It’s nice when a film can mix your two interests. In this case, my addiction to fashion magazines had collided nicely with a documentary described as “an intimate portrait of a fashion icon”, Karl Lagerfeld, in Rodolphe Marconi’s Lagerfeld Confidential.
Lagerfeld has had a long and illustrious career as a fashion designer and is still at the top of his game, working for Chanel, whose fortunes he turned around in the 1980s.
To be honest, I knew little about the man, except that he wore black, had a ponytail, and was adored by fashionistas the world over. Oh – and that he always wore sunglasses, even inside, and even at night. I was expecting a Devil Wears Prada in documentary form. Though the film naturally touched on elements of this as it skirted the fashion pack, it couldn’t have been further from the truth.
Perhaps at its core of the film is the idea of fashion as an artform – and for Lagerfeld, it certainly is, though it’s not an artform he seems particularly precious about, as he knocks out his designs in a unique combination of tipex, marker pen, and pastels. But we see it clearly in footage of his July 2005 show when the models parade on a tiered circular runway in black coats, before stripping off to reveal the glorious colours of suits and dresses beneath. The theatre and fantasy of haute couture.
Lagerfeld is not a man who can been easily summed up, and perhaps this is the struggle that faced Rodolphe Marconi as he created his film from hours and hours of unique footage. As Marconi is at pains to point out in the director’s notes, he was given unprecedented access to areas of Lagerfeld’s life. Indeed, the film begins in Lagerfeld’s chaotic but chic bedroom, as the camera follows the squeaking of Lagerfeld’s leather trousers as he packs his bags for a trip. It closes in on an array of at least 10 iPods, piles of books and papers, before showing Lagerfeld tip a whole bowl full of his signature chunky silver rings into a bag, having already adorned each finger with as many as they can fit, bulging over his knuckles like amour.
It’s a film with a lot of observational humour, seen also in the way the camera follows the expression on the American male model’s face as Lagerfeld has him up at dawn, parading and posing with barely any clothes on at all for photographs he takes himself. Or the way the filmmaker takes the camera into the bathroom to show us the sign on the back of the toilet door: “pissing everywhere is not very Chanel”.
Lagerfeld himself likes to share a joke or two. “I love the smell of building sites,” is one pearl of wisdom from Lagerfeld, as he’s chauffeured through the streets of Paris. But to take this comment, or others like it, in isolation is to miss the point. Lagerfeld’s life is laid bare, from the very banal of his private life to the VIP, where he photographs Nicole Kidman, flies in a private jet, or is stopped to sign autographs on the street. But do we really find out anything about him?
What is most interesting is the tension between Lagerfeld and the filmmaker. Polite and patient Lagerfeld might be, but he doesn’t suffer fools and points out the flaws in the filmmaker’s rather limp questions. The filmmaker’s obsession with Lagerfeld’s sexuality and relationships is not shared by Lagerfeld. He is frank, and straight down the line, natural and not coy in his responses: for Lagerfeld it’s simply not an interesting topic. But the questions lead to more interesting anecdotes about his mother and childhood.
The filmmaker’s obsession with Lagerfeld’s sexuality is only seconded by the unexplained water scenes that feel out of kilter with the subject matter of his film – waves crashing on rocks, small boys paddling at the beach in sepia tones. The excellent soundtrack allows these scenes to blend in, but they feel at odds with the rest of the film. Why waste time on water, when you’ve got Lagerfeld? Show us more of this curious man.
It is a difficult task Rodolphe has undertaken, and perhaps the greatest criticism of the film is that it simply whets the appetite. Rodolphe’s subject is more interesting than the resulting film. The bits that shone are when Lagerfeld speaks – he’s a gifted storyteller, full of charisma, and full of contradictions.
And there are many contradictions. Lagerfeld is casual and self-effacing, yet has a bigger than average ego. He claims to not value possessions, yet as Rodolphe points out he owns one of the largest private libraries in the world, an enormous collection of clothes, and at least three houses. He’s revered by his staff and famous the world over, but is happy to stop in the street to be photographed with a stranger. Perhaps Lagerfeld says it best himself: “I am a complete improvisation”.
Although Lagerfeld is filmed without his trademark glasses on, we still don’t really know who he is. But he certainly is interesting, and Rodolphe’s film makes me want to know more.
Lagerfeld Confidential is released in the UK on 26 October 2007.