On an average mid-December Friday night in 2010, a lively cafe in the Marais – the ultra-trendy Parisian Boystown frequented by the fashion set – birthed one of the most shocking developments the fashion world had seen since the assassination of Gianni Versace and the suicide of Alexander McQueen. French Legion of Honour, British Designer of the Year recipient, and Creative Director of the esteemed house of Dior John Galliano, two sheets to the wind, hurled horrible insults at the table next to him. His references to Hitler and the Holocaust left many in his orbit speechless. In the following weeks, more videos of similar drunken behavior surfaced. Though Galliano had always been the enfant terrible of the fashion world, a rebellious, flamboyant, larger-than-life figure, this time he’d gone too far. In a matter of days, he was officially charged with a crime under France’s stringent anti-hate speech laws and fired from Dior.
For the decade that followed, the British designer who’d dragged prêt-à-porter and couture into the 21st century was a pariah. As one of the first targets of what some call “cancel culture,” Galliano was officially banished from the runways and ateliers that he knew and loved – no one would hire him. “High & Low: John Galliano” by esteemed and award-winning director Kevin Macdonald (“Touching The Void,” “The Last King Of Scotland”), charts the designer’s riveting life. Complete with footage of his stunning creations, show-stopping runways, the film intercuts requisite interviews of the supreme bitches of fashion – Anna Wintour, Naomi Campbell, Kate Moss, Charlize Theron, and Bernard Arnault. From his fairy tale ascendance to the height of the fashion world to the dramatic, scandalous fall, the documentary also dares to ask if the punishment was too harsh, and if Galliano deserves another chance.
Galliano’s narration of his life from humble beginnings in Gibraltar, a British territory on the Iberian peninsula where most inhabitants identify as ethnically Spanish, drives the bulk of the film. With child-like wonder, natural storytelling instincts, and the raspy voice of a lifelong smoker, Galliano, born Juan Carlos Antonio Galliano-Guillén, describes a modest, yet colorful childhood. From the mother who was always impeccably dressed and accessorized, who danced Flamenco, and was likely to add a bit vino tinto to the lemonade, to the narrow street where they lived which resembled a runway, he seemed destined to pursue a life of dramatic clothing and spectacle.
When covering the family’s immigration to South London and puberty, Galliano doesn’t shy away from the challenges of his burgeoning homosexuality. Like so many beauty and fashion icons, he describes being different, an outcast from his family, namely the father, who couldn’t accept a gay son. With admission to the famed Central Saint Martins design school – whose alumni are a long list of who’s who in fashion, music, and media, among them Alexander McQueen, Keith Richards, Bryan Ferry, Stella McCartney, and Riccardo Tisci – Galliano started to come out of his shell, experiment with clothing and gender norms … a star was born.
On another narrative track, Macdonald weaves in scenes from Abel Gance’s 1927 epic biopic “Napoleon,” the film which Galliano credits with igniting his love of fashion. This masterpiece of a silent film, strikingly modern in its artistry, uses chiaroscuro lighting and closeups of a man on a herculean mission, outfitted in the stunning silhouettes of 18th-century French military garb. The iconic Napoleonic outfit – bicorne hat, epaulets, and boldly colored sashes – figured dramatically into Galliano’s Central Saint Martin graduation collection. It garnered the young romantic attention from fashion editors and buyers, and the moniker “New Romantic.”
In the beginning, Galliano struggled like all artists with Napoleonic obsession on the verge of greatness. Footage of the supermodels Christy Turlington, Kate Moss, and Naomi Campbell bringing their own accessories for his early shows is a historical footnote not to be missed.
With support from Anna Wintour and André Leon Talley, enough buzz was created to land him not just a job, but the gig – actually two – of a lifetime. LVMH first appointed Galliano in 1996 to take over Givenchy. Paris and fashion editors worldwide were so wowed by his first shows that he was quickly tapped to steer the more storied couturier Christian Dior a year later. Galliano’s creative intensity then went full throttle. For over a decade, he created collections and mounted runway shows more operatic than the next, in which he was the star as much as his garments. The world seemed like his oyster…
As per usual, on the flip side of astronomical success, darker forces were amassing into quite an undertow. The Napoleonic verve to push against all odds morphed into an obsessive dedication to controlling an esteemed brand, a process that Galliano managed with booze. Then the all-too-familiar cycle of self-medication and addiction overtook the narrative of this brilliant designer. On a cocktail of pills and alcohol to come down from the stress and anxiety of being the creative director of 30 Dior brands and sub-brands, Galliano’s black-out drunk escapades resulted in public nudity and smaller scandals that could be overlooked. In the midst of this cycle of creation and self-destruction, personal tragedies struck. Galliano’s father and best friend/personal assistant passed away, leaving him more unmoored. The textbook concerns of friends and attempted interventions failed.
The escalation of his black out drunkenness, a spotty memory, and the scandal that followed is where HIGH & LOW: JOHN GALLIANO begins to tackle its larger story and ask its most probing questions. In the most animated exchange between the filmmaker and his subject, Galliano seems to be unclear on the number of taped incidents that led to his downfall. Firm in his assertion of living a clean, alcohol-free life, the outcast couturier is no less embarrassed or regretful about his past. The director then juxtaposes Galliano’s recollection of the scandal with an interview of his first hate speech victim about the infamous night and the trial that followed. In a bizarre twist, the accuser changes his opinions of Galliano twice and urges the viewer to condemn and never forgive the designer as an unrepentant racist and anti-semite. It’s an assertion all the more weighted in contrast to Galliano’s narration. With soft, cosmetically-lifted eyes and the occasionally wry smile, he’s been pleading with us and the fashion world to forgive him the entire film.
In the final stretch of the documentary, Galliano is filmed finally back at work, having been appointed Creative Director at Maison Margiela, the house famous for the anonymity of its principals. It might seem like a counterintuitive decision from a man who ended his runways shows with his most notable model – himself – but Galliano wagers this lack of celebrity is good for his mental health and sobriety.
While ramping up for his first show at Margiela, after another apology tour and series of mea culpa to Dior stakeholders, the doc climaxes with a tear-jerker. Galliano visits the atelier, the archives specifically. In white gloves surrounded by an army of fashion preservationists, Galliano is allowed to examine his previous collections for the house. With the religious reverence and atonement of a father reunited with his children after decades, the New Romantic, now a 60-year-old man in an impeccably tailored suit, asks “Is it ok if I touch them?”
In a packed post-screening Q&A at the Quad Cinema, several viewers asked director Kevin Macdonald, “Do you feel Galliano and others who were victims of “cancel culture” should be forgiven?” The director, like his subtle, yet no less poignant film, answered “That’s up for you to decide.”
