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Movie Review

Inside the fashionably haunted House of Dior

New designer Raf Simons.Dogwoof Films/Courtesy of Dogwoof Films

The “I” referred to in Frédéric Tcheng's “Dior and I” does not refer to the documentary’s ostensible subject, new Dior designer Raf Simons, but to Christian Dior himself. In his 1956 memoir “Christian Dior & I,” quoted in voice-over throughout the film, the fashion icon ponders his divided self. “There are two Christian Diors,” he writes. “Christian Dior, the man in the public eye, and Christian Dior, private individual.”

But Simons, a no-nonsense Belgian who has already established himself with his own eponymous men’s clothing line, is not so deep. He admits to being unable to finish reading “Christian Dior & I” because it’s “weird.” He is undisturbed by doubts about who he is, and ignores the ghost (some think literal) that haunts the House of Dior (Dior suffered a fatal heart attack in 1957). Focused on the task at hand — he must complete his debut collection in eight weeks — he takes charge and mobilizes the Dior operation into realizing his ideas and vision.

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So despite Tcheng's effort to add a metaphysical layer to the film, it pretty much repeats the narrative seen in many other documentaries about the fashion world, from Wim Wenders's “Notebook on Cities and Clothes” (1989), to “Unzipped” (1995), to “Valentino: The Last Emperor” (2008). A high-profile designer and his team race against time to pull off a dazzling catwalk parade before an audience of journalistic potentates and glitzy celebrities. And like these other films, the result is fascinating, suspenseful, illuminating, and ultimately moving.

Tcheng finds his groove when he settles into that template, employing a Fred Wiseman-like observational style as Simons proves a tough taskmaster to the working stiffs in the Dior atelier (the workshop where the designs are cut and dyed and sewn together into actual garments). Fortunately, his genial partner Pieter Mulier plays the good boss role, endearing himself to the mostly middle-aged female staff, mollifying them with small gestures like flowers — signing Simons’s name to the card.

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Simons also can be a prima donna. He has big ideas, such as turning the tie-dyed-like paintings of New York artist Sterling Ruby into prints on silk, one of many demands that test his staff’s resources and patience. And when he rents out a palatial Paris townhouse for the show, layering every wall with flowers, his dream of re-creating a mini-Versailles comes true.

The show is a terrific success, the clothes are magical, the elite crowd, including Marion Cotillard, Jennifer Lawrence, and Sharon Stone, is luminous. It’s hard to resist tearing up as Simons weeps with relief and triumph.

The workers from the atelier, meanwhile, huddle in the background in their nondescript clothes and look on at their work, dresses that will go for $350,000 or more to wealthy buyers. If Simons writes his own memoir, perhaps it will be titled “Us & Them.”

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Peter Keough can be reached at petervkeough@gmail.com.