paralyze valli: ZekeFilm | Film Review: SCATTER MY ASHES AT BERGDORF'S

As a feature length promotion for a massive big-money entity that in no way needs a feature length promotion, Scatter my Ashes at Bergdorf?s takes a cushy seat alongside of the new Vince Vaughn/Owen Wilson Google-centric comedy, The Internship. Besides the obvious differences in genre and subject matter, both are about cozying up with the establishment in order to get. Were it not for Sophia Coppola?s The Bling Ring (a well-timed cinematic breath of fresh air if there ever was one) coming along and essentially yelling at this film, I?d be left in an end-of-week movie going funk, questioning how so much of cinema has and is becoming blatant advertising. If you don?t mind this sort of thing, then you?re either already a fan, or you?re inert.

The sheer amount of gushing and reverence put forth during the many interviews with big name designers (including Vera Wang, Isaac Mizrahi, and many more) buyers, loopy personal shoppers, and celebrities are softly exhausting in this rambling ode to opulence. One gets the impression filmmaker Matthew Miele didn?t necessarily set out to create a testament to the joys of the Mecca of high dollar spending, as he definitely nabbed a lot of choice interviews, and is heard asking some questions that are more interesting than the dodgy answers he gets. (?How much does that cost?? is a particular shocker to some Bergdorf?s higher-ups.) During one interview, an insider comes out of the gate defensively, then amusingly finds he must switch gears. Paraphrasing: ?People say that only rich people can afford to shop here?! And, I guess that?s true. But all the people living in those Park Avenue penthouses need to be accommodated, too??

Mizrahi Loves Bergdorfs!

Perhaps obviously, this isn?t my scene. For long stretches, I felt simply trapped in this screening, stuck listening to members of the bourgeois tout their bourgeois enabler. But here?s the real kicker ? despite the glaring uncomfort of it all, I can?t honestly say I?m sorry to have attended. For better or for worse, amid all of its rambling mix-and-match content, Scatter my Ashes still manages to provide some sort of grounded look into this world of high end handbags, fabulous pumps and unaffordable hats.

And like it or not, it does us well to remember that film (which is perpetually at the apex of popular culture) and fashion are irrevocably linked, and almost always have been. This type of fashion has affected not just the more obvious entries, such as Antonioni?s Blow-Up (then spoofed so hilariously in Austin Powers) and Breakfast at Tiffany?s, but even more ?street level? films such as Raging Bull, and well, well beyond. Understanding this symbiotic relationship between these two major cultural elements can?t be a bad thing. The documentary reminds us that the enigma of Bergdorf Goodman?s runs through virtually all of cinema, Barbara Streisand being the ever the singing figurehead of it all. (On a related note, there?s even a jarring story of John Lennon and Yoko Ono purchasing an unprecedented number of fur coats in a single transaction.)

Okay, maybe this store is weirder than I realize?

And so, while Bergdorf?s is a sometimes cracked window looking in on how the better half lives, it?s also a window to it?s own world famous windows. In one of the film?s more fascinating through-lines, Miele charts the process of planning, creating, and eventually unveiling the store?s meticulously created displays for the holiday shopping season. Revealed behind the five panes of glass are long toiled-over dazzling handcrafted undersea visions: An odd array of beaded glass shards, antique musical instruments, taxidermy, and mannequins that might be called children?s book steampunk. Or not. For many, this is as close as they?re ever likely to get to the Bergdorf experience. And that?s okay ? these displays are elaborate, eccentric, impersonal, and completely for the masses. So much detail and care (all shown) goes into them. In a sense, it?s like a brick & mortar equivalent of a Transfromers movie: High-end vacuousness on display for the hoi polloi. Make no mistake, they are enjoyed, if only fleetingly.

The title Scatter my Ashes at Bergdorf?s derives from either a cartoon in the New Yorker, or the crazed pronouncement of a delirious foreign shopper, or both. In any case, it?s one of the single worst movie titles of all time, rendered all the more curious considering the escapist nature of shopping. Reminding viewers of their own pending mortality upfront seems more than a little odd for a documentary about the very pinnacle of shopping. But yes, we all must perish someday, and I must admit that ones incinerated remnants could do a lot worse than to be cast about permanently damaging all manner of couture fashion items and accessories.

There?s a ton of rose-colored adoration going on here ? in fact, that?s all that?s going here. So perhaps it?s not altogether fair to expect such a puff piece to comment of such harsh issues that squarely align with the subject matter. I?m talking about the assumption of a consumer culture and the horridly outsourced realities of the U.S. garment industry. If Bergdorf Goodman?s is a cornerstone of the increasingly nebulous notion of The American Dream, what does that mean for us? Such questions are blissfully ignored, in favor of yet more gushing. One strongly suspects that Bergdorf Goodman has bought and paid for all of this ? but hey, they can afford it.