Ultrasuede: In Search of Halston Reviews
This is what happens when retail clerks finally save up and get a camera.
Liza advises this fame-whore to do some research. Fat chance. He asks elementary questions as if he just landed from another planet.
He interviews his mom for insight as to why he may be drawn to this subject. She doesn't have a clue, noting he liked "Smokey & the Bandit" growing up, something we already have guessed due to the endless ground shots of him getting in and out of his souped-up Trans Am.
An interview subject from Vogue is astonished by his lack of research and knowledge. Their interview is interrupted when Sudler-Smith's cell phone goes off. When the interviewee chastises him, Sudler-Smith is confused because "they are both from the South". Sudler-Smith's ringtone is "Dixie" and the man he is interviewing is African-American. That tells you all you need to know about the clueless Sudler-Smith.
He shoots interviews, such as with Ms. Minnelli, over her shoulder so it is he that is on camera. He is always on camera. This film is all about him, and little on Halston outside of some vintage film footage.
He asks banal, uninformed questions, and then interrupts the responses five words in. At one point, a subject tells him, STOP INTERRUPTING!
Sudler-Smith has brown hair in this scene, blonde hair in that one, then golden hair with a Fu Manchu in the next. This film has less to do with Halston and more to do with immortalizing the fabulous Sudler-Smith on celluloid for all time. What a waste of celluloid.
Somebody wishes they were Burt Reynolds in the 70s, or at least a vapid star-f*cker who could do blow and hang out at Studio 54. That fact is the biggest takeaway from this film, which is yet another insult piled on the legacy of Halston.
I doubt you can find a "documentary" on Rotten Tomatoes with a lower rating than this one, for good reason. An abomination.