82 is the New 22—So Move Over, Kids

Since the documentary “Bill Cunningham New York” was not showing in the suburbs, a friend and I took the train to the city. The movie, which opened March 16th, was sold out at the West Village IFC.

While we were in line, a man who turned out to be a columnist for the magazine Cineaste (about cinema art and politics) said, “I don’t know why this film is still hanging around. What’s the big deal about Cunningham?”

What’s the big deal!? Are you kidding? About an 82-year-old man who has been standing on street corners, rain or shine, for over fifty years, enthusiastically and devotedly photographing street fashion, most notably for The New York Times Style Section? 

A world-wide legend, Bill Cunningham has been one of my heroes since my first job in the city at Harper’s Bazaar. I’d walk to work across West  57th Street and Cunningham would be at the corner of Fifth Avenue, one of his favorite roosts, snapping away. Sometimes I’d get up early to stand against the wall at Van Cleef & Arpels and watch for a few minutes. I always thought he moved like Fred Astaire, particularly when dodging an oncoming bus.

At first glance, maybe what Cunningham does for a living sounds frivolous. But the movie shows that he’s a man who lives a spartan, private life spending as much time chronicling ordinary lives as he does bold-face fashion and big-money names. He does it unobtrusively, with intelligence and modesty.

Cunningham treats all fashionistas with the same democratic respect--whether they’re in the fashion industry, doyennes, models, peacocks or cross-dressers, even office workers—if their outfit is worthy of catching his eye.

What’s the big deal, as well, about “Win Win,” a smallish film staring Paul Giamatti that’s showing in a couple of Westchester movie theatres, about a not-so-bright, middle-aged, failing attorney and father of three who makes some bad decisions while trying to stay afloat financially? His character seems marginal by showboating Charlie Sheen standards, but his struggle to get back on track has simple value.

There is another big deal. One is that these movie theaters were packed—with older audiences—people my age and older.

Granted, I like a good mainstream movie, too; I saw “Limitless” the week it opened.  As I’ve gotten older, however, I have less interest in the moves that “younger” audiences turn out for —movies that are formulaic and dependent on the noise of car crashes, explosives, and piles of deaths to make the time go by.

I prefer a movie that gives something to think about and inspires me. Clearly I’m not alone, because rather than being shunted aside by a youth-obsessed culture, I’m part of an over-45 market that has some movie muscle.

A February 25th New York Times story quoted Nancy Utley, co-president of Fox Searchlight (who released “Black Swan”)  saying that if the over-fifty set is the core audience for a film, “that’s a gigantic core.” Baby Boomers have made movies such as “The Social Network” and “The King’s Speech” hits “based on wit and storytelling, not special effects.”  Filmmakers are taking note.

At the end of the movie, I asked the Cineaste columnist seated in front of us, what he thought. “The movie had its problems,” he said, “but Cunningham is incredible.”

Cunningham himself embodies the notion that a person will always be timeless if you choose a profession you love, and live your life as best you can—and here are two old-fashioned notions--with integrity and modesty. Surprisingly, the French are apparently more appreciative of this than we are, awarding Cunningham his only formal recogntion--the French Ministry of Culture's Order of Arts and Letters for his body of work and humility.

I’m not going to ruin the Cunningham movie by telling you too much. But I’ll tell you that rather than being ferried up and downtown into the wee hours of a New York morning by a Town Car and driver while covering a string of events, he pedals a Schwinn with a bottomless supply of energy.

And I’ll tell you that his integrity and compassion are such that he left Women’s Wear Daily early in his career when they added mean-spirited captions about some of the women he photographed. He has freelanced without pay to have full control of his stories: “Liberty, freedom is the most expensive thing,” Cunningham says in the movie. I couldn’t tell if it was an old-fashioned or timeless notion, or whether he sounded like a seasoned pro or a naïve upstart.

There is one incredibly intimate moment in which a question about going to Sunday Mass causes the perpetually jovial and gracious Cunningham to suddenly drop his head, hiding his face as his shoulders sag, and he silently cries. That moment of sorrow over private moments in life, of compassion for a fellow human being who shows the world a sunny side, resonated around the theater, respectfully silent for a long moment.

I wondered if a younger generation would be interested in these two movies about the lives of older people, whether documentary or fiction. And I realized it didn’t matter, the breadth of life has more power than caricature.

At few points did I think of Cunningham as old, or age-specific. Mostly I--and a packed house-- was enthralled with his exuberance for life, for his sweeping knowledge about his field, for the excitement and thirst he has for learning and evolving.  Every day that he goes to work—which is nearly every day--Cunningham could very easily embody someone at 22 on their first dream job, only far better, of course.

Katherine Ann Samon is the author of four books, including Dates From Hell and Ranch House Style. Her column, "Woman of a Certain Age", about starting over and enjoying life after 40, will appear twice a month on Rye Patch. Katherine can be reached at kathsam@aol.com, or visit www.katherineannsamon.com.