Until I saw the film "Bill Cunningham New York", I had never heard of Bill Cunningham. When I learned he was a "fashion photographer," Gerty had to drag me to the theater to see the film at all.
A very interesting man living a unique and modest life and whose work, to which he is utterly dedicated, is extraordinarily prominent.
I wouldn't say the film was excellent but learning about Bill Cunningham made it one of the best films I have seen in the last couple years.
From the NYTimes review:
[H]is life is one of monastic solitude and simplicity.
He owns what look to be roughly five articles of clothing. (His signature piece is the same royal blue workman’s jacket worn by Parisian street sweepers, which sells for about $20 and comes in a plastic bag.) He favors $3 lunches. Until he moved, when Carnegie Hall reclaimed the artists’ residences there for other uses, he lived in a tiny studio with no kitchen and with a bathroom down the hall. He gets around on an old bicycle and sleeps on a cot surrounded by filing cabinets containing every negative of every shot he has ever taken. And yet somehow the patrician image is further burnished by the radical lifestyle. He’s an aesthete and an ascetic, a member of the establishment and a bohemian, and among the last of his kind.