The challenge: designing a couture collection for the legendary high fashion brand Christian Dior. The contender: Raf Simons, the newly appointed artistic director at the House of Dior. Time: eight stressful weeks in the spring of 2012. The output? That’s like asking if it’s OK to fast-forward through an episode of “Project Runway” to see the runway show only. Just like the creatively charged, emotionally driven TV show, Frédéric Tcheng’s meticulous, electrifying documentary Dior and I is as much about the delicate process, larger-than-life personalities and artistic obstacles that turn fashion into its own art form, as the splendid creations themselves. And what a thrill-ride it is, taken on a spectacular rollercoaster. Turning his unprecedented access to the storied House of Dior into a stirring celebration of fashion’s past and present through the looking-glass of the label, Tcheng manages to excite and move while painting a complete portrait of an artist challenged by his new post’s unprecedented legacy. And through the heart-throbbing build of it all, Tcheng also earns his audience’s increasingly audible gushes, especially once Simons’ sublime collection graces the screen.
But saying Dior and I is only about the Galliano-successor Simons and his artistic process would be missing what heightens the film’s emotional accessibility entirely. Just like in any collaborative art form, couture proves to be a lot more than the sum of its parts that can only be seamlessly sewn together (by hand, according to tradition) with love and dedication of many talents, in a chain of command of artistic pressure. Thus, Tcheng loses no time to lead us behind the grandiose doors of the house, beyond all the posh spectacle, introducing his equally rich, intimate side story of the House of Dior’s long-time seamstresses that tirelessly bring the artistic director’s vision to life.
Divided into ateliers based on their area of expertise (on suiting or dresses), the seamstresses, some with 30-plus years of experience, operate within a rank under their hard-earned titles, obtained only after years and years of rigorous discipline and experience, very much like the disciples of Jiro Ono, portrayed in David Gelb’s Jiro Dreams of Sushi. At the top of the ranks are two seamstresses called the premières: Florence Chehet, the première for the atelier flou (dresses) and Monique Bailly, the première for the atelier tailleur (suits). In following the two women and the rest of the team in the workrooms, Tcheng captures the artistic process of creation entirely, spotlighting the brand’s unsung heroines who stand away from the bright lights, and remain a lot further from stardom than a mere 20 feet. Meanwhile, working his way up and closer to the podiums, Tcheng also underlines the creative director’s occasional insecure outbursts that come into focus under the impediments of an impossible timeline and industry demands that expect nothing less than a homerun from Dior’s historic legacy.
We get to hear segments from Christian Dior’s memoir in the opening moments and throughout (from the voice of poet Omar Berrada); and later on, accompany Simons while he visits Dior’s childhood house in Normandy as he gravitates towards inspiration and self-doubt in equal measure. Hoping to break away from the “minimalist” identity with which the fashion world had tagged him after his years at Jil Sanders (a stylistic POV in direct conflict with Dior’s ultra-feminine silhouettes born as a reaction to the boxiness of the war-time looks following World War II), we watch Simons as he yearns to fit in and further the Dior brand. As a private, quiet, mostly assured creative leader and dreamer, he disregards no extravagant thought that crosses his mind, visibly pushing his own limits, and unknowingly making Dior and I a luscious, risk-taking thriller. In one of the film’s pivotal moments, we get to witness the works of Sterling Ruby–an abstract American painter–become prints on fabric for Simons’ collection as a direct result of his boundless visualization, and start holding our breaths until the show itself, having seen what Simons is capable of. To add to the stress of it all (slight spoiler), we are reminded that no creation will become an actual item of clothing until the final couple of days. Turns out, that’s couture: with pieces flat on the table, 48 hours before the show.
If you aren’t already familiar with Raf Simons’ debut collection and the embarrassingly extravagant runway show in which he displayed it, do yourself a favor and don’t look any images up. Instead, allow your eyes to discover it with the likes of Marion Cotillard, Jennifer Lawrence, Harvey Weinstein (really; he had a front row seat), Anna Wintour, and the seamstresses who proudly (and ever so slightly sadly) peak through the curtains to take in the beauty of their fruits of hard labor. The effect is simply magnificent.
