MCN Columnists

By Andrea Gronvall andreagronvall@aol.com

The Gronvall Files: Richard Press and Philip Gefter: Partners Behind Documentary Bill Cunningham New York

By Andrea Gronvall

As a breed, film critics are generally sartorially challenged, but I’ll freely admit to enjoying Vogue, Vanity Fair, and the style coverage in The New York Times–particularly the “On the Street” column that’s photographed, written, and composed by the paper’s long-time fashion chronicler Bill Cunningham.

A colorful collage revealing trends Cunningham spots while bicycling around the city, the page nearly throbs as the reader’s eye is drawn by one well-placed shot to the next. Now the man who charts the tastes of Manhattan’s best–or most daringly–dressed is the subject of a new documentary from indie distributor Zeitgeist Films (another arbiter of taste), called—what else?–Bill Cunningham New York.

The movie is the latest in a flow of documentaries about the fashion world, including Lagerfeld Confidential, Valentino: The Last Emperor, Unzipped (about Isaac Mizrahi), and two by David Teboul and another by Pierre Thorentton about Yves Saint Laurent. Anna Wintour, profiled in The September Issue, has often been photographed by Cunningham and pops up in this new film.

During a recent phone interview with director Richard Press and producer Philip Gefter, I wondered that if fashion is dead, as many–from the New York Post’s Andrea Peyser to former French Marie Claire editor and chief Catherine Lardeur–have declared, why are so many still interested in tracking it?

“I guess I would have to say that fashion isn’t dead,” Press countered, and Gefter pointed out, “Look at the front page of The New York Times during Fashion Week. Look at the difference from five years ago in how fashion is covered; now it’s up front, whereas it used to be consigned to the back pages of the paper.” Press then jumped in (the two, who in addition to being professional partners are married, tend to complete each other’s sentences): “We’re living in an age where it’s about self-expression. It’s very much about how you present yourself, and fashion is about how you present yourself, like on your iPhone or Facebook page.”

It took eight years for the filmmakers, who both knew Cunningham from working with him at the Times, just to convince the famously private journalist to agree to the project. Their admiration and affection for their subject is evident throughout: eccentric he may be, but although at 82 years young he’s long past retirement age, his passion and work ethic don’t flag.

Nor does his insistence on precisely conveying his particular visions, which comes across in increasingly funny scenes with John Kurdewan, the computer wiz who helps Bill assemble his column for print–and who might be able to tell Job a thing or two about patience. As Cunningham jokes, wheedles, and needles, pushing for the exact thing he wants and settling for nothing less (sometimes even past deadline), Kurdewan takes it in stride with quips like “Where’s the love today, Bill?”

Press recalls, “When I freelanced at the Times as an art director, I actually helped Bill do his page. But my creative satisfaction came from making movies. Most of the other art directors wanted to take his photos and make it into what they wanted to do.” Gefter, who was a staffer for 15 years at the paper, in positions ranging from Page One Picture Editor to Senior Picture Editor for Culture, elaborates, “It took years for the Times to realize that Bill should be working with technicians, not art directors. Bill is the author of his page; no one assigns him to go out and write whatever.”

Cunningham has other long-ingrained habits, most of which have served him well. He travels everywhere on his Schwinn bike, his 27th; his previous 26 bikes were all stolen. For “On the Street,” he prefers to snap his subjects unaware and not posing (Press and his only other crew member, cameraman Tony Cenicola, did likewise, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible as they followed Bill). From among the piles of invitations Cunningham receives for the society events he covers for his other Times column, “Evening Hours,” he selects only those events staged in the name of causes he deems worthy. And he’s not fazed by celebrity journalism; the film shows him declining to photograph Catherine Deneuve because he finds her dress unremarkable; clothes, not their wearers, are what intrigue him. Press points out that for Cunningham’s first Times column, published in 1978, Bill had three photos of Greta Garbo, “but he didn’t even know it was Garbo; he just really liked her coat!”

As discreet and modest as he is on the streets or mingling at charity bashes, Cunningham is not to be underestimated when he’s sitting front row at the couturiers’ runways; more than once he’s recognized a dress as one copied from another designer’s collection of years ago. “He can trace the history of women’s clothes from the 1600s, and speak in full paragraphs off the top of his head,” Press says. “Anna Wintour understands why it’s important.”

Cunningham’s talent, persistence, stamina, encyclopedic knowledge, and spartan lifestyle all impress, but what’s also manifest in Bill Cunningham New York is his enthusiasm and sense of joy. I asked the filmmakers if they felt joy while making the movie.

Gefter: “I think we aimed for that joy and we reached it. Following Bill meant we had to adopt a more organic approach. Also, navigating Bill, and I mean that in the best sense, was not always wonderful, and we had to sort it out, and learn how to read him. Although after making this film, I don’t think marriage counselors would necessarily advise their clients to work together on a movie.”

Press: “We built a house together, but working together is a very different dynamic than being a couple. The first six months of production was a learning curve. When it was frustrating, it was frustrating, but when Bill was in the mood, it was wonderful. It’s like photographing a rare species, and in a way it’s mirroring his process. And the thing about joy: Bill is so joyful, that I wanted to capture that. For me, what is so special about him is his joy, and how he lives his life. It could have been a very different movie, much more laden with facts, but that’s not what he’s about.”

Bill Cunningham New York is currently playing at at the Nuart in Los Angeles this weekend, before it begins a platform rollout across the country. For a calendar of cities and play dates, go to: http://www.zeitgeistfilms.com/theatrical.php

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“Let me try and be as direct as I possibly can with you on this. There was no relationship to repair. I didn’t intend for Harvey to buy and release The Immigrant – I thought it was a terrible idea. And I didn’t think he would want the film, and I didn’t think he would like the film. He bought the film without me knowing! He bought it from the equity people who raised the money for me in the States. And I told them it was a terrible idea, but I had no say over the matter. So they sold it to him without my say-so, and with me thinking it was a terrible idea. I was completely correct, but I couldn’t do anything about it. It was not my preference, it was not my choice, I did not want that to happen, I have no relationship with Harvey. So, it’s not like I repaired some relationship, then he screwed me again, and I’m an idiot for trusting him twice! Like I say, you try to distance yourself as much as possible from the immediate response to a movie. With The Immigrant I had final cut. So he knew he couldn’t make me change it. But he applied all the pressure he could, including shelving the film.”
James Gray

“I’m an unusual producer because I control the destiny of a lot of the films I’ve done. Most of them are in perfect states of restoration and preservation and distribution, and I aim to keep them in distribution. HanWay Films, which is my sales company, has a 500-film catalogue, which is looked after and tended like a garden. I’m still looking after my films in the catalogue and trying to get other people to look after their films, which we represent intellectually, to try to keep them alive. A film has to be run through a projector to be alive, unfortunately, and those electric shadows are few and far between now. It’s very hard to go and see films in a movie house. I was always involved with the sales and marketing of my films, right up from The Shout onwards. I’ve had good periods, but I also had a best period because the film business was in its best period then. You couldn’t make The Last Emperor today. You couldn’t make The Sheltering Sky today. You couldn’t make those films anymore as independent films. There are neither the resources nor the vision within the studios to go to them and say, “I want to make a film about China with no stars in it.”Then, twenty years ago, I thought, “OK, I’m going to sell my own films but I don’t want to make it my own sales company.” I wanted it to be for me but I wanted to make it open for every other producer, so they don’t feel that they make a film but I get the focus. So, it’s a company that is my business and I’m involved with running it in a certain way, but I’m not seen as a competitor with other people that use it. It’s used by lots of different producers apart from me. When I want to use it, however, it’s there for me and I suppose I’m planning to continue making all my films to be sold by HanWay. I don’t have to, but I do because it’s in my building and the marketing’s here, and I can do it like that. Often, it sounds like I’m being easy about things, but it’s much more difficult than it sounds. It’s just that I’ve been at it for a long time and there’s lots of fat and security around my business. I know how to make films, but it’s not easy—it’s become a very exacting life.”
~ Producer Jeremy Thomas