During a cutaway, we smile with recognition, as the cameraman(who we come to know as Bob) points the lens toward Anna Wintour's assistant, who is answering the phone. It's one of her Emilys, we think, and think again: What's her real name? Instead of using the more formal "Anna" while addressing the caller, she refers to the Vogue maven as "Ann". For most people, the not-so-beautiful people, first familiarized with the heightened world of "haute coutre" through "The Devil Wears Prada", this throwaway moment will make them wonder: Did she make a mistake, referring to this imposing taste-maker in such a casual manner? Were this the exaggerated comic world of the Meryl Streep vehicle, in which Wintour's stand-in acted pompously unreasonable every chance she had with her assistant Andy(Anne Hathaway), the "fat" girl(a size six, but smart), this assistant would get a raised eyebrow, or worse, from her boss, who seems far too austere for a girlish name like Ann. This young, nondescript woman, who we never learn the name of, reminds us as to why "The September Issue" interested us in the first place. We want Wintour to behave badly("My name is Anna, you twit! You're fired!"), some sort of wickedness to validate the film, and novel.
Anna Wintour is nothing like Miranda Preistly in "The September Issue", but we suspect the rolling cameras has something to do with her relatively congenial way with her colleagues and collaboraters. Instead of a boss from hell, the documentary captures a hard-working woman who's an exceedingly good editor, and comfortable in her own skin. Never one to back down from making tough decisions, Wintour alienates her partner-in-crime Grace Coddington(a former "Vogue" model turned art director), when she cuts the Welsh woman's favorite photograph from a fashion spread that is to be included in the magazine's season-starting issue. (September, we learn, is the fashion world's January.) Anna-haters, wanting to start something, might argue that Wintour knows the picture is a knockout, knows that Grace loves it, but yanks the baroque photo from publication for the sheer pleasure of seeing her longtime associate suffer. We consider the potential ramifications of being privileged enough, as Ms. Coddington is, to speak bluntly with a woman who people normally walk on eggshells around, let along, speak deferentially towards. Perhaps it's retribution, disguised as a shrewd, creative decision, this editorial killing, a reminder to Coddington, that she alone, Anna Wintour, is "de facto" boss of the "Vogue" empire. Since the well-spoken British woman(who is sixty-eight) comes across as a person without the usual pretentiousness associated with fashion industry types, we take her side, grandma's side. "Vogue", however, reflects Wintour's point-of-view, and the venerable fashion magazine continues to be the industry's bible under her stewardship, her "genius". Like a filmmaker who shoots great footage but can't make it work in the editing room, Wintour, perhaps, is an aesthetic genius; she has an innate understanding that the beloved photo doesn't work in the context of the overall spread. Then again, Wintour surrounds herself with so many sycophants, who believe the likes and dislikes of this single woman is like a blessing or condemnation from the pope, it's easy to dismiss this daughter of a newspaper man as the lucky recipient of an industry's self-perpetuating myth.
To a certain extent, "The September Issue" performs an exorcism of sorts on Ms. Wintour, but the devil that Laura Weisenberg(a former Wintour assistant) cheekily diagnosed in her celebrated novel, re-enters the editor, in spite of the video repellent, the camera, which functions as both a cross and holy water. Wintour, the angel, reveals herself as a whitewashed "devil", in the scene where she makes a snide remark about the cameraman, a fat man, who appears in a photo that shows him jumping alongside a vertically inclined model. Her suggestion that Bob should visit a gym, offends Grace, a woman caught between her skinny past and zaftig present, cancels the touch-up to the cameraman's stomach. It's a glimpse into what Ms. Wintour is really like; a woman with nothing but contempt for outsiders. (In a television interview, she once compared the girth of some Minnesotan locals to "small houses".) And for the little people. Instead of shooting them(from time to time, we see cutaway shots of the low-end employees), we wish "The September Issue" gave them a voice. With some luck, perhaps the filmmaker might have stumbled across a disgruntled one, and dish about what really goes on behind closed doors.
Anna Wintour is nothing like Miranda Preistly in "The September Issue", but we suspect the rolling cameras has something to do with her relatively congenial way with her colleagues and collaboraters. Instead of a boss from hell, the documentary captures a hard-working woman who's an exceedingly good editor, and comfortable in her own skin. Never one to back down from making tough decisions, Wintour alienates her partner-in-crime Grace Coddington(a former "Vogue" model turned art director), when she cuts the Welsh woman's favorite photograph from a fashion spread that is to be included in the magazine's season-starting issue. (September, we learn, is the fashion world's January.) Anna-haters, wanting to start something, might argue that Wintour knows the picture is a knockout, knows that Grace loves it, but yanks the baroque photo from publication for the sheer pleasure of seeing her longtime associate suffer. We consider the potential ramifications of being privileged enough, as Ms. Coddington is, to speak bluntly with a woman who people normally walk on eggshells around, let along, speak deferentially towards. Perhaps it's retribution, disguised as a shrewd, creative decision, this editorial killing, a reminder to Coddington, that she alone, Anna Wintour, is "de facto" boss of the "Vogue" empire. Since the well-spoken British woman(who is sixty-eight) comes across as a person without the usual pretentiousness associated with fashion industry types, we take her side, grandma's side. "Vogue", however, reflects Wintour's point-of-view, and the venerable fashion magazine continues to be the industry's bible under her stewardship, her "genius". Like a filmmaker who shoots great footage but can't make it work in the editing room, Wintour, perhaps, is an aesthetic genius; she has an innate understanding that the beloved photo doesn't work in the context of the overall spread. Then again, Wintour surrounds herself with so many sycophants, who believe the likes and dislikes of this single woman is like a blessing or condemnation from the pope, it's easy to dismiss this daughter of a newspaper man as the lucky recipient of an industry's self-perpetuating myth.
To a certain extent, "The September Issue" performs an exorcism of sorts on Ms. Wintour, but the devil that Laura Weisenberg(a former Wintour assistant) cheekily diagnosed in her celebrated novel, re-enters the editor, in spite of the video repellent, the camera, which functions as both a cross and holy water. Wintour, the angel, reveals herself as a whitewashed "devil", in the scene where she makes a snide remark about the cameraman, a fat man, who appears in a photo that shows him jumping alongside a vertically inclined model. Her suggestion that Bob should visit a gym, offends Grace, a woman caught between her skinny past and zaftig present, cancels the touch-up to the cameraman's stomach. It's a glimpse into what Ms. Wintour is really like; a woman with nothing but contempt for outsiders. (In a television interview, she once compared the girth of some Minnesotan locals to "small houses".) And for the little people. Instead of shooting them(from time to time, we see cutaway shots of the low-end employees), we wish "The September Issue" gave them a voice. With some luck, perhaps the filmmaker might have stumbled across a disgruntled one, and dish about what really goes on behind closed doors.