Richard Press, Philip Gefter - 'Bill Cunningham New York' interview

Bill Cunningham New York is the easily one of the most delightful documentaries you’ll have the pleasure of seeing. In 2010 it took home the audience awards at both Sydney and Melbourne Film Festivals, and now, finally, it’s getting an Australian release.

Celebrating the vivacious life of bicycle-hopping New York Times photographer (and priceless fashion historian) Bill Cunningham, this feature debut by Richard Press is a collection of fantastic characters, dazzling fashion and his utterly humble and charming subject. Visiting New York earlier in the year, TheVine ventured to the West Village to sit down with Richard and his producer and partner Philip Gefter and discussed all things Bill.

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TheVine: I hate to start with the obvious question, but I have to know, how’s Bill?

Richard Press: Bill’s great. He hasn’t seen the movie. He knows what’s in it. He’s given us his blessing, but he just says, “Kids, you’ve made a movie. Have fun. I’m too busy.”
Philip Gefter: Shall I tell the funny story about when the movie opened?

Richard Press: [Nodding] It’s a funny story.

Philip Gefter: When the movie opened a month ago The [New York] Times reviewed it. So I went to Bill and I said, “Bill, have you seen the review in The Times?” He said, “Well, I was sitting here reading the paper and I turned the page, and there’s a picture of a photographer kneeling over shooting women’s shoes. And I thought to myself, ‘Who is that foot fetishist?’” This is Bill talking, so we both had a chuckle.

Richard Press: But then he said, “Then I realised it was me!”

Philip Gefter: So then I said, “Did you read the review?” And he said, “Oh I don’t know what all the fuss is about. But as long as it’s good for you and Richard [pronouncing it ‘Reechard’].” Now the thing is Bill calls us ‘Phillipe’ and ‘Reechard’ and we don’t know to this day whether he does that with affection or in mockery!

A little from column A, a little from column B, right?

Press: Exactly! Exactly!

Do you think Bill will eventually see the film?

Press: With Bill you just don’t know. It’s possible. I can’t imagine him going into a movie theatre and seeing it.

His nights are too busy!

Press: That’s the thing. He’s always working. It’s not like he’s just not going to see this movie. He doesn’t go to the movies. He doesn’t go to the theatre.

Maybe he’ll see it on the plane?

Press: When he goes to Paris for the collections! Oh that would be great.

Gefter: He’s never even listened to his On the Street narration that he does every week for The Times. He does it, but he doesn’t listen to it. I think he doesn’t want to see himself reflected back to himself. At all. I think that that would take him away from that purity he has.

Press: It’s just not on his radar screen. I think it so doesn’t concern him.

It’s interesting though, because later in life you feel like people tend to get a bit more reflective and think about their legacy. Was there ever that idea of reflection with Bill? Is that why he let you make the documentary?

Press: I think it was almost the opposite in terms of reflection. I think he actually doesn’t think he has a legacy; he doesn’t think what he does is important. And I think that’s truly sincere. He’s really just completely humble and modest, and he does not see the importance of the work he’s done.

Really?!

Press: He gets total pleasure out of it. And he knows he’s sharing something [but] he thinks it’s small. He thinks there are people who are interested, but it’s not something that would require a movie about a person, or that his archives would go to an institution.

But he keeps archives, so does that suggest...

Press: It’s for himself.

Gefter: It’s for his own reference. If he needs a picture, he knows where to find it.

Press: And he also jokes that he keeps the photos so he has them for the New York Times for the obituary. He jokes that he has it in case they need it for references.

Gefter: I write about photography, and I keep bringing up his archive to him and he just doesn’t want to talk about it.

But he’s a living archive!

Press: Exactly. He’s an historian.

Gefter: He’s chronicled the intersection between fashion and society for the last fifty years. And it is cultural anthropology. It’s an amazing resource. But he doesn’t see it that way.

His reticence does make you wonder: are we just the Oprah generation where we want to share and talk about everything? Bill is from an older generation that lives a quiet, reserved, dignified life. Do you think you kept hitting up against that? Wanting him to divulge more?

Press: For me, I wasn’t really interested in doing a biopic. I feel like the facts of his life are only interesting in that they give the contours of his life, but what I was really trying to capture was his spirit. And the way he’s chosen to live his life, and his joy for living and his obsession with his work. I think that says more about who he is than the biographical details. And I don’t think he defines himself by those either, they’re just not important. It’s not who he is. I think it’s actually in some way how he’s wired. He said, “When I was a kid I used to go to church and look at women’s hats.” That was when he was five. So what was interesting to me were not the facts of his life but the sort of more intangible things: his spirit.

This documentary was ten years in the making. It took you eight years to convince him to come on board. Now that’s a labour of love on your end as well. What finally won him over?

Press: The short version is that we wore him down! At one point I thought maybe he needed to be around a camera because he’s so shy. So I said to him, “Bill, I might be on the street with a camera, and if I’m there and I see you, I might film you.” So I go out on the street with a video camera - this is like eight years ago - and I film him for an hour, and he ignores me, and I’m very discrete. And then as he’s getting back on his bicycle, he looks at the camera and he waves me over and he says, “Come back to The New York Times if you want to film me doing my work there.” So I thought, “Oh my god, he’s going to let me make the movie.” I go back to The New York Times and I film him for the afternoon and at the end of the day he says, “Richard, that’s all there is. This is your movie, there’s nothing more to know. You have your movie.” I was like, “Oh no!” So I had all of this footage that I put away in a drawer. Then about three years ago, he was being given a living legend award in New York City at the Waldorf Astoria. He didn’t want to accept the award, he didn’t want to make a public appearance, so I said, “Well I have this footage, I’ll cut together a little three minute short film to show.” Which I did, and he saw it. He was actually there covering the event - not getting the award! [Laughs]

Just like in Paris, right?

Press: Exactly, exactly. So he saw the film and he really liked it. And The New York Times was there and they really liked it. So we started talking to them about them supporting us in making the movie, and Arthur Sulzberger Jr, the publisher, called up Bill and said, “Bill, Richard and Philip want to make this movie and we want to support them, so it’s time.” So it was all those factors: that Bill kind of saw that I got him, his relationship with Philip, because they’ve been very close for fifteen years...

Gefter: What did you call me?

Press: ‘The Bill Whisperer’. I call Philip ‘The Bill Whisperer’ because Philip was very instrumental in sort of navigating Bill into getting his cooperation. Because even when Bill agreed to do the movie, he didn’t really agree to do it. It was constantly a negotiation getting him [to] allow us to film him. I lived at The New York Times for a year with a camera, but I wasn’t shooting all the time because...

Gefter: You had to navigate his mood.

Press: When he was ready. It wasn’t even his mood, it was more...

Gefter: His work.

Press: His work. He just wants to do his work. He’s allergic to any attention. It was so anathema to him. We had to find the right time when it didn’t intrude on what he was doing.

And show him that respect.

Press: Exactly. It was more about that. But over time, he eventually introduced us to his neighbours at Carnegie Hall. He started to open up. And so it really became this revealing of the man mirroring the filming of the movie.

You feel that. That he’s letting you in and you’re letting the audience in. And to that end, the adage of ethnography is that the very act of observing something changes it. Do you think you affected Bill in that way?

Gefter: I don’t think so at all. I think that that was part of the navigation as well. Allowing Bill the organic flow of what he does and just to be there as a kind of observer and witness, which is what we do. I mean every once in a while by the very nature of sitting down and having a conversation with him, that might have changed what he does as a matter of course, but it all felt very pure to what he was, even though the camera was there.

Press: The thing is, the movie was made really unconventionally. There was no camera crew, there was no sound person, no boom operator. I had these tiny little cameras, so it looked like we were hanging out. Or I was just invisible. There was no spectacle; it was very discrete. And I was really trying to be invisible the way he is with his subjects.

Gefter: There was a sum total of three of us at any time. Or less. There was Richard, myself and Tony [Cenicola] who is the other cameraman. And Bill knew all of us, so it wasn’t as if we were these strangers. We understood who he is, so it just allowed for more organic flow than I think the camera somehow altering what was going on around him.

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