McQueen Finds Tragedy in the Business of Fashion

A recurring image in McQueen, the elegant if straightforward new documentary about the life and times of the notoriously daring fashion designer Alexander McQueen, is that of a skull. Grim, grisly, and, in McQueens hands, darkly sexy, skulls were a hallmark of the late designers looks—his iconic, oft-imitated skull scarf, which debuted in 2003 and got a Damien Hirst-led anniversary revamp 10 years later, is one of his most enduring creations. Seeing it here, at the start of each new chapter of the documentary, is, in a way, an affectionate nod to those designs, and to the masterfully dark imagination of the man who dreamt them up. But its a sinister harbinger, too, of the pain to come in his story.

Directed by Ian Bonhôte and Peter Ettedgui, with a notably lush musical score by McQueen collaborator and famed British composer Michael Nyman, McQueen is a painful but energetic portrait of an artist, a visual tribute to a designer whose obsessions, kinks, and personal trauma were all profound ingredients in his lifes work—even more than anyone looking in from the outside could have known at the time. The films methods are familiar, but accordingly satisfying. Its a sturdy composite of talking-head interviews with friends, family, ex-boyfriends, and collaborators; personal and TV footage of McQueen throughout the years, largely amounting to an incredible compendium of one-off remarks and sound bites that reveal his attitude and devilish sense of humor; and—perhaps most importantly—gloriously generous servings of McQueens storied runway shows throughout the years, which ran the gamut from outright moral effrontery to widely embraced, undeniable genius.

The idea behind it all, one quickly realizes, is to reveal the ways in which McQueens designs were of a piece with his tumultuous inner life—an old idea. Thankfully, Bonhôte and Ettedgui, aided by McQueens friends and mentors, dont leave it there. They also remind us of just how much McQueens visionary style and success owed to his consummate skill—not just his pain. McQueen died of suicide in 2010, and the documentary doesnt sell the tragedy of that event short.

But in contrast to a tilt toward sensationalism in recent documentaries about tragic artists (Asif Kapadias Oscar-winning Amy, about the late Amy Winehouse, comes to mind), McQueen notably avoids lapsing into an exploitative game of connect-the-dots between the sordid details of his life and his suicide. Even as, midway through, news of drug abuse and depression begins to creep steadily into the film, lending his ensuing death an air of fateful inevitability, McQueen isnt really an account of how the designer died but, rather, how he lived, how he worked, and how this was all ingeniously encompassed in the clothes he made.

The film proceeds chronologically and, truthfully, some of the most insightful bits arrive early on, when we learn of McQueens natural aptitude for tailoring; even Savile Row types at Anderson & Sheppard, where he apprenticed, were overwhelmed by the unassuming East End boys talent. We learn of his hunger to get better: his spur of the moment move to Italy, where he quickly nabbed a job as the assistant to Romeo Gigli, and his time at Central Saint Martins, where he eventually earned a degree in fashion design—to say nothing of stirring up the jealousy of his classmates, who all knew, just as anyone whod seen his work knew, that McQueen was the real deal. You cant teach talent is the running theme. But you should nurture it.

McQueen, the youngest of six children, was born Lee Alexander McQueen in 1969 to a taxi-driver father and a teacher mother. His background was humble, and an essential through line in McQueen, even after the designer gets big, is money. Theres a stunning anecdote, from a friend, about leaving one of McQueens headline-making shows, McQueen in tow—and having to eat hamburgers theyd accidentally dropped on the floor of a McDonalds, because they didnt have enough money to buy more. Money, too, seems to have affected McQueens friendship with his muse and icon Isabella Blow, who also died of suicide, in 2007, and who is described in the documentary as having felt shunned when, after nabbing the creative director job at Givenchy, McQueen denied her a job.

McQueen was multifaceted; you cant help but notice the shabby ways he dressed early in his career, an almost comical contrast to the practically alien, impeccably tailored designs hed send careening down his runways. He was a maker of glamour; he wasnt, himself, glamorous—until he was. We watch him transform from a chubby, unassuming East Ender to a svelte and designer-chic icon, a physical change brought on by liposuction. Friends interviewed in the film suggest this shift brought on further distress, a sense of distance from who he really was.

And who was he, really? It wouldnt be a portrait of an artist without some speculation—or in this case, confirmed backstory involving various forms of abuse—as to just what inspired the designers most radical work. McQueens designs were gorgeously considered manipulations of body and silhouette, but they were also famously grotesque—even violent. His autumn/winter 1995 show, “Highland Rape,” featured models stumbling down the runway in tattered garments and with exposed breasts, invoking the British attacks on the Scottish Highlands in the 18th and 19th centuries—McQueen family history. His spring 2001 collection featured patients in a mental ward; elsewhere, he invoked less dire, but still unusual subjects, like a Depression-era dance marathon inspired by the movie They Shoot Horses, Dont They?

The documentarys barrage of footage from these runway shows is smart—an insistent reminder of why were here, which isnt just for the tabloid details, but out of love for what McQueen left behind. Thats how most of the choices Bonhôte and Ettedgui make here come off: not overly inventive or enthralling in their own right, but considered and smart. Suffice to say, the documentary is too responsible to take after the man its about, which mightve disappointed the movies subject. “You never move forward if you play it safe,” we at one point hear McQueen say. To the movies credit, by the end, youll know exactly what he means.

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