It is paradoxical that, as different as human experiences are, biopics so often move along predictable terrain due to the way the stories are told, the conflicts that are emphasized, and the way the most dramatic elements are praised. However, Cristóbal Balenciaga, which can be seen at Disney, distances itself from this formula despite being so classic in appearance.
The secret is not to be so interested in the biographical elements of the man behind the dresses, born in Getaria in 1895 and died in Xàbia in 1972, but to use his instinct and creative beliefs as a template on which to spin the story. The people involved understand the essence of his sense of elegance and build behind this instinct and conviction a television production without a wrinkle.
Aitor Arregi, Jon Garaño and José Mari Goenaga, who created two titles as relevant to Basque cinema as Loreak and Handia, and Lourdes Iglesias focus on the thirty years that the designer (Alberto San Juan) was based in Paris, where he built the Maison Balenciaga, a leading haute couture atelier that competed directly with Coco Chanel (Anouk Grinberg) and Christian Dior (Patrice Thibaud).
This involves remembering the republican exile, especially from the Bizkarrondo couple (Josean Bengoetxea and Cecilia Solaguren), the investors; the arrival of the Germans during World War II and how haute couture had to coexist with the Nazis; or what it meant to dress Fabiola from Belgium at the royal wedding.
The excuse is the interview that, once retired, he gives to the British journalist Prudence Glynn (Gemma Whelan) for The Times. But, without neglecting the important people in his personal life such as Wladzio D’Attainville (Thomas Coumans) or Ramón Esparza (Adam Quintero), Cristóbal Balenciaga is structured and finds interest in Balenciaga’s view of style, his obsession with privacy, his artistic mentality, the healthy rivalry with Chanel and Dior, or the absolute rejection he felt for ready-to-wear fashion.
The French designer, for example, is used to explain the appeal of Balenciaga as a creator, his power to understand fabrics, every fold and every stitch thanks. From here, the direction of the Basque trio, the music of Alberto Iglesias and the costume director Bina Daigeler intertwine the plots with the Balenciaga mentality, always omnipresent, in what must be understood as an ode to elegance, both by theme , as well as the protagonist’s dresses as the way to represent each aspect of the man.
Alberto San Juan, furthermore, understands the work in a cast with a successful international vocation (and a high percentage of footage in French): his body expression measured to the millimeter and the placement of his jaw transform him, with a crying scene that shows the understanding you have of the character.
Each parade, aided by church piano, is ethereal. The directors also look for beauty outside the workshop, even with Balenciaga looking through a glass. And, without fanfare or fuss, they offer Stendhal syndrome in the form of a six-episode miniseries.
