Always At The Carlyle Documentary Review

ALWAYS AT THE CARLYLE

Film Review by FIORE

In writing a documentary about one of New York’s oldest hotels, one would seem hard pressed to infuse politics and the progressive agenda.  But that seemingly daunting task is accomplished with panache by Writer and Director Matthew Miele in his latest ALWAYS AT THE CARLYLE.   It is so very subtle, and therefore more insidious, that Milele’s views on President Donald Trump, returned relations with Cuba, a distinct loathing for middle America and a homage to President Jimmy Carter are extolled in drive-by fashion.

 

Apparently, over twenty years ago, Trump visited the Carlyle.  When asked his opinion, he declared for the media the establishment was a wonderful institution.  In an aside, heard by one of the staff, he whispered “This place is a joke.”  It’s that comment that is relayed to Bill Murray as he is leaving the hotel, and in typical smug fashion, Murray keeps repeating the line as he goes around the revolving door.  After establishing the Carlyle as a premiere residence, the Trump comment calls his judgement into question; much like the media covering news today.

The ultimate joke may be Trump’s, however, as ALWAYS AT THE CARLYLE paints a picture of an establishment well past its prime, whose reputation relied more on its hired personnel than its offerings.  But the staff is aging, and retiring.  A new breed is entering the hotel, and their views do not seem as conducive to the place’s aura.

The Carlyle was established in Manhattan’s Upper East Side nearly 90 years ago as an alternative to New York’s busier residences.  The Carlyle was a place where the high and mighty could stay, away from the hustle and bustle of downtown.  It was meant to feel like a home away from home.

Over the years, many famous folks stayed at the hotel, including Presidents John Kennedy and Dwight Eisenhower, Princess Diana, Frank Sinatra and Marilyn Monroe.  Those interviewed for this documentary include: George Clooney; Anjelica Huston;, Tommy Lee Jones; Vera Wang; Anthony Bourdain; Roger Federer; Wes Anderson; Sofia Coppola; Jon Hamm; Lenny Kravitz; Naomi Campbell; Pittsburgh’s own Jeff Goldblum and Elaine Stritch.

While the Carlyle has a plethora of history, the film plays like a giant advertisement; one last gasp before chapter eleven.  Justin Bare does a marvelous job as director of photography.  The film is clean, crisp and clear.  J. Mac Edgerton keeps the film under 90 minutes, though that’s probably twenty minutes too long for a documentary.  Edgerton cleverly edits soundbites so that praise for former President Jimmy Carter and the reopening of relations with Cuba are brought to the forefront.  There is also a segment that displays what the Hilldabeast dubbed “the deplorables”, as some of the guests express chagrin over having to live among “people from Kansas”.  It’s quite a revealing  splicing, accenting class prejudice. 

There is a segment on Jack Nicholson, though he does not appear in the film.  The audio mix during his photo montage and accompanying voice-overs is terrible.  Re-Recording Mixer Gerard Collins is asleep at the consol as the music overpowers the narrative.

It is apparent the draw of the Carlyle is its staff.  Folks work meticulously for perfection in service.  With rooms going for $1,000 to $20,000 per night, there must be something to draw in the rich and famous.  Most of the amenities are past prime.  The elevator system is over 100 years old.  The lounge and café are decorated in a gawdy manor that only an artist could appreciate.

Still, the film offers a look at a grand institution masquerading as a grand illusion, hanging on to past glory.  Fittingly, the film ends with the retirement of one of the staff’s mainstays, Concierge  Dwight Owsley.   He is leaving because he no longer feels welcome in a world that has lost its dignity.  Fitting.