‘Colorizers’: The Battle Between Ted Turner and Hollywood Over Adding Color to Timeless Films

Jimmy Stewart expressed his dissatisfaction.

In May 1987, Stewart—the immensely likable actor known for Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939) and It’s a Wonderful Life (1946), along with numerous other iconic films—sent a letter to Congress. He objected to the colorization of It’s a Wonderful Life, a process that transformed its original black-and-white visuals to suit the preferences of television networks.

Describing the alteration as akin to immersing the film in “a vat of Easter Egg dye,” Stewart declared it “inappropriate, utterly inappropriate ... offensive and unjust.”

Stewart’s heartfelt letter echoed his iconic performance in Mr. Smith, where his character fought for political reform. He was supported by prominent figures like George Lucas, Joe Dante, John Huston, and Orson Welles, all of whom condemned what they saw as the defacement of their art. This issue became Hollywood’s hottest debate. At the center stood Ted Turner, a rising media tycoon who appeared to thrive on the controversy. Unfazed, he revealed intentions to colorize two cinematic masterpieces: Citizen Kane (1941) and Casablanca (1942).

“As far as I’m concerned, I own the films we’re colorizing,” Turner remarked in 1986. “I have the right to do as I please with them, and if they’re airing on TV, they’ll be in color.”

Color Commentary

By 1985, Ted Turner was managing a vast media empire. His groundbreaking news network, CNN, revolutionized information consumption, while TBS, his “Superstation,” capitalized on the growing cable industry. Seeking expansion, Turner purchased MGM. Finding it too cumbersome, he sold the studio but retained its extensive film library for $1.2 billion.

Turner gained ownership of 3650 films, encompassing titles from Warner Bros. (pre-1950) and RKO. His goal was to populate his network’s schedule and generate revenue by licensing these films to other outlets.

Classics such as King Kong (1933), Topper (1937), The Maltese Falcon (1941), and others were prized assets, but Turner felt their black-and-white format limited their profitability. By then, most households owned color TVs, which made color programming and rentals more appealing. Networks also favored color content, as it attracted higher advertising revenue.

Viewers seemed to agree. A distributor reported selling 46,000 black-and-white Shirley Temple VHS tapes, but the color versions sold 1.2 million copies. Similarly, the colorized version of It’s a Wonderful Life sold 80,000 copies, far outpacing the 5000 sales of the original, despite being three times more expensive.

(Although Turner became synonymous with colorization, he didn’t actually colorize It’s a Wonderful Life. That process was completed before he acquired RKO, carried out by Hal Roach Studios under its Colorization division in 1985. Director Frank Capra initially approved the change but later reconsidered.)

To address the issue, Turner enlisted Color Systems Technology, a firm specializing in media “colorization.” The original footage was converted to tape, with color applied frame by frame—a procedure that could span up to eight weeks, depending on the number of technicians involved. The results were inconsistent, often marred by lingering gray tones. Vincent Canby of The New York Times criticized the outcome, stating: “The films resemble tinted Victorian postcards.”

For Turner, however, any color was preferable to none. The cost of colorizing a film ranged from $180,000 to $250,000, and Turner planned to apply the process to 60 to 100 titles. Hollywood reacted with outrage.

Tinted Vision

John Huston was among the earliest and most vocal critics. The director of The Maltese Falcon and The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948), despite his failing health, made a heartfelt appeal from his wheelchair. Others echoed his sentiments, emphasizing an artist’s “moral right” to protect their work from alterations. Billy Wilder and George Lucas also voiced their opposition, with Lucas passionately arguing against tampering with films. (His remarks would later draw scrutiny due to his extensive revisions to the Star Wars series. However, Lucas made those changes himself, unlike the colorization controversy.)

When Turner argued that the issue was more about practicality—suggesting that filmmakers would have embraced color had it been widely accessible—he faced pushback. Richard Brooks, director of the 1967 adaptation of Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood, emphasized that he had chosen black and white deliberately, despite studio objections.

“In Cold Blood was a tale of horror; I believed it demanded the starkness of black and white,” Brooks stated. “If they add vibrant colors, they might as well remove the final scene. Perhaps some TV audiences don’t want to see an execution. Where does it stop?”

Others, including Jimmy Stewart, argued that colorization went beyond superficial changes. It had the potential to undermine the original artistic vision.

“Gloria Graham portrayed a character named Violet, so someone decided it would be clever to dress her entirely in violet,” Stewart’s letter explained, referencing a character in It's a Wonderful Life. “Such a blatant visual pun is something Frank Capra would never have entertained.”

Orson Welles, who learned of Turner’s plans before his death in 1985, was brutally candid, urging a colleague to stop Turner from “coloring my movie with his crayons.” A new term emerged in media circles: Turner and his allies were labeled “colorizers.”

Turner, however, remained resolute. He argued that colorization was no different from TV networks editing films for time constraints or censoring content. He dismissed the notion of films as untouchable art, emphasizing that he owned the rights and could do as he wished.

“I prefer color,” he stated. “We experience the world in color. If historical accuracy is so important, why wasn’t The Sting filmed in black-and-white? I don’t understand their argument.”

The debate intensified in 1988 when Turner unveiled a colorized version of Casablanca, which many critics found deeply troubling. Roger Ebert described it as “one of the most disheartening moments in cinematic history,” noting that the nuanced lighting, crucial to the film’s emotional impact, was lost in the altered version.

“[Ingrid] Bergman’s face is shadowed when her intentions are unclear, and becomes brighter as her motives are revealed,” he explained. “Adding the colorizer’s pinks and tans distracts from this subtlety, flattening the contrast between light and shadow. The result is a less dramatic, visually bland film that loses its emotional depth.”

The film industry even pushed for the government to establish a National Film Commission, aimed at safeguarding films deemed historically significant and requiring “colorizers” to clearly mark altered films, potentially with a revised title. Though this never came to fruition, it demonstrated the lengths creators were willing to go to protect their work.

Color Correction

Initially, colorized films attracted strong viewership. The extensive media coverage, which doubled as free publicity, undoubtedly piqued public interest in how these classics would appear in color.

“Nearly everyone in America is aware of colorization,” Turner remarked. “The backlash served as excellent publicity. Many younger viewers would never have discovered these older films without the uproar.”

The venture was also lucrative. The initial 12 colorized films brought Turner an average of $900,000 each from networks licensing them for one-year broadcasts.

However, it wasn’t an outright triumph. While legislative efforts failed, other obstacles hindered Turner’s plans. Huston, for instance, succeeded in barring Turner from airing his film The Asphalt Jungle (1950) in France, securing a court order in 1988. (Despite this, Maltese Falcon and Treasure of the Sierra Madre were colorized.) Additionally, due to the stringent terms in Welles’s contract for Citizen Kane, Turner dropped plans to colorize the film. (A legal battle was uncertain but posed a risk Turner preferred to avoid.)

Turner expanded colorization to cartoons like Popeye, targeting younger audiences. However, while children embraced the change, adults remained unconvinced. After an initial surge, interest in colorized classics waned, making the costly process harder to justify. By the 1990s, both major U.S. colorization companies, CST and American Film Technologies, had filed for bankruptcy. (CST later reemerged under new management.)

Turner shifted focus to celebrating films in their original form. His Turner Classic Movies channel, which launched in 1994, showcased the MGM library in black and white, accompanied by historical insights. Critics who had once condemned his alterations now acknowledged that his efforts helped preserve and market these films. Though driven by profit, the outcome ensured the survival of many fragile cinematic treasures.

Turner eventually sold his media empire to Time Warner in 1996. Reflecting on the colorization debate in 2019, he stated to Variety: “I don’t regret it because I never believed it was wrong, and I still don’t, though we faced significant criticism back then.”

Today, filmmakers have the freedom to choose between black-and-white and color formats, with many opting for the former. David Fincher’s Mank (2020) was shot in black and white; Zack Snyder released a monochrome version of his 2017 blockbuster, Justice League; and Bong Joon Ho presented a black-and-white edition of his Oscar-winning Parasite (2019). These decisions, however, were made by the creators themselves.

“It might sound vain, but when I imagine classic films, they’re always in black and white,” Joon Ho remarked. “So I thought if I converted my movies to black and white, they might achieve that same timeless status.”