The success of television shows devoted to fashion and of websites that follow the runways is ample proof that when it comes to our appetite for fashion, more is more. The handicap that this documentary faces is that we think we know more than we do. Take Anna Wintour, who was so memorably caricatured by Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada." Anyone would probably pale in comparison to a fictionalized representation of herself by Meryl Streep, so if Wintour emerges from this film as less interesting than you had assumed, it's not her fault.
It may be the fault of the director, however. Surely the world that Ms. Wintour orchestrates is a complicated place, and everyone on screen agrees that Wintour's influence is far-reaching. But no one, least of all the director, seems to be able to say precisely why. Instead, R.J. Cutler's direction gives us redundant shots of Wintour at runway shows or studios (always with dark glasses, which begs the question of whether she can actually see what she is supposed to evaluate) or of her capriciously nixing shots that her staff has spent many hours - and even more dollars - to create. There are a few scenes where we think we will get a glimpse of her fabled powerbrokering (a meeting with the head of Neiman Marcus, for instance), but even then we see few specifics. At times Wintour speaks directly to the camera, revealing, among other things, her siblings' dismissal of what she does professionally, but these moments don't cast her in a particularly sympathetic light. Even her daughter says on screen that she cannot take the industry seriously, and nothing about what Wintour says or is shown to do makes a compelling case for why her daughter - or we - should think otherwise. The film takes as a given the premise that fashion is important and that Wintour is its most important person. Lovers of fashion will go along with the premise, but even they might be troubled that time and again people in the film - Wintour included - betray a fear that fashion is viewed only as a guilty pleasure for stupid people. Wintour's decision to begin putting celebrities on the cover of Vogue is mentioned as a concrete example of her genius (she understood early where our fixation with celebrity in this country was headed), but even that "achievement" is undercut in the film by the sad photoshoot of Sienna Miller.
Ironically, the real heroine of this documentary's story is someone who at first glance does not embody high fashion: Grace Coddington. Ms. Coddington is Vogue's creative director, and her wrinkled face, frizzy hair, and plain black clothing belie her importance in a world that is celebrated for being skin-deep. Through the story Cutler shows us, however, Coddington is revealed as the long-standing source of the magazine's best material. She works tirelessly at the photo shoots she oversees, explaining to those around her the choices behind the textures of the fabrics or the concept of the lighting. Her visions are cohesive and gorgeous, but most importantly, they are intelligently articulated. Under Cutler's direction, the camera lingers over Coddington's tired face and the beautiful images of fashion that she creates, letting us see a highly creative mind at work. That she puts such thought into photographs that are so often blithely thrown out by Wintour (without good explanation as to why, at least on screen) makes her all the more sympathetic. Cutler, perhaps unknowingly, sets her up as everything that Wintour is not, and the comparison is not kind to Wintour. Where Coddington explains her vision and justifies her artistic choices, Wintour simply pronounces her final judgements. Coddington is kind to the models, bringing them treats and asking whether their outfits are too tight, while Wintour jokes about people's weight and demands that fat be photoshopped (even on non-models). Coddington seems to care deeply about the clothing and its details, especially at the couture shoots in France, whereas Wintour often just looks bored. Cutler peels away at the many levels of Coddington, letting the viewer know only gradually that she herself was once a model on the pages of Vogue, and that she suffered a disfiguring accident that required facial plastic surgery. Her story is far more interesting than Wintour's, but that's probably because it is told better.
Ultimately it is Grace Coddington who emerges in this film as the "author" of Vogue, the creator of the very things that readers love most. The "inside" look at Anna Wintour and her control of the magazine sticks to the surface of its supposed primary subjects, and while a focus on the surface of things may be fine for the business of fashion, it won't do for documentary filmmaking. Where the film does triumph, however, is its showcasing of Coddington, who quietly, stubbornly, and convincingly makes the case for fashion as art.
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