Susan Warms Dryfoos

(On Cable TV, October 2022) As of this writing, Al Hirschfeld has been dead for nineteen years (1903–2003!), and it’s a fair bet to say that his status as one of the great American entertainment caricaturists is fading away every year. (I myself have some recognition of his distinctive style, in which a simple line can be so expressive.)  But he’s always going to remain one of the twentieth-century greats through the body of work he leaves behind: From the 1930s to the early 2000s (he started young and never retired), Hirschfeld drew everyone who was anyone on Broadway, which meant caricaturing nearly every single American audio-visual celebrity at one time or another. His style was, in a word, witty—he could both represent and summarize a stage or screen persona in a few evocative lines—and hide the name of his daughter NINA a few times in the drawing as well. It helped that he was instantly recognizable due to his own very specific appearance—his flowing white beard well in evidence. The Line King presents him at the peak of his fame, as a Manhattan showbiz eminence grise respected by everyone. Gushing testimonials from stars having purchased copies of their own caricatures are weaved between an overview of his life throughout its many decades, shots of him at work, descriptions of his working habits, proof of his influence (if the title reminds you something, the film explains how Hirschfeld’s style found its way in the Disney Animation renaissance of the 1990s) and shows him hobnobbing with celebrities at a Broadway premiere. One of the most striking things about Hirschfeld is that he chronicled most of the twentieth century—he met, drew and was celebrated by generations of Hollywood people, and the film remains steadily amazing in showing just how many people he caricatured. His eccentricities are charmingly described, and the overall accumulation of decades of steady work is impressive in itself. Writer-director Susan Warms Dryfoos’s documentary may now push twenty-five years of age, but it still speaks by itself. It’s fun viewing and it clearly acts as an excellent tribute to its subject. (Tangentially: An uncredited music snippet even led me to finally track down one of TCM’s signature jingles prior to its 2021 redesign: The TCM Early Morning Bumper featured Keith Nichol’s Jelly’s Blues.)