I’ve been watching movies for all my life, to put it very simply. As a youth, coming across an unexpected TV viewing on a boring Sunday afternoon of François Truffaut’s Les 400 coups (The 400 Blows) practically changed my life. I demanded to know more, see more. I soon knew that there were many serious films out there and here I was, barely 12 years old, avidly watching stuff from Bergman, Fellini, Curtiz, Bava, Renoir, Lang, Kurosawa and going nuts. I still kept my love from trash and cult movies, however, mixing it all up in my head and creating an unique universe.

There was a point in my life where I sought out classic motion pictures, and this even before the advent of home video. I was mesmerized by many of these titles but as the years went by, more and more were scratched out of my list of must-sees. All this to say that it takes a lot to impress me these days and I can’t remember the last time that I lived through a cinematic experience that I can qualify as shaking me up. Until recently.

For the first time, I had the privilege of viewing Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger’s Black Narcissus, a 1947 British film about nuns trying to run a school/convent in the Himalayas. I knew that this project was still considered one of the best visually colored film of all time, so all depended on the print that was showing on commercial television (on the Silver Screen Classics channel, if you want to know, where the majority of movies shown are usually in rough shape). It took me less than five seconds to decide that this copy was faithful to the original vision and I stayed tuned, to be absolutely glued to the screen, in a perfect state of bliss and wonder.

For me, a Powell/Pressburger film has always been something that comes out of a parallel fantasy universe, be it for its visual contributions, witty and original characters and unexpected plot delights. The faultless performances, Jean Simmons’ 17 years old beauty, the haunting soundtrack and the fact that each frame is a real work of art worthy of being hung on a wall totally floored me. Who would’ve thought that a movie starring Deborah Kerr as a nun would so enthrall me? This is the sort of surprise that is always welcome in the life of a movie fan, especially when considering that these events come fewer and fewer as years go by. Want to see a masterpiece? Try Black Narcissus.

Yes, the English Rose herself has passed away on October 16, after a long battle with Parkinson’s disease. She has been nominated six times for an Academy Award as Best Actress, to finally receive an Honorary Oscar in 1993. Her glory mostly came from her ’50s work in Hollywood, being part of first-class productions like The King and I, An Affair to Remember and Separate Tables. A Grande Dame of the movies, for sure, but I never really connected with her characters, finding them a little on the boring side, I’m afraid. Still, my favorite performance from her remains Miss Giddens in The Innocents (they don’t make that kind of film anymore, whoever “they” are). I’ve been wanting for years to see Black Narcissus, though, which is considered by many to be her best work. Most memorable moment? What else but the love scene on the beach for From Here to Eternity, with then-current paramour Burt Lancaster? Deborah Kerr was also a Bond Girl (well, kind of) in the 1967 spoof Casino Royale.