A few years ago, Sofia Coppola released the “Sofia Coppola Archive” – a coffee-table sized pink book filled with behind-the-scenes photos, notes, and script excerpts from all of her films from 1999 to 2023. It’s a look book, of sorts – a window into Coppola’s personal aesthetic. As a Sofia Coppola obsessive, it is displayed proudly in my den.
The archive is full of behind-the-scenes moments, but also stuffed to the brim with reference material for each film. There are collages of Y2K fashion that Coppola used as inspiration for Anna Faris’ character in “Lost In Translation.” Bill Owens’ photography book “Surburbia” played a large role in the aesthetic of “The Virgin Suicides.” And, for the costumes and color palette in “Marie Antoinette,” Coppola lifted from a Marc Jacobs spring collection based on the colors of Ladurée Macarons.
Watching “Marc by Sofia,” Coppola’s new documentary about her friend and fashion designer Marc Jacobs and the lead up to his spring 2024 show, I couldn’t help but continuously think about the Archive, and about how much Jacobs’ artistic process seems to mirror Coppola’s. The film does not offer an intimate look at the inner life of its subject, but rather serves as a record of one particular artist’s process – observed by an artist with a similar mindset and taste. It’s a great example of creative synergy between artist and subject.
Jacobs has had a relatively tumultuous childhood and career. His father, an agent at the William Morris Agency, died when he was young and he eventually went to live with his grandmother as a teenager (according to Jacobs, his mother suffered from mental health issues). He has had issues with drugs and alcohol throughout his career. However, beyond a few moments at the end that feel rather tacked on, the film barely touches on Jacobs’ familial or personal struggles, unless they have to do explicitly with his fashion career – he discusses memories of watching his mother put on makeup, or his grandmother’s rather strict shopping schedule.
These moments, along with other flashes of films, photos, and music, make up a collage of sorts that represent the Marc Jacobs experience. Coppola, much like she does in her own work, finds the images that make up a person or a feeling, and deploys them with specificity and deftness.
If you were to ding “Marc by Sofia,” you might say it’s hard to know how authentic Jacobs is while being interviewed and recorded by his very close friend. On the one hand, he seems eminently comfortable with Coppola. On the other, particularly in the moments leading up to the show itself, he seems hyper aware of the fact that there is a camera on him.
But, in some ways, watching him try to hold back his stress – and experiencing the few moments where it leaps to the forefront – are fascinating in the way it’s fascinating to watch a kettle try not to boil over. And that push and pull might be a pretty accurate representation of what it looks like when a perfectionist is trying to be diplomatic. In one moment where the makeup artist is trying to explain why the models’ eyelashes aren’t to Jacobs’ particular liking, he asks her – with the air of someone who hates what he’s looking at, but is trying to hold it in – if she thinks that looks better. Right before the show starts, he rounds a corner and runs into someone with a camera. They make eye contact, and he abruptly turns away, deciding he would not like to be perceived at that moment.
For the 2024 spring show, Jacobs was heavily influenced in part by the Supremes and the spangly costumes they would wear for performances. Hearing him talk about his references – and having Coppola show them to us before we then see Jacobs’ interpretation of them – is a pattern that makes up the bulk of the film. His process, according to him, is less about knowing exactly what he wants when he starts and reaching toward the goal the entire time, and more about finding the idea through the process of figuring things out – taking in a whole slew of inspiration until something strikes a cord, and then executing on that particular idea with precision.
Watching the film sometimes feels like Coppola has made a visual representation of what could be the Marc Jacobs Archive. As he talks about Liza Minelli, we watch her sing “Maybe This Time” in Bob Fosse’s “Cabaret.” He talks about the wonder of “The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant,” or how much he loved watching Barbra Streisand in “Hello Dolly.” One by one, these images populate the screen, interspersed with Jacobs’ own work so we can see how those inspirations and connections manifested artistically. And at the end, how that collage of ideas manifests into one very cool fashion show.