Dolph Lundren, Grace Jones…photo by Helmut Newton
“HELMUT NEWTON: THE BAD AND THE BEAUTIFUL” My rating: B (Available July 24 on Kino Marquee)
93 minutes | No MPAA rating
As with few other photographers (Ansel Adams and Robert Mapplethorpe immediately come to mind) the late Helmut Newton’s images cannot be mistaken for those of any other artist.
Newton (1920-2004) worked in fashion and his most regular employer was Vogue magazine. But even when his stated assignment was to capture on film some item of apparel he still managed to work his sexual preoccupations and perverse sense of humor into the equation.
Though he frequently photographed the famous (Margaret Thatcher, David Bowie), Newton’s main fame rests on his nudes. Though they’ve been classified as erotica, many find them anything but enticing.
No come-hither looks. No languid poses.
Newton’s women usually present themselves to us in-yer-face naked from top to high-heeled bottom, appproaching the camera defiantly and largely indifferent to the viewer’s gaze. This is the nude body as chilly, intimidating bulwark.
Elements of sado-masochism are not uncommon.
Some critics (Susan Sontag, famously) found his work essentially misogynistic; others, including many of the young women who were his models, regard their time with Newton as empowering.
Getting to the root of that conundrum is the underlying thread of “Helmut Newton: The Bad and the Beautiful” by documentarian Gero von Boehm, whose six-part “A Brief History of the World” is one of the highest rated documentaries ever on German television.
Helmut Newton
Von Boehm carefully interweaves vintage interviews with Newton, recent talking-head commentaries from friends and subjects like Charlotte Rampling, Isabella Rossellini, Grace Jones, Claudia Schiffer, Marianne Faithful and Anna Wintour, and dozens of Newton’s photographs.
If in the end the essential Helmut Newton remains elusive, one can only take comfort that he would have found that terribly amusing.
“I’m a professional voyeur,” the photography asserts, adding that he has little interest in his subject’s inner lives. What you see is what he gets.
If in his work Newton wore his obsessions on his sleeve, he apparently was a joyful collaborator. His models loved the opportunity to let down their hair and play roles for his camera; many describe their Newton shoots as the most pleasurable of their careers.
Surrounded by all that flesh, did Newton ever succumb? Hard to say. None of the models suggest any impropriety. And Newton’s photographer wife Alice Springs aka June Browne (they were married for five decades) was often present on the set.
Family friends suggest it was a open marriage, with both parties allowed the occasional peccadillo.
Certainly what emerges from this documentary is less the impression of a dirty old man than that of a puckish father figure who enticed an entire industry to get on board with his personal obsessions.
| Robert W. Butler
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