"Bill Cunningham New York": Two Things to Love in One Delightful Little Movie

Why hello,

THAT'S RIGHT, I'm writing about this goddamned movie, I don't CARE that it's 11 pm on a work night.  Damn the torpedoes, blog post ahead!

So seriously: "Bill Cunningham New York" (2010).

I gave it a 4.5.  Which, as you are likely aware, is just about as high a rating as I give.

I endured at least one failed attempt to see this movie in theaters (instead seeing the also-wonderful also-documentary "Buck" (2011), as evidence that some failures are actually opportunities to see other spectacular films in disguise).  As a result, I was very excited to learn that it was available to watch through the View Instantly on Netflix.

Where to begin?  Well, with one of the titular characters, obviously!

Bill Cunningham is an octogenarian fashion photographer for the New York Times, responsible for the paper's highly influential weekly "On the Street" segment.  We observe Cunningham as he avidly photographs flourishes of beauty on the street and runway alike, then as he painstakingly and idiosyncratically crams as many of his snapshots as possible into the space allotted to him (alongside a beleaguered but affectionate and very un-typecast assistant).

While I like fashion insofar as I love Tim Gunn and Project Runway, I was not previously familiar with Cunningham's contribution to All the News That's Fit to Print.  Ergo, my love of this little film is not the product of pre-existing Bill Cunningham fandom.

Instead, he completely won me over with his sweetness, humility, and beyond-reason dedication to his art.  Early in the film, we meet a magazine editor with whom Cunningham has worked, who reports on his stalwart refusal to be paid for his "extracurricular" work as a contributing photographer to a fashion magazine she created.  In a ferocious protection of his artistic freedom, he has simply forgone payment for much of his work, taking paychecks only from the Times.

We also meet several icons of fashion, including the apparently terrifying (if Meryl Streep's portrayal is any indication) Anna Wintour, who sing Cunningham's praises as a titan in the fashion world for his uncanny skill at sensing trends of the moment.

However, in spite of his deep entrenchment in a world of materialism, posturing, and glamor, Cunningham's life is the embodiment of spartanism.  At the outset of the film, he is living in a tiny artist's studio above Carnegie Hall that is packed with filing cabinets filled with his negatives, lacking a kitchen and sharing a bathroom with other tenants.  He shows the camera a black plastic rain poncho he has patched with tape in lieu of simply buying another.  Everywhere he goes, even when being presented with a high honor in Paris, he wears a royal blue jacket in which his tiny elderly frame swims, and which he purchased precisely for its cheapness and functionality, explaining that his camera constantly rubbing against the fabric would ruin nicer outerwear.

Perhaps most maddeningly, he peddles a bicycle all over the city, often to several events a night that are nowhere near each other, constantly risking getting nicked by some stupid cab while not wearing a helmet.  

It may not surprise you that I sometimes talk to my television.  There were several occasions while watching this movie during which I took the opportunity to yell at Bill to protect his sweet old head.  Damn it man, buy some protective gear!!

In one of my very most favorite moments of the movie, Cunningham is at a beautiful event, busily photographing the attendees.  One of the organizers makes a concerted effort to pawn off some food on Cunningham, observing how hard he's working.  He graciously declines, saying with utmost sincerity, "I eat with my eyes."

This moment beautifully encapsulates the movie.  In eschewing all other worldly pleasures and comforts, Cunningham is wholly devoted to his love of fashion.

But his devotion is one of near total self-effacement.  It struck me as oddly moving that in spite of his love of beautiful clothing, Cunningham denies himself fine things to wear.  Surrounded by excess, he occupies the tiniest possible living space and gets around the city at 80 years old on a battered little bicycle.

This brings us to the movie's second titular character: New York.  While Cunningham's pursuit of his love by no means confines him to one city, the lion's share of the film is set in New York.  Given the movie's setting, Cunningham's love for fashion reminded me of another of my favorite films: Woody Allen's* "Manhattan" (1979).

One reason "Manhattan" is my favorite Woody Allen movie (a difficult selection to make with such a prolific director) is its fantastic opening sequence: stunning black-and-white shots of New York, set to Gershwin, as Allen narrates the writing of his character's opening chapter to a forthcoming novel, closing with a profession of his dedication to his city: "New York was his town, and it always would be."

And the music crescendosssssssss!!!

It is one of the finest moments in cinema, and it makes me well up every time.

This love and awe of, and joy in, something much bigger than oneself is what makes "Bill Cunningham New York" a complete delight to watch.  Would that we could all find a vocation so deeply, endlessly thrilling as Bill Cunningham's.

Obviously, I highly recommend this film.  I hope you watch and enjoy!

Thanks for reading, as always.

<3



* = Woody Allen has a history of sexually exploiting women and of being a hand-wringing apologist in support of men who sexually exploit women. I no longer support his work.