Who Are You, Polly Maggoo?

Perhaps, to be fair, I should re-watch the film, but at this point although it was a decent satire, there are so many more informative and entertaining films and books on this subject.

The film has some interesting scenes, and references to the emptiness and transitory nature of the profession as we see the documentary filmed on the streets of London. Grayson Hall ("Night of the Iguana")has an interesting cameo.

Overall, it seems the modeling industry is too complex, and variegated to be successfully depicted on film. Films such as "Unzipped" and "Seamless" touch on the subject. Television shows such as Darren Star's "Models Inc." can only graze the surface of a very moneyed and unpredictable business.

If you are truly interested in an expose on the modeling industry, you may want to read "Model" by Michael Gross, senior writer at Esquire and former fashion columnist for the New York Times. Former high fashion model Marie Helvin has also written "Catwalk", which proves very informative on this subject as well.

Director William Klein was clearly having a lot of fun here. Who Are You Polly Maggoo? Is one crazy ride, like a clown-car blown sideways through the Parisian fashion district. The plot is a flimsy thing onto which wacky, manic set pieces are hung...Polly is modeling, Polly is being interviewed, Polly is being courted, people say nonsensical things with great aplomb. But like Godard's films of the era, the real action is the unpredictable flow of ideas, words, unrealistic scenarios, striking images. Unlike Godard, Polly Maggoo is genuinely funny. It's a delightful example of the pre-May '68 anarchic pop-art exuberance: everything is weird and wild, and nothing matters very much. Maybe Klein's satirical surrealism most closely resembles Robert Downey Sr's "Putney Swope", another goofy, confounding comedic confection that folks find either nonsensical or hysterical. Meanwhile on the pop charts, Gainsbourg and Bardot advocated for "Shebam! Pow! Blop! Whizzz!" -- and Klein was right back at them with a hearty "beep-beep!" Taken on its own terms, a loveable little film.

This film began very well and I had high hopes until I realized it was an Absurdist film--one that deliberately doesn't make sense and is designed to make normal people feel left out and confused. It's really a shame, as the opening sequence at the fashion show was fun and had a great point to make about the absurdity of fashion (particularly in the silly late 1960s). The ladies are all wearing clothes made from what appears to be tin or aluminum and they look like total idiots--all the while, the elite declare the clothes to be brilliant and works of art. Unfortunately, after this great sequence, it seems like the rest of the film is a deliberate attempt to appeal to the "sophisticated" and snobbish art film lovers, as the film is filled with seemingly bizarre and pointless scenes. While the film was not made by a Frenchman, it was in French and the film fits well within the French New Wave movement--which viewers will probably either love or hate. As for me, this film was tedious and I did not enjoy it in the least. Perhaps I am just too Bourgeoise in my sensibilities (or perhaps I just want a movie that makes sense).

French satire of the fashion industry from director William Klein stars real-life Vogue model Dorothy McGowan as Polly Maggoo, a supermodel from Brooklyn now a sensation in France, being followed everywhere by a film-crew eager to find the real woman behind the glamour. Lots of targets (mostly dry little pokes at the pretensions inherent in the world of fashionistas), romantic fantasies, and behind the scenes indecision. Stylishly presented (if awfully choppy) in black-and-white, with some droll commentary, though its sense of humor is ultimately a matter of taste. *1/2 from ****

Too bad this European cult film of the Sixties, written and directed by an American whose photo documentary reportage on New York, Rome, and Tokyo is legendary, is all but impossible to track down here in North America. After years of fruitless searching I finally attended two screenings at the Whitney Museum of Art in 1997. The main draw in this film for me was Grayson Hall, who portrays Miss Maxwell, Editor of Vogue magazine--a character so closely based on Director William Klein's former boss Diana Vreeland, it's amazing Vreeland didn't sue for libel. Grayson Hall was flown over specially from America to do this. Try to get the original French language version--she spoke French and her accent, and delivery, are priceless. (She referred to the experience acerbically as "Hell, honey!") The film's eponymous star Dorothy MacGowan was chosen at random from a crowd shot of Beatles girls welcoming the Fab Four at a New York airport. MacGowan stands at the center of a wildly gyrating scenario that satirizes pretty much everything in mid Sixties French society that is or isn't nailed down--politics, fashion, the media, the idealization of rural life and French traditions--taking frequent detours into fantasy sequences and even including some animated segments that must have helped inspire the animated interludes in the original Monty Python series. The score by Michel Legrand has some brilliant moments, particularly during the opening sequence featuring sheet metal fabricated fashions; the rest of the film never quite lives up to the promise of this inaugural tour de force.

Still, as a time capsule of Sixties effulgence, it's well worth tracking down. Let's hope somebody "rediscovers" it and brings it out on video, pronto! With the original letterbox ratio, bien sur.