The Man Who Makes Dreams’ Review

i Thom Browne: The Man Who Builds DreamsGerman documentary filmmaker Rainer Holzimmer, whose recent work includes films on the fashion houses of Dries Van Noten and Martin Margiela, tackles a designer who hates an instantly recognizable aesthetic but introspection. This makes Brown somewhat of a distant subject, an enigma, as a friend and colleague describes it. He prefers to keep the creative spark tucked away inside his head and let his clothes speak for themselves.

But wow, can those clothes talk? In the workrooms and especially in the extensive footage of the runways, it appears that liberally blends the whimsical with the whimsical – all coordinated with the most minute detail – this spectacular-looking Dr. Spot. A collection of lights that fuses impeccable construction with whimsy and cheeky humor.

Holzimmer seems aware of the potential imbalance between personal and professional reach, which makes it a smart strategy to start by dazzling our eyes with an image of startlingly dramatic effects. To the sound of swelling strings, a proscenium safety curtain slowly rises to reveal the ornate golden auditorium of the Palais Garnier in Paris, where cardboard cutouts of each of the nearly 2,000 seats depict Thom Browne’s gray suit and robes. The fountains have been captured. The effect is unreal.

Two male “porters” sporting the dapper suit and pleated skirt combo that is a cornerstone of Brown’s gender-fluid approach – worn by stars including Oscar Isaac, Le Pace and David Harbor – step on stage and a cluster of matching accessories. collect

A model in a vertical platform and a more multi-layered version of the same outfit then enter and take a seat on her suitcase, as if waiting for a train. The show that unfolds (with fashion journalists, buyers and celebrity clients sitting around the stage) represents what she observes. It includes fellow travelers, railway officials, a gargoyle in sculptural headpieces and a chic dove (by British milliner Stephen Jones, a regular Brown collaborator).

That July 2023 show was Brown’s Haute Couture Week debut, making him one of relatively few American designers to present work alongside such storied names as Dior, Chanel, Schiaparelli and Valentino. But if Brown is nervous, it doesn’t show as he makes last-minute adjustments to the models backstage and looks contentedly at the monitor. He is not at all like the self-dramatizing designers who scurry furiously through so many fashion docs, barking instructions and then collapse into an exhausted heap once the collection is sent out into the world.

Having such a gentle, seemingly always calm and kind subject is both a distinction and a flaw in Holzimmer’s film. Not that every fashionista has to deal with constant crises to be interesting, but the doc is light enough on controversy, drama and personal details that it can’t be gleaned from past profiles or even a Wikipedia page. That sometimes it almost feels the same. Promotional video – albeit a deluxe one. It’s beautiful, but it has no edge.

The briefest mention is of nearly shutting down in early 2009 due to the financial crisis, but the company weathered the storm and bounced back. Commenting on Adidas’ unsuccessful attempt to sue Brown for infringing its three-stripes trademark, the designer’s partner, Andrew Bolton, who heads the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute, says: That his integrity was to be publicly questioned during the 2023 trial. Hard for Brown. But we hear nothing to that effect from the man himself.

The closest the film comes to capturing the actual drama is when MJ Rodriguez walks the runway at a show in 2023 and a crew member gasps at the monitor, “He doesn’t have a jacket!” But the slip was quickly laughed off after the show with an admission that when Rodriguez walked in an unfinished dress, he made it work.

The doctor is very relaxed. Almost every talking head is identified by “and friend” after their profession. Interviewers praise Brown’s tailoring skills or his boundless imagination, his technical prowess or his conceptual courage, his individuality though always starting from a base of gray suit uniformity.

It’s all a bit too chummy. Pace is tagged as an “actor,” with no mention that she is married to Brown’s VP of Marketing and Communications, Matthew Foley. Anna Wintour teams up with Bolton every year at the Met Gala, where Brown’s custom designs always make a splash. Even celebrity clients can seem like spokespeople (although Cardi B is a riot). This keeps the document tightly controlled, always a risk in an authorized non-fiction film about a living subject.

What is missing is an outside perspective, a critical voice. Bolton talks about an early showing of Brown’s Pee-wee Herman-style shrunken suits in London, where proud Savile Row tailors were primarily horrified at the altered proportions. But talking heads range from simply admiring to barking.

This is somewhat understandable, given that the subject of the film is a true American success story. But it makes for an anemic narrative when there is so little that the luxury fashion enthusiast doesn’t already know. It’s like a coffee table book — heavy on illustrations, light on text.

As Bolton recalls how they met and fell in love, and Brown go through their evening routine, going for drinks after work, ordering dinner and generally watching a movie at home. Finally, a glimpse of more intimate access. Home, by the way, is a red-brick mansion on Manhattan’s East Side that was originally built around 1920 for Ann Vanderbilt, which she shares with Brown’s dachshund Hector — the dog we named Hand. Affected the bag.

For those unfamiliar with Brown’s story, the film works its way through the basics quite enthusiastically: the Allentown, PA, origins; competitive swimming years at Notre Dame; Short stab at breaking into acting in Los Angeles; And the humble beginnings of his fashion line in 2003, running a make-to-map business from a one-room apartment in New York, based on a collection of five patterned suits he wore around town, initially on the street. Made fun of and raising eyebrows even among your friends.

Gradually, Brown’s bold reinvention of the most traditional garment in any well-dressed mid-century American man’s wardrobe, the gray suit, became influential. Snug jackets, cropped pants, and an inch or two of bare ankles popped up everywhere. As the business grew, so did the scale and theatrics of the runway shows. The expansion of women’s clothing reinforced the refusal to be limited by gender. “It really doesn’t matter who wears what,” says Wintour.

The Spring 2018 collection was a breakthrough moment, when Brown sent male models down the runway in modified versions of his women’s collection. Turns out men can look powerful and masculine in skirts. That same year, Brown sold a majority stake in the company to Italy’s Ermenegildo Zegna Group for $500 million.

Brown doesn’t talk about influences—Wintour notes early in the film that she never concerned herself with what anyone else was doing, focusing 100 percent on her own vision. . But he often returns to the basic principle of homogeneity, building on the original American stereotype—the sportsman, the jock, the businessman, the cowboy, the prom couple, the Upper East Side WASP—and subverting them. Think oversized coats with football jersey numbers on the back. Tweedy plaid skirt suit embroidered with lobsters.

Regardless of Doc’s shortcomings in terms of insight, analysis or even making clothes, Brown’s visual backdrop of 20 years in the business is consistently eye-catching and will delight the fashion faithful.

Models bring drama, while shows bring fantasy. Runway presentations that draw from it. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland or little prince support Bolton’s observation that his colleague’s work straddles the cusp of childhood and youth, innocence and experience. He explains that although Brown is generally a happy, optimistic person, there is a vein of melancholia running through his shows.

A funeral-themed presentation begins with models rising from coffins, creating a story around two women with broken hearts. The doctors, unable to heal them, turn into angels who accompany them to heaven when their brilliantly dressed friends come to mourn. The other takes place in a large typing pool furnished with identical desks. The men come to work, hang up their identical trench coats and sit down to work in identical suits, each of them placing an apple on the boss’s desk at the end of their shift. The show is regimented, minimal and yet playful.

Wearability isn’t always a prime concern, evidenced perhaps most clearly by a show in Paris that paid homage to French tweeds while pairing them with iconic men’s sportswear. Men wear crop tops (or in one case a tiny crochet bikini top) with low-riding micro minis or shorts, revealing plenty of Thom brown jockstraps and a two-inch bum cleavage. The last look on the runway, traditionally the bride’s spot, goes to a shepherdess who sports a curly blue sequined fringe.

Even if Brown himself emerges as less of an open book than the film, his designs speak volumes, from basics to extravagant fashion fantasies. One interviewee points out a key paradox that gives the designer’s work its sense of fun: “He celebrates uniformity in a very vulgar way.” The place of self-expression within this homogeneity is what makes Brown’s clothes so fascinating and makes this documentary worth watching despite its frustrations.