As if it were a classic studio fight, two projects were developed in parallel on television with many points in common. Cristóbal Balenciaga (Disney), which we saw in January, told how the Basque designer made a name for himself in Paris haute couture, alongside names like Coco Chanel and Christian Dior. The new look (Apple TV), which arrived this week, chronicles Dior's rise during the 1940s as he introduced a new women's silhouette, allowing him to dominate the fashion conversation in both Europe and the United States.
Before watching a minute of Cristóbal Balenciaga, one might think that The New Look would have won the fight not so much because of an inferiority complex (or maybe it was) but because of a budget issue: it took place in Hollywood where, compared to fiction, Spanish, producers' pockets are deeper and budgets are looser. Even the American betting websites, before having seen an episode, assumed that it would be good because of the team involved and that it would be one of the favorites for the Emmy Awards in September.
The creative tandem formed by Aitor Arregi, Jon Garaño, José Mari Goenaga and Lourdes Iglesias, accompanied by the actor Alberto San Juan, the composer Alberto Iglesias and the costume designer Bina Daigeler, conceived a discreet and overwhelming masterpiece that structured the story around of elegance. It was a demonstration of talent at the service of history, of clothing, of the genius that was intended to be portrayed.
On the other hand, The New Look is a nonsense that shows to what extent its creator Todd A. Kessler, who signed the addictive thriller Damages with two of the best performances in the history of television, does not understand the subject he intends to narrate. Perhaps there are a few reasons why the series is a disaster, but the main one is simple to explain: you cannot talk about Christian Dior, who was synonymous with beauty, from such involuntary ugliness.
At the beginning, the series shows an already established Christian Dior (Ben Mendelsohn) who, as a tribute, attends a university to show his most iconic dresses. The viewer soon discovers that he is a being who feels the pressure of the industry, who outsources decision-making to a psychic, and goes back to the occupation of Paris during World War II, where his sister Catherine (Maisie Williams) collaborated with the resistance.
Kessler, who writes both the scripts and the direction, does not know how to shoot clothes. He chooses angles that, instead of allowing us to understand the talent of the French designer, blur the silhouettes of the models when they walk down the catwalk. He builds a greenish, swampy image that brutalizes each shot. The way in which the editing, color and treatment of the image is reminiscent of Damages demonstrates the extent to which there is no reflection process behind the direction but a simple inertia incapable of adapting to a different story with its own needs.
And, while the biopic aspect about fashion fights with a spy thriller without depth, The new look is presented and developed as an embarrassing series that, after deciding to shoot in English, has the actors fake French accents. He hires Juliette Binoche to play Coco Chanel in an English that (so that we understand each other with a Spanish equivalent) the whole cat speaks like this. As if the assault on our retinas were not enough, Kessler chooses to attack our ears and, in the process, insult all of France.
Rarely has a more enormous distance been seen on screen between the expectations of quality expressed in a project and the regrettable resulting work.
