Yves Saint Laurent was not only a legendary fashion designer, but also an artistic icon who changed the way we view an industry normally perceived as not being aligned with some of the more popular creative fields – he may not have made the impact some more traditional artists may have, but his contributions to the fashion industry, and by extent worldwide culture, cannot ever be understated. However, behind his incredible talents resided a life filled with passion, drama and idiosyncrasy, enough to fill the lives of a dozen ordinary individuals. Saint Laurent is the subject of the titular film by Bertrand Bonello, who turns his focus away from only the more accessible parts of the icon’s life and looks instead at the intersections between art and reality in this searing drama that is as compelling as it is deeply original. Perhaps not the easiest film, Saint Laurent challenges the audience through intelligent filmmaking and the subversion of many conventions that normally go into the making of films like this. It’s a deeply fascinating character study that confronts deep existential issues through both stark social commentary and bold stylistic choices, burrowing into the psyche of one of the most enigmatic creative figures of the twentieth century, and someone whose life is just as interesting as work, as explored through this incredibly memorable, and something intrepid, tale of greed, corruption and couture, where we are privy to his private affairs and the events that ultimately converged into forming one of the most influential cultural figures of his era, and someone whose work continues to endure as the hallmark of elegance and style.

When it comes to figures like Yves Saint Laurent, we tend to see them solely as a name on a brand, especially in a world driven by material desire. We very rarely, if ever, look beyond the words on the label to consider the person behind it, with everything they are known for culturally being the prestige associated only a few words. This serves as the impetus for Saint Laurent, with Bonello peering behind the veneer of one of fashion’s most recognizable names, and focusing not only in his artistic impact but also his life as a whole. Set mainly between 1968 and 1976, the film covers around a decade of the life of the titular designer, as he rises in prominence, and subsequently starts to feel the side-effects of wealth and fame, and all the unfortunate burdens that come along with being in the public eye. Saint Laurent goes through the trials of tribulations of any person encountering fame – he tries to remain true to himself while still attempting to resist the temptation to descend into the unhinged debauchery offered to those who have reached his level of popularity, to absolutely no avail – but it’s not solely about the descent into depravity, but also the struggle to make it out of the moral turpitude he finds himself being seemingly confined to as a result of allowing himself to be enveloped by the allure of excess. The film is a meditation on Saint Laurent’s peak as a designer, contrasted with his later years as a reclusive, but no less passionate, fashion icon ruminating on his past, and how everything converged into a life that may have been tumultuous, but was no less an impressive one defined by achievements, but tested by seemingly insurmountable obstacles, particularly those of the more psychological kind.

The methods through which Bonello executes this film were certainly quite unorthodox, and effectively so.  Saint Laurent isn’t so much a biographical film as it is a selection of fragments extracted from an iconic life, thrown together in a gorgeously unconventional way. As we’ve come to expect from him, the director makes some bold choices in representing the life and career of the titular fashion stalwart, and makes sure that we know, right from the outset, that Saint Laurent is not going to be like anything we’ve ever seen before. Taking his cue from the fascinating personal life of his subject, Bonello expresses the life of his subject by engaging with it through the use of a very distinct aesthetic approach – there are some indications from that outset that we are about to be thrust into a dream-like state, where Bonello and his co-conspirators in the making of this film will lead us down a path of complete narrative treachery, where the story itself remains relatively straightforward but is presented with such a daring structure, it can only be considered a series of sensory provocations. Whether it be in the music, where Bonello once again uses classic soul music as a way of emphasizing the melancholy contained in the story, the striking colours or the abstract editing choices (such as an early scene intended to show the passage of time being done by juxtaposing a small fashion show with newsreel footage from the period), the tone of the film is set relatively early, and indicates that what we are witnessing is not an ordinary story of the rise and decline of its subject, but rather a deeply ambitious analysis of his life and his many vices that contributed to the creation of the folkloric Yves Saint Laurent, and his invaluable contributions to contemporary culture.

In playing the titular role, Gaspard Ulliel is truly magnificent – he finds his way into the mind of the character, embodying both his public persona and his private life, playing each with such sincerity and authenticity. Ulliel is a gifted actor, and his work here is certainly very strong, especially in how he clearly understands the confines of the character, and what is required from him. Saint Laurent, despite its bold execution, is not a bombastic film, and its successes reside in the smallest intricacies, most of which come from the actor himself, who projects such a vulnerability, especially when it comes to the more intimate moments of Saint Laurent’s life. This is a silently intense performance, with Ulliel’s finest moments normally coming when he is tasked with simply emoting, conveying more through his eyes or expressions than anyone could in words. Saint Laurent is a very internal film, and therefore needed an actor who would not play the role as a stereotype, nor as a mere imitation, but rather as the complex bundle of insecurities and anxieties that Bonello presents him as, which facilitates some truly fascinating work on behalf of Ulliel. The decision to cast Helmut Berger in the smaller but pivotal role of an older Saint Laurent feels too perfect to only be a coincidence – Berger is the embodiment of the same influential reputation as the subject of the film, and defined European cinema with a very similar kind of chaotic energy, being a cross-national sensation that had an enormous volatility, but also a self-awareness that made him such a magnetic presence. He is perfectly suited to play an older, more contemplative Saint Laurent, clearly possessing the same intense style, only having matured to the point where it becomes a reflective experience to see Berger work. To have one of the most iconic European actors of the period in which this takes place playing the older version of one of the same era’s most fascinating figures is a deliberate, but no less, brilliant decision on the part of the director, who infused a wealth of hidden meaning into this exceptionally complex work of postmodern art.

Saint Laurent breaks down every metanarrative that tends to come with biographical film and avoids resorting to anything that resembles convention, which is why this is such a memorable work. Considering the titular figure was known for being quite an outrageous, larger-than-life individual who openly defied normative standards, it only makes sense that the film honouring his legacy through exploring some of the intricate details of his life would adhere to this same standard as well. Bonello, as we’ve noted previously, is not a director who tends to follow the rules so much as he relishes in breaking them, without actually getting to the point where he’s actively avoiding them, but rather engaging with them with a blend of respect for the source and the originality to challenge the preconceived notions of what a biographical film should be. He imbues a great amount of detail into this film, paying attention to every aspect of this story, making sure to convey the underlying meaning in a way that gets the message across without it ever having to be made very evident. Whether it be through the fragmented structure – the film takes place over eight years, and the passage of time is portrayed brilliantly, with Bonello ensuring that we understood precisely where we were situated, both in terms of the broader socio-historical context, and in the career of Saint Laurent, whose growth as an artist is more important to this film than the sordid details – or the elegant way in which the director demonstrates the excess that the protagonist found himself engaging in during his peak, Saint Laurent takes a very daring approach to the biographical film, dismantling every cliche and subverting them to create an entirely new form of storytelling, where a coherent narrative is now unnecessary, and when replaced with a thoughtful, complex set of ideas, can comment on the rise and fall of an icon without needing to resort to the same trite conventions that normally plague these films.

There’s a sense of liberation underlying this film that truly makes this such a compelling experience. It certainly is easy to misunderstand Saint Laurent – its length is daunting, and it can sometimes feel aimless, almost as if the director pieced together the most absurd segments from a more coherent film, and passed it off as an experimental work. However, there is method to the madness in this film, and Bonello’s structuring of the film does serve a purpose, insofar as it alienates the viewer, forcing them to look at the life of Yves Saint Laurent and reconsider how we perceive cultural figures – the film may comment significantly on his status as an icon (such as in the coda for the film, centred entirely around a rumour that Saint Laurent had died), but it never proposes him as anything other than tragically and unimpeachably human, in his thoughts, actions and emotions, and this is where the film thrives the most, presenting us with a story of an iconic individual, told through a very unconventional lens, which urges us to not only peer into his life but into something much deeper. The film tackles the issue of celebrity and fame with such grace, showing the depravity that comes along with it, but never feeling exploitative (and often being genuinely heartbreaking, especially in the recurring theme of Saint Laurent’s beloved dog, Moujik, who is the emotional core of the film). The intelligence and originality with which the director constructs the film is perhaps what defines it the most – fearless filmmaking, especially when done with such precision and attention to the smallest implications often results in highly memorable works that tend to be thoroughly original and incredibly captivating, even if they do veer towards being more challenging. Far from the paint-by-numbers biopic most would expect, Saint Laurent is a tremendously interesting character study that interprets the life of an enigmatic artistic figure who challenged the very fabric of our culture (both literally and metaphorically) – so how appropriate that a film about his life and process would be just as provocative and intriguing? There’s a hypnotic quality to this film, both from the structure and the aesthetic qualities underlying it, that make it such an enchanting, and fully unforgettable, work of contemporary cinematic artistry.