Many have viewed his photographs while browsing through the The New York Times, yet most cannot put a face to the name – which is why director Richard Press has decided to dig deep into the mysterious life of Bill Cunningham, street style photographer for The New York Times.

Fascinating and deeply moving, the documentary features interviews with Vogue Editor-in-Chief, Anna Wintour, acclaimed author Tom Wolfe, Cunningham’s wacky, yet lovable neighbour Edita and The New York Times publisher, Arthur Sulzberger Jr.

What is most captivating about the movie is its noticeable contradiction of Cunningham’s two columns, one called Evening Hours in which Cunningham photographs the rich and famous of New York, and the other On the Street, where he races around New York on his 29^th bike (the other 28 were stolen) in hopes of catching regular everyday people wearing fabulous and exotic clothing.

“The best fashion show has always been on the streets, it always has been and always will be,” said Cunningham.“The problem is I’m not a good photographer,” he said about himself.

”To be perfectly honest, I’m too shy. Not aggressive enough. Well, I’m not aggressive at all. I just loved to see wonderfully dressed women, and I still do. That’s all there is to it.”

The other stark contradiction shown is Cunningham’s ability to disappear in a crowd of celebrities and high society, and yet he refuses to mirror the lifestyle of the rich and famous.

Cunningham has resided in the same studio apartment in Carnegie Hall with barely any furniture and numerous file cabinets filled with every single picture he has ever taken. Even with his love of fashion, Cunningham simply wears the same $20 dollar parka day in and day out. Despite his lack of fashion sense, Cunningham has managed to spot and start trends with his photography for the last 50 years.

“If we all went out looking a slob like me, the world would be a pretty dreary world,” said Cunningham.“I’m not interested in celebrities with their free dresses, I’m interested in clothes.”

The 82-year-old has been a presence on the streets and in various publications for over 50 years and is recognized as the true pioneer of street style photography. Although the press and media do their best to dig deep into his past, much of Cunningham’s life remains a mystery such as his non-existent romantic life. Yet the film ends leaving the audience with a sense of respect for his love affair with his work and for all the fashionable street strangers.

Bill Cunningham New York will be playing at the Globe Cinema until June 9^th

Image courtesy of First Thought Films

Words by Christine Bassit

The directorial debut of A Single Man by Tom Ford follows a day in the life of George Falconer, sublimely played by Colin Firth. It has been eight months since the death of his partner, and Falconer has lost the will to live.

A glittering black pistol reveals his last day and we ride shotgun as he faces encounters with students, gigolos, neighbors, and old, gin soaked friends. The cast includes Julianne Moore as the best- friend, Matthew Goode, turning in a surprisingly real performance as Falconer’s deceased lover, and Nicholas Hoult (the titular boy in About a Boy) as a lustful student.

Everybody here displays their craft in top- most form, reserving every action to a work of art. The score is darkly calming and as one would expect from Tom Ford, the cinematography is breath taking.

As sharp as it may be, A Single Man isn’t a matter of style versus substance, though the argument has been made on both sides. Instead, it falls into another category, an exercise of form and function.

The characters found in A Single Man all have their problems. In the beginning when we meet our main character, there is talk of  pain held in the present, and for the first time in his life, Falconer can “see his character.” Each character we meet refuses to live in the world of the present, shifting instead between dual realms of the  past and the future. The refusal of the present, emotion, and life, leads to an emptiness. Characters of the film are left with only ghosts and wishes dressed in grand style to present a perfect imago. So dazzling images become accomplices in this glass life, and though the movie succeeds on this level because of this, it fails to move beyond.

The score, which, pushes the isolation of the world; and the keen acting, which illuminates the real loss and falsehood in every melancholic line, pushes the viewer into a realm where we may not find much, but understand exactly what we’re supposed to.The haziness, the mistrust leave a cold feeling inside with no specific source.

Dress it all up in garish costume and surround yourself with status defining design and hope no one asks. You can’t help but wonder if this is a feeling Ford has felt for years, and has pushed himself to address in A Single Man.

What was found may not be what was hoped for and though the film ends on a happy note, realistically, any answers to questions have been  placed within it’s own cold truth.

Levi Meaden

A Single Man is now playing at Eau Claire Market (200 Barclay Parade, SW)

- Also written for online  publication at Beatroute Magazine

Vogue Magazine looks stressful. That’s the one thing I could be sure about after watching The September Issue.

It may be my inherent laziness or the egos at the magazine that draw me to this conclusion. But after watching the documentary about Vogue’s huge 2007 September edition, I couldn’t help but feel tired for the people running around the magazines offices.

It really is a testament to film maker, R.J. Cutler, who packs so much energy into this fashion world that I feel like it’s a Tuesday in the 3rd grade, and I still have most of the week to go till the weekend.

The documentary centers around Vogue’s biggest issue yet, which makes it the biggest magazine of all time, literally. Weighing in at almost 5 pounds and 840 pages, this behemoth magazine shatters the record previously held by… wait for it… another Vogue September issue. While this may sound a little negative towards the futility of the whole thing, it’s not.

The film itself is quite enjoyable, even if it’s mostly on a visceral level. It’s like a tide pool, not very deep, but a hell of a lot of fun to look at. People scurry this way and that in a delicate eco- system that supports a surprising amount of life, trying to make all the pieces fit. All under the fashionable eyes of one elegant tyrant, Anna Wintour.

Those that have done their home work will know that Anna Wintour is the basis for Miranda Priestly, the antagonizing editor from The Devil Wears Prada. Wintour, in an effort to shake off the caricature, shows a surprising amount of herself here. But she can only lend out so much and in the end, remains un- explored.

The movie starts out roving around the offices of Vogue. It soon comes to rest on more interesting subjects than simply clothes which, don’t worry, always remain a diligent subject. As ideas flow, and tensions run high the camera comes to settle more and more on the confrontations between two people, Mrs. Wintour and Vogue’s creative director Grace Coddington.

Both women herald from England, and began work at American Vogue at the same time, coming over from the British counter part. They’ve learned to live with each other, and while everyone else bows to Queen Wintour’s every wish, we find that Ms. Coddington is the only person who, repeatedly, stands up to her. While there’s no love lost between the two women, it doesn’t take much to tell that there is great respect. The film continues to remain a fly on the wall through the magazines five month journey to print. Interspersing interviews with various employees and designers to fill in some history and story surrounding the issue, and always more than willing to show the heart break of such demanding work.

The hardest thing to shake about the film is that The September Issue seems more a reaction to The Devil Wears Prada than a film all to itself. While the cameras are always rolling, it never really shies much away from the glamour, and tends to want to humanize Anna Wintour as much as possible. It does succeed partially on this front, there are allusions that make you feel for Wintour and she certainly becomes human in the viewers eyes, but she can never quite shake off the ice queen persona that surrounds her.

One can tell, especially when she talks about her family, that this is a barrier she has built up for years and she’s not letting it down anytime soon. Meanwhile we begin to learn about Grace Coddington. A model at one time, a car accident had left her partially disfigured.

Two years and some plastic surgery later, Grace had lifted herself into a junior editor position at the British Vogue and there’s a resilience that lies in this woman that won’t allow for anyone to take anything from her. Thus there is conflict.

Seemingly, this is where the only conflict comes from. While an issue this big would have to run into problems along it’s road, most are skittered around. It’s really only when Wintour cancels Coddington’s work that things begin to show even the slightest bit of heat. This never really amounts to much but a straight forward confession to camera, or a friend, and a few times things are put back right, but nothing ever boils over.

It’s a refined world though and one should never expect it to. The biggest problem is simply that, while the clothes and models look beautiful, I’m not sure if there’s any emotional truth in it at all. Many of the women at Vogue are in very powerful positions, in fact Wintour has been called the un- official mayoress of New York, and at one point early in the movie is remarked upon as “The most powerful woman in the United States.”

For anyone to achieve this amount of success, would take certain distance and walls.

Though it can be hard to spot there are moments of emotion, I’m just not sure if they are real, or simply public relations. The greatest triumph on this front stems from a rather heartwarming side story involving rookie designer Thakoon Panichgul being given a shot thanks to Anna Wintour. This small side story is very in- consequential to the film as a whole, but watching Thakoon’s reaction is more beautiful than all the models and layouts combined, and for at least a moment in the film, you feel a very human connection.

The highest stakes, as far as the emotion seems to go in the film, ride on the question of whether the fashion is actually important at all. In a hushed tone at one point in the film Anna Wintour’s daughter, in another room, explains to the camera she wants nothing to do with the fashion world; she doesn’t get it. She isn’t disrespectful in the least, and earlier when in front of her mother she alludes to this fact, we feel as though this has been an on going conversation. And towards the end we learn that it appears Wintours siblings do not think much of her job.

This is one point of extreme honesty for Wintour as she explains, while her brothers and sister find it cute, they don’t appear to stack it up against their own achievements. It’s obviously a point of pain for Wintour, and the movie never really decides to make a comment on it. It simply goes through the motions, a fly on the wall, and tries not to rouse any suspicions. As though the viewer may realize that trying to make a bigger, better version of their September magazine is as fruitless as possibly the world they’ve created for themselves.

But if this were true, many people wouldn’t look at the pages in awe. The truth is, while those that don’t get it never will understand the fashion, it shouldn’t matter to those that do. It’s a passion that can run high and free in the dreams and minds of many people. Dreams of a glamorous world where offices are stocked with beautiful models and clothes.

The funny thing is this: The people at Vogue are not what you’d expect. Although some are garishly dressed and flamboyant, such as Andre Leon Talley, most look dressed as they would in any office North America over. A little shabby, a little paunchy, and a lot tired. It raises an interesting question to what this world actually is, and while it gives you a glimpse, a full grasp is never achieved.

And so it goes. The movie gives you a taste, a glimmer of the life and puffs it full of a little bit of drama, but there isn’t enough of anything to distract from the fashion, from the clothes, from the beauty.

I suppose in the end, a documentary about Vogue should focus on just that.

Words by Levi Meaden