An American in Paris introduces its two central characters through contrasting use of colors. Jerry appears around earthy browns, soft white in his small apartment. These are tones that make him feel grounded and approachable. From the very beginning of the film, he seems already woven into the rhythms of his neighborhood. Lise, by contrast, will appear in a brighter, lighter, and far more stylized tone, making her a figure of elegance rather than everyday life. These differences in color are not accidental, but are oriented to the character shaping. The film uses color to indicate two distinct images, and to set up the visual and emotional tension between the two characters that will lead the rest of the story. It is worth then paying our attention to the film’s introduction of Jerry—in fact, Jerry’s introduction of himself—where color quietly establishes who he is and his position in Paris.
Jerry Mulligan (played by Gene Kelly) is an American painter and war veteran living in Paris after World War II. He is creative, energetic, and somewhat playful, trying to establish himself in the city's art circle. Jerry first appears on screen shortly after the opening credits, following an overview of Paris that features its grandeur and iconic landmarks. Jerry’s entrance sharply shifts the tone. Instead of the magnificent buildings and architectures, we now move into the vividness of his neighborhood, and the intimacy of his small apartment. Here, the palette turns warm and earthy: worn brown furniture, beige walls and door frames, and his simple white striped pajamas. Nothing in this space carries the grandeur of the landmarks just presented. The browns have the tones of secondhand objects, while the whites softly provide a gentle contrast, creating harmony in the scene. Instead of suggesting a lack, these colors render Jerry a common touch, as if he has settled into this neighborhood not as a visitor but as someone who has learned to live comfortably within its rhythm.
Color plays a crucial role in Jerry's first appearance, making him feel tangible and real. With these warm, earthy tones, he looks like someone who wakes up, eats breakfast, cracks a joke with his neighbors, and heads out to paint—he is not a distant rising star in Paris art world, but a cheerful and common young American pursuing his passion in the city he loves. At the same time, these colors also prepare us for our visual experiences ahead. Jerry’s grounded palette provides the foundation for the films' more stylized fantasies later. He is the stable ground that will soon support the city to grow brighter, more musical, and more imaginative in the following scenes. Although the color design in this first moment is simple, it is precisely the simplicity that harmonizes the city and gradually connects the members of this community.
If Jerry’s introduction grounds him in a stable world of warm browns and whites, Lise Bouvier (played by Leslie Caron) enters in almost the opposite way. She is first introduced not by herself, but through the enthusiastic descriptions of Henri, a singer and Lise's boyfriend. From this introduction, we learn that Lise is 19 years old, she loves dancing and works in a perfume shop. Yet, her personality remains confusing in these first moments. In a series of imagined dancing scenes that accompany Henri's description of Lise's personality, she takes on several different colors and moods, shifting across various scenes. At one point, she is described as a “very spiritual type,” wearing light pink and dancing against a deep blue backdrop; at another, she appears exciting and provocative in violet; in a third, she seems sweet and shy, dressed in a soft pastel yellow surrounded by dark green. She is vivacious in one scene, dancing in a flamboyantly red setting, and then fall into deep ponder of a book around a quiet yellow. Each word of introduction outfits her in a different costume, a different palette, and a different style of movement—none of them adds up to a single, stable identity. Lise is presented as a series of possibilities rather than a concrete person. While Jerry wakes up in white pajamas in his brown and beige apartment, performing an immediately readable character, Lise appears as a series of shifting figures, flashing across memories and fantasies.
This introduction frames Lise as someone whose identity seems not present in the physical world in the same way as Jerry’s. Her colors are brighter, more stylized, and hardly rest on any single environment. In Henri’s descriptions, she becomes a performer who can be anyone as long as the moment requires, even if each of them contradict with each other. The transformations of Lise in these scenes do not simply demonstrate her versatility; moreover, they indicate the film’s intention to locate Lise on a different scale to reality. If Jerry’s simple colors suggests approachability, Lise’s kaleidoscope of colors suggests fantasy: it is something imagined, varied, even unattainable, yet still provokes people to figure out.
The contrast between Jerry and Lise aligns with what Rick Altman describes as the dual-focus narrative of the American film musical. Rather than centering on the linear development of a single protagonist, the musical often balances two characters who embody distinct energies and values. Their differences create the dramatic tension that the musical ultimately seeks to resolve: each of them must eventually “adopt the characteristics of the other” (Altman 20).
In An American in Paris, color becomes the earliest and most visualized sign of this structure. Jerry is the accessible American, defined by grounded color tones. His warm, stable palette situates him in a world of modest optimism, marking him as a figure of postwar American confidence. Lise, by contrast, is the fantasized figure, defined by shifting images and imaginations of the men around her. Moreover, Lise is also an idea the film invites its audience to assemble through the series of images—like the overview of Paris at the beginning of this film—a fantasy shaped by color, costume, and motion.
Color thus assigns each of them a distinct symbolic role. While Jerry belongs to a realistic setting of breakfast and narrow attic, Lise belongs to a Paris of shifting scenes and imagined roles. This contrast is where the foundation of the dual-focus narrative is built. It establishes the film’s emotional rhythm long before the plot brings them into direct contact. It also invites the expectation that the musical will eventually draw these two color-worlds together, and that something transformative will happen on both sides when these two contrasting figures finally meet.
As Paris becomes the major destination of American tourism in the postwar era, Lise’s entrance operates in much the same way that American tourists were encouraged to fantasize the city. Rather than presenting Paris as a concrete, everyday place, postwar tourism culture promoted it as an object of imagination. In a guidebook written for American tourist, Vincent Cronin emphasizes:
“A last word in a different key. To enjoy Paris, there is one thing you should bring with you: plenty of imagination. It is not a literal or factual city. It cannot be adequately photographed. It cannot be reduced to statistics or even to words of unambiguous meaning. Nor approached tensely, as a chore to be done. The appropriate mood, it seems to me, is gaiety, fantasy—unlimited fantasy—and a willingness to fall in love” (Cronin 1963).
One of Pan American’s Paris posters echoes Cronin’s deliberate blurring of Paris, reducing the city into floating landmarks, soft blocks of color, and a stylized Parisienne who exists more as a symbol than a person. These advertisements avoid concrete detail: every element is designed to evoke a vague yet alluring mood. Paris, in this visual approach, becomes not of a real place for down-to-earth Parisian to live, but a fantasy for American tourist to explore, to experience, and to consume.