Ever wondered how a simple paint swatch could revolutionize the world? Imagine a time when 'red' meant something different to everyone—until one man changed everything. Meet Lawrence Herbert, the 96-year-old mastermind behind the Pantone Color System, a global language of color that transformed industries from fashion to film. His story is the heart of The King of Color, a documentary that’s equal parts biography, history lesson, and visual feast. But here’s where it gets controversial: is Herbert a visionary genius or a self-centered storyteller? Let’s dive in.
The Pantone Color System, with its whimsical names like sea mist and papaya punch, is more than just a tool—it’s a universal translator for hues. Before Herbert’s invention, color was a chaotic patchwork, with printers and artists interpreting shades differently. His breakthrough? The split fountain press, a marvel that could print 28 colors simultaneously in precise, parallel lines. This innovation didn’t just standardize color; it democratized it, allowing designers, painters, and filmmakers to communicate shades like oyster gray and moonless night with absolute confidence. Herbert himself calls it ‘a dictionary of color.’
Directed by Patrick Creadon and produced by Christine O’Malley, The King of Color is a deep dive into Herbert’s life and legacy. But it’s not your typical documentary. The film is as much a character study as it is a history of 20th-century color printing technology. While it’s granular—sometimes veering into math that might leave liberal arts majors scratching their heads—the filmmakers use animation, archival footage, and clever visuals to keep things engaging. And this is the part most people miss: the film is essentially Herbert’s official portrait, commissioned by the man himself in his mid-nineties to ensure his story is told his way. One of his adult children even quips, ‘It seems a little self-centered, frankly.’
But is it? The film doesn’t shy away from Herbert’s flaws. His recollections of key moments—like his midlife crisis, which ended his marriage, or his traumatic experiences as a Korean War soldier—feel self-serving at times, with a dash of hyperbole. Yet, these personal stories are undeniably engrossing, especially when paired with hand-drawn illustrations and old-school animation that remind us we’re hearing one man’s version of events. It’s a smart, lighthearted film that leaves you seeing the world in finer shades—literally and metaphorically.
But here’s the question: Is Herbert’s legacy a triumph of innovation, or does his desire to control his narrative overshadow his achievements? Let us know in the comments—we’d love to hear your take!
