ALBERT MAYSLES Memorial Film Festival (May 8-14, 2015)

[Chris Knipp]

ALBERT MAYSLES: CHRISTO IN PARIS (1990)


"THE PONT NEUF WRAPPED" 1985

"The Pont Neuf Wrapped": big project in the city where Christo and Jeanne-Claude first met

This film celebrates the "Wrapped Pont Neuf" and also is a nostalgic film reflecting the Maysles' by then already two decades of association with Christo and Jeanne-Claude and familiarity and friendship with them. This film combines the romance of the couple's early life with the story of their most dramatic project in Paris. As the film opens we see the couple smartly dressed, walking arm-in-arm along the Seine as Edith Piaf sings "La vie en rose." The Maysles story of Christo and Jeanne-Clsude is among other things the story of a great romance and an intense artistic working partnership that lasted 51 years. Here, they are admiring the Pont Neuf, the oldest bridge in Paris. It's the late Seventies. "The Pont Neuf Wrapped" spans from 1975 to 1985; it took place for two weeks in September and October 1985, but it took ten years to get the permission from the city of Paris to do it.

Some of the footage here of meeting with Jeanne-Claude's father, General Jacques de Guillebon, of a discussion about strategy to pursuede Paris governing officials, including then Mayor Jacques Chirac, to approve the Pont Neuf project, also appears in the Islands film. Here Christo also talks about his childhood (he was born in the Balkans), his parents, his skill at draftsmanship from a very early age, and the telling facts that while his mother was an arts official, his father directed a fabric factory -- whose heavy machinery he drew skillfully as a boy. His father's work was prophetic of his own career: Christo himself was to work with fabric all his life. Also tellingly his older from an early age always referred to him as "Don Quixote." His "useless" but often enormously labor-intensive and long-delayed projects are nothing if not Quixotic.

We see a series of the very fluent pencil drawings of Christo's youth. We hear about his impoverished early days when he fled to Paris in the late Fifties and he and Jeanne-Claude were first together, he struggling to survive. His humble first small wrapped objects were not very successful, early projects not approved. Jeanne-Claude, the general's daughter, was a debutante. The penniless refugee Christo Javacheff, who painted her mother's portrait -- it was her mother who brought Christo into the house and made him like a son -- was at for her a very dangerous idea. Trying at first to "have it both ways, she slept with Christo, but married a safe, more "appropriate" man, an older French army officer. But in three weeks she ended the marriage, being already pregnant with their son Cyril, and went to live in his "chambre de bonne." Interesting still photos of the time are shown. Jeanne-Claude's parents wouldn't speak to her for a couple years after this. They greatly enjoy recounting these and many other happy and colorful anecdotes to the camera. "I had money and he didn't," Jeanne-Claude says. "I have never used my money for anything. While Christo, without money, could give me a very exciting life." And since we see both of her parents regularly turning up at their big art projects later on, obviously good relations were restored, and then some.

"The Pont Neuf Wrapped" was Christo and Jeanne-Claude's most difficult project to get approval for up to this time -- ten years. The French politicians, Jeanne-Claude said, were playing ping pong with them. Chirac especially. He agreed to approve the project, but put it off till after elections, and then five months before the time when it was to happen, withdrew support. Actively electioneering around the Pont Neuf and with the communist union at the great Samaritaine department store, they sought to stir up grassroots support. Bypassing Chirac, they went to the socialists, and Mitterand approved it, thanks to his minister of culture Jack Lang.

The look and feel of the cloth used in the lovely wrapping of the Pont Neuf, Paris' oldest bridge over the Seine, isn't like that used for "Valley Curtain" or "Running Fence." It's beige or champagne colored and soft and light, and it falls in many vertical folds, tied with ropes. As usual, it looks exactly like Christo's drawings. Maysles's film is particularly notable in showing how "Wrapped Pont Neuf" acted as a stimulus to Parisians to talk and argue for hours. It made them rethink the bridge, the idea of "showing" by "concealing," to enjoy the beauty of it, and gave them something to remember, an experience that made them see the bridge forever in a new way. The social stimulation of the work is signaled by the Parisian who says to an opponent he debates with, "Look,I don't know you. You don't know me. If the bridge weren't wrapped, we'd have never spoken to each other." "The Pont Neuf Wrapped" was ephemeral, but is also now a permanent part of the artistic and cultural and even political history of Paris. A warm and enjoyable and celebratory film, one of the best in the series, and among other things a history and memorable homage to the long love and collaboration of Christo and Jeanne-Claude.

Christo in Paris, 57 mins., was edited by Deborah Dickson. It includes music by Philip Glass and a Bulgarian choir. Credited to Albert and David Maysles, though at the time of release, David had passed away, and it ends with the dedication, "To David." Debuted at Amsterdam, 1990; also Sundance 1991 and Toronto 1991. Included in Plexifilm's 5 Films About Christo & Jeanne-Claude box set (2004), with artists' commentary track from that date as bonus material. All the films in this thread were screened in connection with the Albert Maysles Memorial Film Festival organized by David L. Brown at the Vogue Theater in San Francisco, May 8 - 14, 2015.

[Chris Knipp]

ALBERT MAYSLES: UMBRELLAS (1994)


"UMBRELLAS" IN JAPAN AND CALIFORNIA 1991

Yellow and blue; vicissitudes of nature

One of the most eventful, suspenseful, and even disturbing of the Maysles Christo films. The "Umbrellas" project consisted of parasols, a bit like giant beach umbrellas, simultaneously set up in large ranch lands of the southern California hills through which the major highway Route 5 passed, and in tiny rice fields worked by a lot of older people in the area of Ibaraki, Japan, 50 miles north of Tokyo. "Project for 6-8 Miles - 3.000 Umbrellas;" Christo's description reads, "Hight 12 Feet Diameter 18 Feet." Christo likened it to a diptych in painting. He said the $26 million project "reflected the similarities and differences in the ways of life and the use of the land in two inland valleys in Japan and the USA." The umbrellas, their parts manufactured in multiple countries, then shipped and assembled in Bakersfield, California, were identical in construction, but yellow in California, and blue in Japan. The period of the project from inception to completion was from 1984 to 1991. Logistically, it was a jet lag nightmare, since Christo and Jeanne-Claude had to fly back and forth between New York, California, and Japan 67 times.

Nature made it a nightmare too, because freak weather in both places caused damage to the completed project and accidents that led to two fatalities, which had never happened before. Freak winds blew one of the 485-pound umbrellas out of its moorings, and it crushed a woman against a rock and killed her. Christo ordered both California and Japan shut down, and one of the Japanese crew was killed during the dismantling. But this is not to say the project was not completed, and beautiful, and admired by millions of people, in both places. It is simply true that none of the Maysles Christo films better illustrates both the rewarding aesthetic beauty, the pleasure for the onlookers, and the enormous, stressful work and even serious danger of carrying out the "hardware" part of their projects. And before the final shutdown in Japan, Christo ordered a delay to wait for rain to stop, then when it was up, Jeanne-Claude ordered the umbrellas to be closed temporarily because a typhoon was coming. Less expected was a tornado-like event that swept up a group of the yellow umbrellas in California causing the one death and a number of injuries.

What's memorable in the film, for me, are the images of the umbrellas scattered all over the hot, dry, late sumer California hills like poppy flowers, and the deep indigo umbrellas arranged more geometrically over the rainy autumnal flat damp valley in Japan. When Christo is rushing around in a van trying to look at as many of the blue Japan umbrellas as he can and still catch his plane to California, he is more tired and yelling more frantically than in any of the other films, and he and Jeanne-Claude have harsh words in the van. They always say that they yell at each other. Well, here we see it. But they still say loving goodbyes as Christo finally, reluctantly, heads off to catch the plane to California. As usual, they never fly together, and anyway, she remained in Japan to watch over the project there.

The permission stage benefitted from the "Running Fence" experience, and the layout slightly resembles in in California, but things were different. While the ranchers were relatively easy to convince of "Running Fence" and the trouble was with the counties and coastal commission, this time the highway department was very helpful, but the landowners a problem to deal with, for "Umbrellas." In Japan there were over 450 of them, and thousands of cups of green tea had to be drunk. Two California counties, Los Angeles and Kent, were involved in the USA segment, the largest segment being the huge Lejon Ranch, which is larger than the state of Rhode Island. They had to be convinced, and then the rest followed. But the film itself gives few details of this process; it is to be found in Christo and Jeanne-Claude's commentary on the Plexifilm DVD, on which the couple also recount the vast distances they both walked over the two terrains painstakingly deciding by trial and error where each umbrella should be placed. The film spends much time on the smiling faces of the photogenic young Japanese onlookers and non-professional helpers.The Japan installation was more intimate, and, as the commentary relates, the Japanese typically revealed themselves more accepting of the concept of objects in nature as "art," while American audiences lectured about the proposal wanted to know how much it cost and who would pay, while the Japanese audience's first question was the aesthetic one: why blue for Japan and yellow for California? Likewise in the commentary, Jeanne-Claude recounts that for the American death, there were lawsuits and a settlement, but for the worker's death in Japan, his family apologized to them.

Many find Christo's efforts hubristic, and they may seem more so then usual here, and some find Jeanne-Claude "bossy," and she may seem so here. Christo admits, as always, that "there is a profound level of irrationality" in his projects, "done only because me, Christo, wants them." One can see the Maysles Christo films as promotions, as part of the program, certainly not criticism. But my feeling remains that if you follow the whole series, you should become a convert, glad that Christo and Jeanne-Clause existed, to define public and environmental and occasional art in their own special, unique way -- subject to all the vicissitudes of the real, just as an expedition into the wild or a mountain climb will be.

[Chris Knipp]

ALBERT MAYSLES: THE GATES (2007)


"THE GATTES" 2005, CENTRAL PARK, NEW YORK CITY

Winning the home town

Rather ironically, since they had lived in New York for forty years, it took the environmental artist couple Christo and Jeanne-Claude more than half that time, from 1979 to 2005, to get permission to carry out a major project in their chosen city. Mayor Bloomberg was the official who finally made it possible. Though he said it was all due to Jeanne-Claude, he took no persuading. He said he had always been a fan. The "Gates" were temporary metal arches, 7,500 of them, 16 feet tall, traversing 23 miles of walkways, with free-flapping sheets of deep saffron-colored translucent fabric hung at the top of them, and spaced 12 feet apart, of different widths depending on the pathways they went over. It was up from 12-27 February 2005 and during that time it snowed, setting the project off dramatically. Knowing the city, the artists wisely scheduled the project to brighten and enhance the park at its coldest, most monochrome time.

In the Maysles Christo films Islands and Christo in Paris, we see the artists meeting with officials in Paris, Bonn, and Berlin. Here we get a look at the style of New York, as we see them meet with a lawyer, a park commissioner, and so on. Like Chirac, fancily dressed, cigarette-brandishing Park Commissioner Gordon Davis appears favorable, but issues a 1981 report denying the project. In between, in many meetings with Harlem people, Manhattan people, university people, Christo and Jeanne-Claude encounter all sorts of opposition. People claim Christo's "Gates" will "deface" the "work of art" that is Central Park. Jeanne-Claude always ripostes that the park is totally man-made. One black figure (a lawyer?) argues favorably that the project's traversing of the whole park unifies the rich lower part with the poor upper part -- a good thing. But then in a Harlem public meeting, a young black man says nobody from Harlem would see it, and the $4-5 million (the then estimate) would do them no good. Money is always a concern of Americans, and of New Yorkers. The French and Germans did not speak of that, nor did the Japanese. New York seems much more hostile than California, but this is a big, volatile, aggressive city. New York is full of interest groups bristling with objections and ready to attack. Maysles' film shows a lot of meanness and nastiness about the project and the frames before the fabric is dropped down -- often from older couples.

The documentary after 24 of its 64 minutes skips past Dinkins and Giuliani to Bloomberg. We've had enough objections, apparently: Bloomberg didn't need any persuading at all, and what any other official thought didn't matter. Now Christo and Jeanne-Claude, born on the same day and year, are 70 years old. The once youthful perennial project photographer Wolfgang Volz is well into his 50's now. Peter Schjeldahl's dismissive description, "Gated," in The New Yorker, of how Christo projects get permission proves to be untrue. He said what happens with these artists is that here is "a predictable public and bureaucratic resistance," (sometimes there is, sometimes not) "which gradually comes to seem mean-spirited and foolish for want of a reasonable argument against them." Not that Christo and Jeanne-Claude haven't worn down objectors sometimes, but the opponents of the Pont Neuf and the Reischstag and "The Gates" didn't change heart or decide they were being "mean-spirited." It's simply that another official finally arrived who was favorable, and had the power to approve the project over objections of others.

"The Gates" make for a spectacular film, and a particularly rich picure of public response to the work. More than with "Running Fence" or "Umbrellas," though the ideas is the same, we get a sense of how dramatic the opening is, with Mayor Bloomberg pulling open the first "Gate's" bright orange fabric. (Is "saffron" -- the word Jeanne-Claude insists on -- different from "orange"? Well, "saffron" is a prettier word, and also refers to the robes of Buddhist monks, which are fabric.) At first there were the big orange metal rectangular arches, severe and minimal. You can see them as ugly. Then all of a sudden with milling, excited crowd all around the park, the fabric drops down. The sheets are surprising in their size and length even to those who've seen the drawings. One is struck with the egotism, the irrationality, the invasiveness of the project; its bravery and audacity, Christo's courage and faith in the face of so much opposition over 24 years. Christo, with Jeanne-Claude, couldn't stop wandering around the park, almost goofy, almost a silly old man, "Look, cherie! Look! Look!" with childlike delight in his own creation.

The film records dozens of reactions, mostly delighted now. It is, of course, perfect for fifth-graders, the ideal audience for art and new things. One lady calls a friend on her cell phone and says she must come, "The whole park is like a theater lobby," she says, "people milling around and chattering in different languages." Many observe that it should be up for a month, or all winter, that two weeks are not enough. But that too is the audacity and brilliance of the artists, to flicker this great, bright, expensive thing in front of everyone's faces, and then as quickly remove it, leaving just a colorful memory, and making fools of all those who said it was a defacement. "People who object are just bad sports," someone says. As always with Christo and Jeanne-Claude, you can debate this endlessly, and that is part of the work. The Maysles film again, better than ever, shows the whole, complex process of a major Christo work of art. Say what you like, these artists have had the power to transform, and probably enhance, the lives of many.

Ultimately, as the rather prolonged depiction of the public experience of "The Gates" (they had a lot of footage) shows, this was one of the artists' most "successful" projects in how neatly it came off, set up without hitches, shown without problems. As the smart black guy-on-the-street who gets the last word says, he personally liked "Umbrellas" better, but this one worked well as "just a work of art," that has no ultimate meaning, no message. You just look at it, and you pass on. But you walk through it, so you participate.

The Gates, 98 mins., debuted 6 May 2007 at the Tribeca Film Festival, NYC. Credited to Antonio Ferrera, Albert Maysles, David Maysles (still living when the early segments were made), and Matthew Prinzing. Not included in the Plexifilm edition that has the previous five of the Maysles' six Christo films, and not accompanied by a bonus commentary track as those others are. All the films in this thread were screened in connection with the Albert Maysles Memorial Film Festival organized by David L. Brown at the Vogue Theater in San Francisco, May 8 - 14, 2015.

[Chris Knipp]

ALBERT MAYSLES: IRIS (2014)

[This review originally appeared in Filmleaf coverage of the NYFF 2014.]



Style never grows old

As the percentage of citizens who are older increases, more attention is drawn to their activities, one of which appears to be dressing up. Hence there is a new film by Lina Plioplyte called Advanced Style, about Ari Cohen, a blogger and photographer who focuses on older women he finds stylish. A couple of years ago there was Bill Cunningham: New York, about the tireless octogenarian New York Times lensman with the old-fashioned Bostonian accent who snaps stylish men and women on the streets of Manhattan and at chic galas, as he has done for decades. Cunningham makes several fleeting appearances in the New York Film Festival's documentary sidebar film Iris, which not only spotlights the remarkable eighty-something fashionista Iris Apfel and her loving husband, who celebrates his hundredth birthday in the film, but is shot by the veteran documentary filmmaker Albert Maysles, who himself is eighty-seven.

Iris is about style as flamboyance. Nothing understated; nothing modest, but asserted by a simple pin, in Iris' looks, which involve bright-colored ensembles, mixing clothes from the famous designers with secondhand finds. But the key to her effects is something she says her mother taught her: accessorize, accessorize, accessorize. And does she ever. Iris piles on heavy necklaces and bracelets that must weigh as much as her small frame. She's a slight woman, with close-cropped white hair and signature big round glasses. Their shape never varies, though the frame colors do and the lenses shift from dark to clear.

Albert Maysles (whose brother and filmmaking partner died in the Eighties) chose a good time to cover Iris Apfel, because she seems to move from being known in the fashion trade to becoming downright famous during the period documented. In the film, we find that a show put on about her by the Metropolitan Museum, which went on tour to other locations, each in her view better than the last, is as a result living the life of a celebrity, despite her husband's increasing age and her own health problems (a broken hip, which she conceals from her husband). She is frequently interviewed, is photographed by the likes of Bruce Weber (a longtime admirer) lectures to young women about fashion, and is seen shopping and bargaining for clothes and accessories, including in Harlem. More about this than about Iris and her husband's business careers, though passing mention is made of her company making reproductions of old fabrics, and her interior designing. These must have been profitable? At least they have impressive, richly jumbled digs on Park Avenue and in Palm Springs, in addition to a huge storage warehouse for her endless accumulations in Long Island City.

It is a basic principle for Iris that being "pretty" isn't important, and is ephemeral. Though images of her earlier in her sixty-six year marriage show she was quite a good-looking woman, she is an eccentric peacock rather than a swan. Style (and ego) are excellent preservatives. The other message of the film is positivity. Iris's good humor and wit are evident in her every utterance, and also in her husband's. Clearly their attitudes and their loving marriage have added life to their years that anyone would envy, or take as a role model.

As Maysles documentaries go, this is a minor one, enjoyable though it is. The Maysles are most famous for Salesman (1968), Gimme Shelter (1970) and Grey Gardens (1975)[/i]. They beautifully documented Christo's Valley Curtain (1974) and Running Fence (1977) and Christo in Paris (1990). There are several films showing the older Horowitz, The Last Romantic (1985) and Horowitz Plays Mozart (1987) But there are many others. Not to be confused with D.A. Pennebaker (which I was doing), who is famous for the iconic 1967 Boy Dylan movie Don't Look Back, as well as Monterey Pop.

Iris, 83 mins., was screened for this review as part of the Spotlight on Documentary series of the 52nd New York Film Festival, the film's world premiere. Albert Maysles passed away in March 2015 and this was his penultimate film. The final one is In Transit, a coming documentary that explores the stories of passengers aboard the long-distance train The Empire Builder (shown at Tribeca 2015). Iris opened theatrically in NYC Wed., 28 April 2015.