Movie review: High & Low – John Galliano is a breathless ride

“I don’t know,” takes on a terribly credible dimension when he discusses his alcoholic binges and blackouts. On one occasion he spent four hours stark naked in an elevator at the Ritz, London, telling everyone he was a lion. Nothing funny about that …

Nowadays, he’s off the booze and drugs, has apologised for his appalling behaviour, and is designing for Maison Margiela. It’s a breathless ride for the viewer, broken by regular, calming visits to the present day.

Collection madness

Macdonald explored similar territory in his 2018 documentary on Whitney Houston – a prodigious talent from a poor background, propelled to the top of the world then destroyed by the demands of fame. Houston didn’t get out alive, but Galliano is making the most of his second chance.

With other fashion designers it’s not uncommon to see them take a bow wearing only a black T-shirt and jeans, or in Karl Lagerfeld’s case, his weird uniform with its absurdly high collar, shades and gloves. Not so with Galliano, who changed his image from day to day, dressing as outrageously as any of his models. His pathological exhibitionism had to find a personal outlet. As well as Gance’s Napoleon, Macdonald treats us to regular excerpts from the high fantasy of Powell and Pressburger’s The Red Shoes (1948) – another story that didn’t end well.

The pressure under which Galliano worked was ridiculous. He designed six collections a year for Dior alone, and two more for his own label. He designed lines of accessories and shoes. He says that at one point he was responsible for 32 collections in a year. To be consistently creative at such a high level, year after year, would be enough to drive anyone mad. We’ve already seen the effects of this pressure on celebrated designers. Yves Saint-Laurent became a demented wreck, Alexander McQueen killed himself. Most simply burn out.

For Galliano, whose psyche resembles a ball of wool that’s been with the kittens for a few days, his fall from grace seems to have arrived in stages. A crucial catalyst was the loss of his studio manager, Steven Robinson, in April 2007. Although he looked slovenly and unhealthy, Robinson, who had been with Galliano since his early days, was an indispensable part of the operation. Over the years, he had developed an instinctive understanding of what his capricious boss was trying to achieve. His death escalated the already enormous pressures under which Galliano worked.

There were many signs, even before his final crash, that the designer was not living on the same planet as everybody else. His Hobo collection of 2000 stirred protests from those who believed he was mocking the homeless and underprivileged – charges that left him feeling bewildered. He claimed the collection had been “inspired” by the street people he saw on his morning jog and couldn’t see why anyone should be offended.

The virulent antisemitic outbursts that saw him lose his job at Dior and be prosecuted in the French courts, might be read as a perverse escape act engineered by his subconscious. Drinking himself into an amnesiac stupor while pickled with prescription drugs, he seems to have gone searching for the most shocking, offensive topic he could find. It was a virtuoso act of self-destruction that forced his Jewish boss, Sidney Toledano, to cut him loose, even if he didn’t really believe Galliano was a Hitler-worshipping antisemite.

Two years later, claiming to be clean and remorseful, Galliano’s attempt at a comeback was derailed when he appeared in public in an outfit that came across as a parody of a Hasidic Jew. Once again, he found it hard to understand what he had done wrong. It was as if his voracious visual sense had become detached from any social, ethical or moral considerations.

There are many who will never believe Galliano’s stories or forgive his actions, even if the industry seems to have taken him back into the fold. This film is part of the redemption process, as he speaks candidly about himself, and gives every impression of being older and wiser.

Should we feel sorry for him? We know the fashion business is a monster that devours its most talented children, but Galliano immersed himself in its deadly fantasy and doesn’t inspire much sympathy. He acts like a man who has just awakened from a bad dream and is eager to go back for another session.