Jack and I loved this documentary about the fashion photographer several weeks ago. Now it's scheduled for our suburban theatre and you should know about it. Regular readers of the Sunday New York Times are familiar with Cunningham's columns, "Evening Hours" and "On the Street." Now 82, he has been photographing Manhattan people and their outfits for decades. Shots of him in his younger days are mixed with current footage. He and the movie are a study in contrasts: in black and white and glorious color, he is cheerful yet opinionated, elfin yet tall, gregarious (with a patrician accent not unlike Spalding Gray's) yet private, he is obsessed with fashion but wears only utilitarian clothes himself. He rides his bicycle around the city, sometimes with a reflective vest over his Mao jacket, and hunkers down over a sandwich before attending a lavish banquet. His Spartan lifestyle reminded me of my father Warren, who preferred a mattress on a plank to a pillowtop bed and raw vegetables to fine dining, and, like Cunningham, was extremely intelligent and judgemental.
Cunningham's apartment in Carnegie Hall is another fascinating part of the picture and I won't give away the details in case you don't know them. The movie is dotted with celebrities and colorful characters talking about themselves, their clothes, and Cunningham. We liked the music that accompanies the movie, but my memory of it has fallen victim to the ravages of April, and there's no list online of the songs, so you'll have to take my word for it. Directed and shot by Richard Press in his feature debut (additional photography by Tony Cenicola, also his debut), this is highly entertaining and fully recommended.
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