Reign of Terror. 

 

Sir Percy was supported by a secret society - the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel - and he left behind him a flower of the species Lysemachia arvensis as his calling card. 

 

 

VII. 

 

There is, of course, a politics of scarlet, just as there's a politics of most things (even brushing your teeth). 

 

And in the 20th century, the red flag became firmly associated in the cultural imagination with revolutionary socialism; both the Soviet Union and communist China adopted such (although the Communards beat them to it in 1871).   

 

Funnily enough, in China red is also the colour of happiness, but I'm not sure the tens of millions of people who died during Chairman Mao's Great Leap Forward (1958-62) found much to smile about. 

 

 

VIII. 

 

Something else that isn't all that funny, is the infectious illness common among young children known as scarlet fever. Although it can now be treated with antibiotics, it was once a major cause of childhood mortality. 

 

Ultimately, no one wants to see anything other than a healthy looking pink tongue; any other colour - white, yellow, black, or scarlet - and I would suggest you go see your doctor. 

 

  

IX.

 

And finally, let us not forget she who is Scarlet Johansson ...

 

Woody Allen was fiercely criticised for describing this American actress whom he had cast in his 2005 film Match Point as sexually radioactive [3]. 

 

But then, Woody Allen is criticised by a lot of people for a lot of things he has said and (allegedly) done. And, if I'm being honest, I understand exactly what he means and doubt there would have been so much fuss were he not considerably older than her; i.e., it's a case of ageism masquerading as moralism.

 

 

The Scarlet Pimpernel Meets Scarlett Johansson 

(SA/2025)

  

  

Notes

 

[1] Quote from A Study in Scarlet (1887) by Arthur Conan Doyle. It is in this novel that the fictional detective Sherlock Holmes, ably assisted by Dr Watson, makes his first appearance. The line is spoken by Holmes, to Watson, in an attempt to define his role as a detective. 

      For me, part of the appeal of this line is it reverses the biblical idea of a scarlet thread as a symbol of redemption and divine grace (see the story of the harlot Rahab in the Book of Joshua). 

 

[2] Kermes is a genus of gall-like scale insects in the family Kermesidae. They feed on the sap of oaks and the females produce a red dye that was the original source of natural crimson. 

 

[3] Woody Allen, Apropos of Nothing (Arcade Publishing, 2020). 

      What Allen said in full was that Miss Johansson - who was nineteen when cast in Matchpoint - was "an exciting actress, a natural movie star, real intelligence, quick and funny, and when you meet her you have to fight your way through the pheromones ... Not only was she gifted and beautiful, but sexually she was radioactive." Allen was seventy when he made the film in 2005 and eighty-five when his memoir was published in 2020. 

      Whilst this is not meant to be a post about Woody Allen and the accusations of abuse made against him, I would like to say shame on all those at the Hatchette Book Group who played a part in preventing the book's original publication with Grand Central Publishing. 

      As for Johansson, whilst she has expressed displeasure at being hypersexualised, she has also admitted being flattered that people find her attractive. I think that the film critic Anthony Lane hits the nail on the head when he writes that she is "evidently, and profitably, aware of her sultriness, and of how much, down to the last inch, it contributes to the contours of her reputation". 

      See Lane's piece in The New Yorker entitled 'Her Again' (24 March, 2014), Vol. 90, No. 5, pp. 56-63.            

 

 

Three French Suicides: In Memory of Olga Georges-Picot, Christine Pascal, and Gilles Deleuze

Christine Pascal, Gilles Deleuze & Olga Georges-Picot

 

 

I.

 

Last night, on TV, they were showing one of my favourite films: the British psychological thriller written and directed by Basil Dearden and starring Roger Moore; The Man Who Haunted Himself (1970) [1]. 

 

There are many reasons to love this film, not least of all because it allows one to get a glimpse of the French actress Olga-Georges Picot in a very fetching black bra. She's luscious. She's ravishing. And there are some men who would happily give up red meat to be afforded an opportunity to perv [2] on this Franco-Russian beauty [3] - including Woody Allen, who cast her as Countess Alexandrovna in his 1975 film Love and Death.  

   

Whilst biographical information on her life and career seems to be limited and incomplete, we do know that she commited suicide in June 1997 by jumping from her 5th floor apartment overlooking the river Seine.

 

 

II. 

 

Olga Georges-Picot's death came less than a year after the death - also by suicide and also by jumping out of a window - of the brilliant French actress, writer and director Christine Pascal ... 

 

Interestingly, this multi-talented woman had often reflected philosophically on the question of suicide, and the first film she directed - Félicité (1979) [4] - opens with a suicide scene. Several years later, when asked by an interviewer how she would like to die, she replied: En me suicidant, le moment venu.

 

Well, that time came in August 1996, whilst receiving treatment at a psychiatric hospital in the Paris suburb of Garches [5]. Whether her suicide is best interpreted as a mad act by a mentally ill woman or a voluntary death by an unconventional woman with a penchant for transgressive behaviour is something I'll allow readers to decide [6].    

 

III.

Finally, let us remember Gilles Deleuze ... 

 

Deleuze was a philosopher very much admired by Pascal and one who, like her - and like Georges-Picot - also topped himself by jumping out of a window, when the respiratory conditions that he had long suffered from became increasingly severe [7].     

I remember the excitement news of this event generated in the Philosophy Dept. at Warwick, where I was doing my Ph.D at the time and had just started to read Deleuze's work seriously. Everyone wanted to know if his death came from within or without and pondered the question of whether it marked a loss of desire on his part, or whether the decision to terminate one's own individual existence as a way of affirming life indicates a final resurgence of vitality.  

 

In other words, was his suicide a logical way for Deleuze to show fidelity to his own philosophy, rather than merely a wish to end his suffering?

 

It remains an interesting question, I think ...       

 

 

Notes

 

[1] I have written about this in relation to Daphne du Maurier's 1957 novel The Scapegoat in a post entitled 'Never Give a Doppelgänger the Keys to Your Car ...' (17 June 2020): click here. 

[2] I'm paraphrasing George Costanza interviewing for a secretary in the season six episode of Seinfeld entitled 'The Secretary', (dir. D. Owen Trainor, 1998): click here.  

[3] Olga was was the daughter of Guillaume Georges-Picot, the French Ambassador to China, and a Russian mother, Anastasia Mironovich. She was born in Shanghai, in Japanese-occupied China, in January 1940. 

 

[4] Christine Pascal was born in Lyon in November 1953. She was given a starring role, aged twenty-one, in Michel Mitrani's Les Guichets du Louvre (1974). 

      The film portrays the infamous Vel' d'Hiv' Roundup in 1942, when French police assisted Nazi soldiers in the arrest of over 13,000 Jewish inhabitants of Paris and held them under inhumane conditions prior to their deportation to Auschwitz, where virtually all were murdered. Pascal played a young Jewish woman named Jeanne.

 

[5] Félicité was not only written and directed by Pascal, but she played the lead role too. It was a film that shocked many (even in France) with its explicit sexual content and provocative indecency and cemented her reputation as the mauvaise fille of French cinema.   

 

[6] Somewhat unfairly, I think, the psychiatrist who was caring for Pascal was sentenced in 2003 to twelve months in prison for failing to take appropriate action to prevent her suicide. 

 

[7] Deleuze, who had problems with his breathing even as a youngster, developed tuberculosis in 1968 and underwent surgery to remove a lung. In the final years of his life even writing became increasingly difficult and so, on 4 November 1995, aged seventy, he jumped to his death from the window of his Paris apartment.

 

On The Good, The Bad and the Ugly and Its Critics

The Good, The Bad and the Ugly by Billy Perkins

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966), directed by Sergio Leone and starring Clint Eastwood, Lee Van Cleef, and Eli Wallach in the title roles respectively is, according to Quentin Tarantino, the greatest film ever made.

He's not alone in this assessment; many people love it and name it as the purest example of cinematic art brought to a moment of absolute perfection thanks not only to the performances of the three stars and the directorial skills of Leone, but also the magnificent photography by Tonino Delli Colli and the famous score composed by Ennio Morricone.

It's surprising, therefore, to discover that upon its release it was met not with universal acclaim, but, on the contrary, fairly widespread hostility and critical disdain. Not only was the violence found objectionable, but the length of the film led some to label it dull and interminable. Meanwhile, the fact that it was an Italian re-imagining of a classically American art form - a so-called spaghetti western - led even Roger Ebert in his original review to deduct a star purely on the grounds that, as such, it could not be art.  

It was Italian-born Renata Adler, however, who really took against the movie in her New York Times review from 1968, dismissing it as "the most expensive, pious and repellent movie in the history of its peculiar genre". This is particularly disappointing coming as it does from the pen of a woman with a background in philosophy and comparative literature.

Disappointing too is the review of Pauline Kael in The New Yorker, published two months after that by Adler. Kael - described by some as the most influential film critic of her generation - called the film, garish, gruesome and stupid. She particularly objected to what she perceived as the mindless sadism and fascistic nihilism of the film in which all noble and heroic elements of the traditional (American) western have either been omitted or spat upon. 

What this demonstrates, I suppose, is that even very smart, very well-educated critics can sometimes get things very wrong; particularly when confronted with the genuinely New (i.e. that which comes to us from the future and shatters the past). 

One recalls in closing Woody Allen's remark about Kael to the effect that she has everything a film critic needs except judgement: 'She has great passion, terrific wit, wonderful writing style, huge knowledge of film history, but too often what she chooses to extol or fails to see is very surprising.'