David Teboul’s two-part documentary on the legendary fashion designer, Yves St. Laurent, is a not entirely unsuccessful foray into the realm of cinematic biography. But to be entirely fair and accurate, the two films: Yves St. Laurent : His Life and Times and Yves St. Laurent: 5 Avenue Marceau are miles apart in competency and allure. I assumed they were intended to be viewed in tandem but will be shown individually, each sold on a different ticket.. Life and Times is an absorbing, frank account of Laurent’s adventurous, tempestuous life and career, and his seminal impact on fashion, culture and society. 5 Avenue Marceau, is a turgid chamber piece that could arguably stand as the prime example of imitative fallacy. It runs 85 minutes but seems to stretch endlessly. It is more than coincidence that the former is comprised chiefly of discovered footage and the latter, exclusively Teboul’s.5 Avenue Marceau opens with Catherine Deneuve trying on dresses and deciding what she wants. For a famous actress and world-class beauty she looks decidedly plain, a tactical approach reflected in both films. Considering the subject, the glamour quotient of the YSL films is pretty low, but it works well and keeps the result from being insipid. This sequence goes on for awhile, Deneuve discusses skirt length, color choices, fabric options, the need for pleats. She chats with the staff, sharing an anecdote about her pet hens, and when she finishes making her choices, cheerily departs. Eventually we get the idea (the point is made repeatedly throughout) that perfection requires time, perseverance and dedication. Deneuve’s outing serves as a prologue to the film: a prolonged, stultifying look behind the scenes in the townhouse where Laurent prepares his upcoming collection.
The camera remains at a considerable distance for most of 5 Avenue Marceau, composing shots that often have the look of classical paintings in their arrangement, capturing clusters of assistants hovering around models, often using mirrors to split the screen or deepen the depth of field. The problem though, is often as not, Teboul is not using the camera to tell the story. He knows how to make interesting and attractive pictures, but we don’t sense their connection to the content.
The other problem is the interminable, static shots. Some of them go on for so long, they appear to be tableaux, even though no one is standing still. Clearly Teboul is in love with his subject and I admire his intent to show the nuts and bolts of Laurent’s day to day travails. When one of his inner circle remarks on their “embarrassment of riches” it hits us that this is the fatal flaw. There are lots of fascinating, surprising details, too many, in fact, and Teboul just can’t bear to cut away from any of it.
He wants us to appreciate the long hours, the punchy, bleary-eyed consultations that go on into the night, the parade of models that anyone would lose track of, and that’s fine, but the way to do it is not by numbing us into submission. I love the way we see lots of different assistants, each making their own contribution to a finished gown, the chattering between three seamstresses as they bend over their irons, the quiet energy suffusing the moment when a model stands before Laurent and his cabinet as they debate organza over satin. But Teboul doesn’t seem to understand that you just can’t get it all in. That picking and omitting particular details is intrinsic to the creative process.
Life and Times, however, is a completely different matter. Laurent begins by talking about his childhood in Oran, Algeria, and we are immediately struck by family photographs and commentary by his mother, who confides that at the age of three, Laurent convinced his great aunt to change before attending a party. Teboul mixes stills, news clips, puff pieces, paintings by Andy Warhol, footage from fashion shows, period music and reminiscences with finesse and panache. The pacing is confident and steady. Key events from Laurent’s prodigious and tumultuous life are explained by friends, consorts, associates and his long-time lover (we gather) Pierre Berge’. The interviewees are surprisingly forthcoming, though none more so than Laurent himself, whose remarks begin and end the film. When asked about his notorious “dark side” Laurent and several others cop to it, but remain vague and philosophical.
Laurent’s homosexuality is openly discussed and possible “explanations” (for those who still need that red herring) considered. It’s suggested his orientation shaped his ground-breaking innovations in women’s fashion, cultivating stylish androgyny and dressing them in pants and suits that only served to intensify their femininity and bolster their confidence. Life and Times reveals a compelling composite of Yves St. Laurent, from shy schoolboy prodigy to pioneering fashion iconoclast.