Bill Cunningham New York

I have lived in Manhattan for 32 years, 31 of them a very short walking distance from the corner of 57th and 5th, where Mr. Cunningham hunts his prey during the year. I have met him and seen him at work, but knew very little about him. This wonderful documentary not only shows Cunningham going after his shots, but is a wonderful window into the role of fashion and society in New York, with incredible images going back to the 1970s (and in some cases, even earlier). I admit that I cried for about 15 minutes in the beginning, so beautifully do the filmmakers create Cunningham's world -- and a New York I have had the privilege of experiencing. If you liked "The September Issue," or the recent Valentino or Yves St. Laurent documentaries, run don't walk to Bill Cunningham New York. And if you're a gay man of a certain age, bring Kleenex.

I love Bill Cunningham. He's the original street fashion photographer - the one who mastered today's trend - and a New York institution. For years, he's been documenting fashion trends on the streets of New York, which he traverses on his trusty Schwinn, reporting for The New York Times.

Cunningham does a regular feature for the Times called "On the Street" in which you hear him talk about the photos he's taken. He's always so unabashedly enthusiastic.

Who knew you could be so happy about trench coats, leggings, and leopard print? OK, so I've been happy about those things (maybe not the leopard print). But Cunningham's appreciation for statement and expression makes fashion seem like a place for everyday adventure instead of a consumer trap.

A new documentary called "Bill Cunningham: New York" opens in San Diego this weekend. In it, we learn that Cunningham's life is his work. He's in his 80s and has lived something of monastic existence in the name of fashion - or as he might put it - the pursuit of beauty.

He's never had a romantic relationship. He attends church every Sunday. For years he lived in a tiny apartment above Carnegie Hall packed with file cabinets where he stores copies of every photograph he's ever taken (he's still shooting film). The apartment had no kitchen and a public bathroom down the hall. He stored his bike in a hall closet, retrieving it daily to hit the streets with his camera and rolls of film.

Cunningham and the last remaining tenants (paying rent-control prices) at Carnegie Hall moved last year, forced out by the owners who wanted to expand and renovate the apartments into offices and classrooms.

The film also introduces us to Cunningham's former and eccentric neighbors at Carnegie Hall. The most fascinating is Editta Sherman, a 99-year-old photographer who was once a muse for Andy Warhol. Sherman has been called the "Duchess of Carnegie Hall" where she lived for over 60 years.

For all the artifice and pretense of the worlds he covers (fashion and New York society), Cunningham is humble and completely without airs. He's a chronic smiler and his sense of humor is refreshing in an industry known for pouty lips and raised eyebrows.

For more of this review, go to the Culture Lust blog on www.kpbs.org

I can't positively gush about this movie more than any other viewer can. This documentary warms the heart and allows people to see a side of life not many seem to slow down enough to view. I had never heard of him before watching this, but Bill truly is a great man. This movie makes me want to slow down and appreciate the everyday styles that people choose. I loved the various side-interviews with notable subjects of his photographs and colleagues, many of whom have similarly quirky yet important stories to tell. The music was so well grafted into the scenes that you may overlook it, but it guides the times and New York-living so well that it shouldn't be overlooked, either. If you're looking for a heart-warming documentary about a very important figure and artist in modern fashion photography, you'll enjoy learning about Bill as much as I did.

Bill Cunningham is an influential and beloved fashion photographer working at the New York Times but very few people actually know him. He has been photographing the fashion seen on the streets for around 30 years. He rides his bicycle. He eats cheap food. He doesn't spend money on clothes. His small Spartan apartment is filled with file cabinets holding all his negatives. He doesn't care about money. He and his friend Editta Sherman are getting evicted. At his core, he is obsessed with fashion and photographing the changing style in New York. It's a fascinating portrait. It also doesn't shy away from the obvious personal questions. It comes later in the movie just as the lack of personal life starts to be prominent. It reveals the real person behind the camera.

Greetings again from the darkness. Well my fashion sense is limited to jeans, a t-shirt and tennis shoes. I would not be one's first choice to discuss the industry of fashion photography. However, that's not what this documentary is really about. Instead of focusing on the photographs of Bill Cunningham, director Richard Press shoots the man at work and in life ... the two being indistinguishable for Mr. Cunningham.

If you aren't familiar with his name, you are not alone. Bill Cunningham has a long running NY TIMES page where his photographs are displayed. He also has a feature called "On The Street", where he records commentary for his photographs - this can be heard on the website. Still, none of that tells you much about this man.

The film opens abruptly with video of Cunningham at work. He is alternatingly riding his bicycle and sprint-walking as he weaves through the sea of taxis and humanity in downtown Manhattan. His trusty camera is always around his neck as he continues his quest for fashion on the street ... fashion sense in the working people of the city. His eye is sharp and quick. We never know what he will hone in on. Maybe a never-before-seen winter coat, a flamboyant hat, or even a pair of heels that a woman is sporting. The man is over 80 years old and his eye and mind still quickly process what he deems worthy of notice.

Once again, none of those words do justice to this man or his story. He lives an incredibly humble life in a studio apartment within the confines of Carnegie Hall. Yes, as the film takes place, he is among the last of the remaining residents of the great hall. We learn management has determined that the few residents will be moved out of the building and relocated to other apartments nearby. We meet one of the other residents ... the fascinating "Duchesss of Carnegie", Editta Sherman. She has lived there for 60 years and it has been her home and photography studio. She made her living shooting celebrities and we catch a glimpse of her amazing work ... including a short video of her dancing in the 60's - filmed by Andy Warhol! Ms. Sherman's space is palatial compared to Cunningham's. His small studio apartment is crammed with metal file cabinets, each loaded with decades worth of photographs and negatives ... a real history of New York fashion. His bed is a twin mattress held up by books and crates - no kitchen, and a community bathroom. "Humble existence" is an understatement.

We learn from Mr. Cunningham that his work is divided into three parts: his street work, fashion shows, and charity events. He makes it clear that celebrities bore him and he is much more interested in how the everyday person uses fashion in their real life. Still, early on, we get comments from Vogue editor, Anna Wintour about how Cunningham's eye impacts the fashion world. She gives him much credit. We also get quickies from Tom Wolfe, Annie Flanders and even Brooke Astor to see how easily Cunningham fits in with the upper crust, despite his connection to the street. There is even a segment in Paris where he is honored by the French Order of Art and Letters ... and he "works" his own event! But it's the street where he is most at home. He says he is on his 29th bicycle ... the first 28 were stolen. He states this with the same enthusiasm that he shoots his subjects. The man is a constant smile and quick with banter, yet we learn just how alone he really is. When asked about his friends, family, lovers ... he momentarily breaks down only to regroup and express his love for what he does - it's not work, it's pleasure.

By the end, it's clear that while so many people respect the man and his work, no one really knows him. He lets his pictures stand as the testament to decades of documenting the colors and patterns and style of New Yorkers.