The September Issue is an irresistible pop culture mashup: imagine the Teen Vogue segments of The Hills (though her royal highness Anna Wintour is swapped in for cut-rate LA imitation Lisa Love, the MTV reality show’s masterful manner of spinning diegetic commentary out of eye rolls taken out of context is left intact), genetically blended into an alternate universe version of The Office. Except in this office, the workers actually work, and in fact are terrified not to because their boss is Michael Scott’s polar opposite: impatient, undemonstrative, and absolutely incapable of taking no for an answer.
As a portrait of Wintour the person, RJ Cutler’s documentary does little to dig under the surface of Wintour’s iconic, impassive under bangs image. But as a meditation on art vs commerce, emotion vs rationality, and the role of fantasy merchants in the recently-burst economic bubble, The September Issue is both cerebral and accessible. If it’s not as provocative as it could be, it’s definitely entertaining.
The themes of the film emerge most clearly via the relationship between Wintour and VOGUE’s creative director, Grace Coddington. A former model a handful of years older than Wintour, Grace started working at American VOGUE on the same day as her now-superior. Both women worked their way up over the course of decades, only to land in a position where Grace is generally agreed to be the best fashion stylist in the world … and yet every move she makes is subject to Wintour’s approval.
Wintour is credited with transforming VOGUE by putting actresses on the cover, thus greasing the wheels for high fashion and its associated esoterica to enter the entertainment media. Grace is more of a purist; she puts her shoots together with the artistry of the image as the first and only concern, only to continually suffer the humiliation of having her work end up on the cutting room floor by the market-minded Wintour. Coddington is the only person around the office who doesn’t seem to buy into the Fear of Wintour, which is palpable on film not because her near-peers and underlings speak to it, but in the way they speak to her. When Anna asks a question, the answer offered is almost always inflected like another question; the people around her are terminally non-committal, as if the worst crime one could commit in Wintour’s presence is to have an opinion.
If the dominant media image of Anna Wintour, from The Devil Wears Prada and beyond, is that she’s a villain, she doesn’t do much here to disabuse us of that notion, and certainly Cutler does her no favors in the way they present her moments of tyranny. The director begins the film with an clip from a sit-down interview with Wintour, in which the VOGUE editor attempts to defend high fashion from unnamed critics. “Just because someone wants to wear Carolina Herrera instead of” — here she reaches for an example, as if she couldn’t possibly think of anything anyone would “want” to wear more than Carolina Herrera –– “something from Kmart, doesn’t make them a dumb person.”
Of course, only a “dumb person” would accuse someone of being “a dumb person” based solely on what they “choose” to wear. The issue is that for most of us the choice between Carolina Herrera and Kmart isn’t actually a “choice”, but a financial imperative. You could chalk this flub up to linguistic imprecision, but Cutler chooses to include right it at the beginning of the film for a reason: it sets the tone for a character whose extreme focus on the bottom line of her magazine causes her to tune out countless realities, up to and including that most of the critics of the fantasy she sells wouldn’t be able to afford that fantasy for themselves.
Cutler may not offer much evidence that Wintour is deeper than our pre-conceived image of her, but he does offer revelations in terms of her actual image. Wintour is often shot from below, the classic angle given to a person in a position of power, but in this instance, it reveals the imperfections of the facade. We see that her neck and the area under her chin are severely bagged, and up against her comparatively smooth face, one gets the sense that this is less from age or surgical restraint than from her habit of lowering her chin in pursed-lip frown. And yet, she’s so concerned with her own image that Grace is able to use Cutler’s camera crew against Wintour to get what she wants.
Grace and Anna embody the age old conflict between art and commerce, given new spin for an age of luxury obsession with the trap door dropped out. A VOGUE couture spread (Grace’s specialty) was the old, safe way for the masses to indulge in luxuries they couldn’t actually have. But when this kind of photo journalism-as-entertainment is pushed out in favor of cover stories revolving around not just non-models, but “it” girl actresses promoting films via carefully calibrated stories of “relatable” personal heartbreak, the fantasy sold within the pages of VOGUE becomes several degrees less blatant in its fantasy, and moves several steps toward actual accessibility. In a climate in which both the pursuit of art and beauty for the sake of it, and of journalism as mass-culture record of the present and contextualization for the future, have been swiftly pushed to the margins, the pretense of escape via advertisement still soldiers on. Though Cutler’s footage was shot over nine months in 2007, September seems to anticipate our current withdrawl from the addiction of spectacular accumulation. More than just aping the escapism of VOGUE itself, it may be the ideal film for those bitter and bedraggled by our current economic fix.
A slightly different verson of this review appeared during the 2009 Sundance Film Festival.
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