The other cousin urged me to rent the movie, “Valentino, the Last Emperor,” so I did. Now I don’t want to send it back. You want to talk “tall?” These models are about nine feet tall. What’s interesting is that all the dresses presented in depth (esp. a white one that’s hard to explain as well as a filmy red one) are floor-length or just a tiny bit longer. Valentino evidently hates the idea of women having legs! The red one offended him because it was thin enough that even with two layers of material, the model’s legs could be seen in outline. Another one, sent back for redesign, was just short enough that the model kicked it up a bit when she walked, which revealed her ankles. “There is nothing so disgusting as seeing a woman’s ankles revealed when she walks!” he raged. Nor was he tolerant at the top end. A socialite is wearing a flatter-fronted model’s version of a low-cut gown. “Darling, your boobs are falling out,” he remarks critically.
He likes asymmetry, surprise, even near-incompletion, as in the famous white dress, columnar, impossibly pleated in a mille tiny creases which are interspersed with ruffles that start tiny at the top and become wide at the bottom, cascading scallops that ripple like water when the model moves. There was much discussion of whether silver sequins should be added to the ruffles. They were, in an edging that was a little tricky since one ruffle tended to catch on another. But that was not so controversial as Valentino’s decision to leave two of the ruffles off. Just spaces where they would have been. The less sophisticated of the critics thought it looked like an omission, a deficiency. V. thought it was playful, a way of not going “over the top.” Finally, flouncing away in a fit of resentment, he allowed the ruffles to be added. But they weren’t HIS fault!
It has slowly dawned on me that Valentino’s perfect woman is a mermaid about nine feet long. I will never qualify. These creations are an art form, not practical clothes, though V. says they are. Maybe they’re practical for women with money and the right bodies. They are an art form for rich men to escort on their arms in clean warm places.
When the dresses and suits were short, the seven-foot-long legs of the models were thin as wire in patterned sheer black nylons and four-inch heels, as they carefully placed each foot in front of the other so they swayed like tigers. V.’s “muse,” a princess who gives advice, was thin but not painted. She was nearly left out of this film, just noted in passing. The women in the workroom were REAL. (Have you seen that series from the BBC “The House of Elliott” with its wonderful portrait of sewing workrooms?) In fact, V. throws one real hizzy fit -- it’s over the hair of the models, which the hair-dresser wants to make into a huge frizzy bush, while V. wants severe buns. He doesn’t become violent. He just exits, crying no-no-no-no! The head seamstress goes into her own tempest when a gorgeous cocoa-colored evening gown seems to have what she considers to be a poorly-sewn bust. With ripper and needle, she goes to work herself, saying it is a whole day’s work, and when others try to interfere, she storms off with cocoa chiffon trailing and catching behind her.
The great peacemaker is Valentino’s partner, Giametti. He’s the one to love. V. does.
"tedalexandre", a commenter on imdb.com, writes an excellent essay on the larger scene. He says, “Tyrnauer simply lifts the curtain on Valentino's gorgeous, frantic, fragile universe and watches it collapse; a dying star, shining brightest as it implodes.”
“Five years later, while Italian homosexuality remains a specifically complicated knot to unravel, a paradigm shift has occurred. The presupposition that the men are gay, as are the majority of their peers and male colleagues, is a mute presence in the film, while the expressive energy of the men's post-sexual relationship drives the film and their careers equally.”
These are the kind of gay men I grew to know in college through theatre classes. Though now I’m well aware there are many other kinds of gay men, I can’t help feeling enormous affection for this kind. Somehow, in spite of their enormous sophistication and opulence, they seem innocent to me. Indeed, these two were shocked and horrified when they saw the movie and they tried to kill it. Only audience positive reaction saved the film. Thank goodness!
In the end the two men blew a quarter of a million euros on a spectacular festival event in Rome. With a red-washed Coliseum in the background, and the most fabulous dresses on mannequins suspended in rows on the walls of an enormous hall, the evening sky was occupied by dancers suspended in the sky, dresses twice as long as they were, trailing beneath them as they swam back and forth, scattering roses while rockets bloomed through the sky behind them and Callas' voice filled the twilight with arias. The finale was a hot air balloon, ascending with a woman in white floating underneath. As Valentino said, it was “unrepeatable!” Sure enough, the conglomerate that bought him out simply presided over the crash of the House of Valentino while the spirit swam off into the sky.
V. had stopped at the beginning of festivities just long enough to give Gianini a gift: a very thin bangle of diamonds which Gianini was careful to expose to the camera whenever it looked for him. The camera also caught the glitter of both partner’s eyes, flooded with love and gratitude for each other. It was theatre -- no, it was opera.
Put against this ecstatic crescendo the knowledge that all those sewing ladies were there and their eyes were also wet. And if you want to take all this into your own life, there are Valentino patterns to sew at home at: Valentino - Vintage Sewing Patterns
Valentino's trademark red colour, known as rosso Valentino, is a combination of 100% magenta, 100% yellow and 10% black (CMYK color model).
1 comment:
I recently loved watching this documentary too. I loved reading this because I missed a lot of what you mentioned, so I have to watch it again!
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