The mid-2000s. Paris fashion week was John Galliano’s playground, his reign at Christian Dior unchallenged. His spectacular dresses and theatrical runway presentations had catapulted the iconic French house into the stratosphere of pop culture. Then, a weekend trip back to London. Checking into the Ritz, Galliano reportedly descended into such a drunken state that he spent four hours stark naked in a hotel lift, roaring like a lion at bewildered guests. Apologies and bills covered by his Paris office followed, and by the next week, it was back to business as usual for Galliano.
This anecdote, recounted in Kevin Macdonald’s compelling new documentary, High & Low: John Galliano, sets the stage for a narrative of dizzying heights and devastating lows. It’s a story that inevitably leads to the infamous 2011 incident in Paris’s La Perle bar. There, a visibly intoxicated Galliano was filmed unleashing a torrent of racist and antisemitic abuse, including references to gas chambers and professions of love for Hitler. The fallout was swift and brutal: dismissal from Dior, public condemnation, a French court conviction, and a retreat into rehab and obscurity. Before “cancel culture” became a household term, John Galliano was among its first high-profile casualties in the burgeoning social media age.
Now, a decade into sobriety, Galliano opens up in High & Low, granting Macdonald five days of interviews. “I’m going to tell you everything,” he declares at the film’s outset. The Galliano presented is transformed – lean, tanned, ponytailed, almost resembling a yoga guru at an exclusive Ibiza retreat. Yet, the theatrical flair persists. His slicked-back hair retains a touch of Jack Sparrow dandyism, and his voice remains a captivating instrument, shifting from precise, clockwork articulation to the Cockney inflections of a Peckham native.
High & Low is more than just a biography; it’s a gripping exploration of addiction, intertwined with a vibrant, whirlwind tour through one of fashion’s most flamboyant eras. The film traces Galliano’s journey from his arrival in suburban Streatham from Gibraltar, a young man grappling with parental disapproval of his homosexuality, to his explosive emergence as a prodigious talent at Central Saint Martins. Early show footage is nothing short of breathtaking. In one memorable scene, models with deliberately disheveled hair teeter down the runway in clogs, inexplicably clutching dead mackerel. Kate Moss fondly recalls Galliano’s runway coaching: shoulders back, pelvis forward. Galliano himself elucidates the genius behind his signature slip dresses – cut on the bias, the fabric twists and drapes, clinging to the body like “butter from hot toast.”
But beyond technical mastery, High & Low: John Galliano underscores that his true gift lay in imbuing his clothes with emotion. Even in grainy footage of low-budget shows, the models radiate an undeniable energy, their personalities amplified by the garments. He conceived fashion that, on paper, sounds utterly outlandish – a shipwrecked flamenco dancer hitting a nightclub, for instance – yet materialized as pure visual delight.
The documentary unflinchingly portrays alcohol as a sinister presence from Galliano’s early career. Moss downplays it with British understatement – “We’re both a bit shy and awkward, till we’ve had a drink” – but the film charts the descent from post-show celebratory drinks into solitary, days-long benders, locked away with bottles and show recordings. This pattern spiraled into severe alcoholism.
We see Galliano on camera the day after his father’s 2003 funeral, preparing for a show, his speech slurred, pupils dilated. In 2007, the death of his close friend and colleague Steven Robinson from a cocaine overdose in his Paris apartment further destabilized the already fragile designer. Valium, bromides, amphetamines, and sleeping pills became part of the daily cocktail. “I couldn’t go to bed without all my bottles lined up by the bed,” Galliano confesses, acknowledging, “I was committing suicide, slowly.”
The 1990s and 2000s witnessed fashion’s transformation from a niche industry into a global cultural phenomenon. Galliano, at the crest of this wave, was swept into depths he couldn’t navigate. High & Low: John Galliano illustrates the industry’s ballooning scale, the proliferation of celebrities and photographers, and Galliano’s increasing detachment from reality. The reviewer recalls a personal anecdote from a mid-2000s Dior show, searching backstage for Galliano, only to find him sequestered in a VIP room, guarded by security, with an assistant solely dedicated to lighting his cigarettes.
The documentary reveals that Sidney Toledano, then CEO of Dior, offered Galliano a six-month leave to seek help. Galliano claims no memory of such an offer. Regardless, in the throes of addiction – to alcohol, and perhaps to the intoxicating drama of his profession – Galliano was incapable of seeking help, and no one around him intervened.
When news of Galliano’s antisemitic outburst broke in 2011, the fashion world reacted with collective shock. Initial disbelief quickly turned to grim realization. By this point, Galliano’s public persona had become increasingly extravagant, his runway bows evolving into elaborate costumes – an astronaut, a prizefighter, Lt Pinkerton from Madame Butterfly, complete with theatrical attire. While bordering on caricature, there had been no prior indication of malice.
However, the La Perle video exposed undeniable, unprovoked hateful conduct. Exile from fashion followed, but it was surprisingly brief. In the same year as the scandal, Galliano designed Kate Moss’s wedding dress, a project he termed his “creative rehab.”
High & Low: John Galliano casts a critical gaze on the fashion industry itself. The seemingly facile dismissal of Galliano’s behavior exposes a hypocrisy within an industry that champions diversity. Naomi Campbell’s dismissive statement about refusing to watch the video exemplifies this uneasy acceptance.
A central, and deeply unsettling, question raised by High & Low is the origin of Galliano’s antisemitism. Neither Galliano nor his inner circle seem to offer a coherent explanation. His hateful ranting, seemingly triggered by petty insults, veered into virulent racism without apparent cause. A rabbi who worked with Galliano post-incident notes his profound ignorance of the Holocaust and Jewish history. His psychiatrist suggests he may have simply grasped at a readily available hateful stereotype. Toledano, who is Jewish, speculates about a potential, latent antisemitism rooted in Galliano’s Spanish Catholic upbringing.
The documentary deliberately avoids providing easy answers regarding Galliano’s motivations or the question of forgiveness. We see glimpses of a reflective Galliano in recovery, but he remains as perplexed as anyone by his own actions. He doesn’t appear inherently malicious, but rather exhibits a profound carelessness. While he claims to have apologized to Philippe Virgitti, one of his victims, Virgitti disputes this, and Galliano displays little empathy for Virgitti’s evident pain.
In a twist of fate, the release of High & Low: John Galliano coincides with Galliano’s triumphant return to the runway. In January, he presented a Maison Margiela couture show beneath a Paris bridge, met with a rapturous, extended standing ovation and critical acclaim. References to Toulouse-Lautrec and Brassaï, corsetry, and striking makeup contributed to a show hailed as a historic moment, poised to “extinguish the quiet luxury juggernaut,” according to Women’s Wear Daily. The New York Times noted the show’s immersive, world-building quality, a rarity in contemporary fashion. Galliano tells Macdonald his motivation for the film isn’t absolution, but to be “a little more understood.”
High & Low: John Galliano leaves viewers pondering whether understanding equates to forgiveness, or if either is truly attainable. Regardless, John Galliano appears to be firmly back in fashion, his complex and controversial legacy far from resolved.
High & Low: John Galliano is in cinemas in the UK, US and Ireland from 8 March.
