We’ve all seen a Richard Avedon photo once in our lives. The late photographer (1923-2004) established a career by capturing the truth of human beings, as well as capturing them in their authentic state. His notion to photograph people in their naturalistic element, no matter who they were, where they are, and if static or in motion, made him one of the most prolific and memorable photographers in history. Avedon, the most recent documentary directed by Ron Howard, provides a celebratory portrait of his life and career. The film is driven by the archival footage narration of Avedon and the captivating anecdotes of those who were in close proximity to the late visionary.
In the first production to receive this support, the Richard Avedon Foundation granted Howard and his production team unprecedented access to all the photographer’s works, including his collection of photographs, home videos, BTS recordings, and personal archives. Much of the extensive archival material gives the film a great personalized glimpse into the subject’s psyche and his artistic mode of operation.
A Perfectionist’s Voice: Balancing Art, Commerce, and Subversion
The story of Avedon is mostly told through his own words, which are taken from a collection of interview recordings. Regardless of whether you are well aware of him or not, he is a perfectionist with a large personality. His direct aura and his passion for his artistry steer our engagement. The editing does a good job of matching his descriptive voice with the supplementary material that coincides, whether it be the unseen photoshoots or footage.
For many unfamiliar with his work, it provides a fascinating guidebook to his 60-year-spanning work involving documenting working commonfolk in underrepresented communities, being a muse for Fred Astaire’s character in the Audrey Hepburn film Funny Pages and providing photography on that film, shooting for Charlie Chaplin before he skedaddled from the US, shooting opera singer Marie Anderson, the Civil War, and his commercial work where he coined the “My Calvins” campaign. It’s enlightening for sure—learning about him and James Baldwin, who were high school friends, fascinated me immensely, especially the side of Avedon’s mother hitting her doorman for being racist towards Baldwin when he came over to visit.
The film deconstructs the cards of capitalism and the conflicts he had to face in pursuit of his passion. Having to go into commercial work to fund his personal art, mostly to document the underrepresented communities. Then when tapped to photograph people more powerful than him with so many demands, clashing with his signature specialty in documenting people at their most vulnerable, he’d have subtle ways of taking his power and artistic integrity back. A tidbit regarding a Nancy Reagan photoshoot that had her face retouched but not her hands, sent me into a frenzy of excitement.
The Flattery and Guardrails of an Authorized Portrait
When not narrated from him, the film nests talking head interviews from his former employees, collaborators (Calvin Klein, Isabella Rossellini, and Lauren Hutton), and son, John F. Avedon, all illuminating Avedon’s alluring light even further. Howard also rounds it out with many historians and art dealers, most of whom help give clarity and descriptions of his style and its uniqueness against the late 20th century fashion photography culture. Yet some easily falter towards others’ hollow nothingness, praising and worshiping his work, particularly by its conclusion, which bogs Avedon’s weight down.
Perhaps it is the foundation of it all but does keep his personal life and his temperamental workplace behavior at arm’s length. Interviewees say it themselves how he kept his personal life to his chest. Avedon does inspect the fractured family dynamic shared between his neglectful father, who enforces academia onto him, and his generational cycle; he tried to break with his son, imposing creativity onto him. Then with the latter, the only description you have with his short temper is one involving being enraged when learning on his last day former assistant Sebastian Kim took a position with photographer Steven Meisel, forced him to leave in public, and then months later emailed him an apology. Kim feels that email being a closure seems to be the only reason why it’s left in.
Conventional Direction and the Final Verdict
It’s worth noting that Avedon was a title at Cannes that Netflix acquired a few months following. So I don’t want to write it off as a Netflix trademark bio-doc, but it is as slight as one from Howard, as you can expect. There’s nothing to write home about outside “Okay, that was interesting,” and I can see photography students and enthusiasts would get a kick out of it. But in structure and execution, it’s another well-made yet dime-a-dozen bio-doc.
At the time of this writing, Netflix wants to position for Oscars, which, in the year of You Can See Everything and after last year’s The Perfect Neighbor, is laughable. It’s among the same as most docs on the platform, and being directed by Ron Howard doesn’t boost its quality either. However, All the Beauty and the Bloodshed is more significant and insightful than even photography bio-documentaries.
Nevertheless Avedon is a well-crafted and enticing biography of the eponymous photographer’s influential career and his impact on 20th century photography and fashion. One many up-and-coming ones can learn a thing or two from.
Similar Documentaries to Watch Next
- All the Beauty and the Bloodshed (2022)
- Helmut Newton: The Bad and the Beautiful (2020)
- The Salt of the Earth (2014)
- Bill Cunningham New York (2010)
- Annie Leibovitz: Life Through a Lens (2007)