Martin Parr’s pictures are as instantly recognisable as he is unassuming. Part of the pleasure of Lee Shulman’s documentary I Am Martin Parr is that it not only offers an overview of Parr’s career and oeuvre, but also shows the photographer at work in his natural habitats (fetes, street parties, seafront promenades): a social chameleon, observing without being observed.
Evidently a subscriber to Henri Cartier-Bresson’s concept of the “decisive moment”, he explains that “translating the excitement of what’s going on into the image – that’s the skill.” But clearly, for Parr, this isn’t simply a case of waiting patiently in the undergrowth, sitting tight Attenborough-style, until such a moment arrives; it’s a matter of getting out and about, mingling, surveying the scene and taking a lot of photos in full knowledge that the vast majority will miss the mark.
What is beyond doubt is that over the last half-century Parr has indeed taken a lot of photos. Some series are more celebrated than others, which is why the initial segment of the documentary dedicated to his work in black and white is particularly revelatory. Much of it is showcased in a recent photobook, Early Works; the title hints, offputtingly, at naïve juvenilia, but the images are anything but – the creations of an already assured photographer with an intuitive and sensitive appreciation of the artform.
Nevertheless, it is for his colour work that Parr is best known. Until the early 1970s, colour was almost exclusively the province of commercial photography, and even a decade later, his abandonment of black and white was seen as something of a bold, controversial, Dylan-goes-electric moment, at least for a British photographer. That first colour project, The Last Resort, is in part remarkable because it incorporates practically all of the themes that he would go on to explore in greater depth: “the leisure pursuits of the Western world” (his words), Britishness, social class, the politics of commercialism and consumption – whether depicted in terms of tourism or through oversaturated close-ups of food that are more nauseating than appetising.
The Last Resort is also notable because of the reaction that it provoked. Its exhibition at the Serpentine Gallery in London in 1986 saw Parr savaged as a condescending and cynical class tourist. As some point out in the film, however, it was arguably his media critics who were condescending – taking offence on behalf of the working-class holidaymakers of New Brighton, while up in Liverpool those same holidaymakers themselves perceived the pictures as merely a portrayal of reality.
Nevertheless, this accusation has dogged Parr throughout his career, and much of the attention has centred on the humour in his photos. “Life is strange and life is funny,” he observes, and so, by implication, it’s only right that this should be reflected in the work of a social documentarian. Some have suggested, though, that his smile is more of a smirk, and that we’re invited to laugh at – rather than with – his subjects. Grayson Perry – the most engaging and astute of the film’s talking heads, and clearly a kindred spirit – disagrees, lauding him as an artist with an eye for the absurd, dedicated to “celebrating eccentricity in all its forms” and dismissive of the “performative seriousness” that Perry feels blights much documentary photography.
This is typical of the approach that director Shulman takes. Despite being a self-declared Parrophile, he nevertheless avoids hagiography, ensuring that the documentary acknowledges the charges for the prosecution even if ultimately presenting a compelling case for the defence. Some of Parr’s most vociferous detractors have been among his peers, as illustrated by the polarised debate over his admission to the prestigious Magnum photo agency. Perry argues – not without reason – that it’s Parr himself who has been the victim of snobbery, for daring to kick against the over-intellectualisation and convention of the photographic establishment. Yet, of course, Parr has now undeniably become an establishment figure, widely revered and much imitated.
The subject of this insightful, pithy film emerges as obsessive, driven and hardworking; as his wife Susan recalls, he even insisted on taking portraits of his medical team while still recovering in intensive care following cancer treatment. When Parr does leave us, his legacy will consist of not only an enormously impressive and influential array of images and projects but also the Martin Parr Foundation, which does the vital job of championing the work of other British documentary photographers. Perhaps his greatest achievement, as Grayson Perry notes, is that he has “made a way of seeing”: we now look at the world and see Martin Parr photos, rather than the other way around.
Dir: Lee Shulman (12A, 68 mins)
words BEN WOOLHEAD
