by The beguiling work of the English photographer Martin Parr is the subject of this short but quite gratifying study, which presents his extraordinary work, in particular the violent brilliance of his color images in the 70s and 80s, which celebrate the white working class on vacation.
Parr is an inspired combination of the artist of Seaside-Postcard, Donald McGill and Alan Bennett, with a little American street photographer Vivian Maier and a piece of Diane Arbus, although the grotesque in which Arbus specializes are not what Parr in mind has. Everyone here is to emphasize in pain that Parr is never cruel or mocked, and yes, it is very true. But as a real artist, of course, Parr has what Graham Greene called as a splinter of ice in his heart. He knows what a brilliant picture takes and it is unlikely that it will find it flattering. (David Walliams is interviewed here, perhaps because of his TV comedy Little Britain, but Little Britain is not exactly the same either.)
Parrs pictures are very funny and often pierced and sad. It is sometimes difficult to believe that they existed in real life. In a way, they didn’t do it; Parr created them with his eye for an image, for angles and frames. His hard work and eternal vigilance enable him to snap the second fraction, and his curatorial and editorial gift for sorting the material is crucial. The film shows that part of its skills only looks like an ordinary guy who goes around with its hiking frame (after the latest illness) in the crowd and took a smile and endless photos. This normality is what the artist Grayson Perry calls his “Camo” so revealing.
Interestingly, the film Parr also shows that it repeatedly asks his subjects whether he can take his photo (posed portraits that differ from the random moments), but they say they shouldn’t smile just to face their “normal” face present. Perhaps it is this unshakable “normal” face that will have this vital tragicomic quality.
• I am Martin Parr from February 21st in Great Britain and Irish cinemas.
