PabloFunny. Touching. Absurd. Wild. Colorful. Drugs. Cuba. Sex. Comics. New York. Movies. Sauna. Hollywood. Garage. Animation. Did you get all that? Rapid-fire flashes of images and a jazzy vibe, signature elements of the innovator of contemporary graphic design in media for the 20th century...Pablo Ferro. "Pablo who?" A sound bite from a new broadcast--one of many archives that form one of the legs of the table that is Pablo--rightly points out that even if you haven't heard the name, chances are that if you've been to the movies in the last forty years, you know his work.
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When I first saw Pablo at the 2014 Cleveland International Film Festival, I did so on a bit of a whim. See, I've always been a big fan of Stanley Kubrick, and had heard that this was a documentary about the guy who did the title credits for Dr. Strangelove, as well as the trailers for the same film and A Clockwork Orange. Truth be told, I didn't expect I'd enjoy the film, since there's an idea about documentaries--somewhat justified--that they tend to be a bunch of talking heads and boring interviews...no style; Pablo is different. From the droll and deadpan delivery of narrator Jeff Bridges, enlightening us as to a "brief history of the television commercial" and observing that "this is a pipe", to the lush and vibrant intercut animated history of the unsung legend of graphic design in video media, Pablo not only defied my expectations, it proved to be an instant revelation about what a documentary can be. And that was the same kind of crucial reaction that audiences experienced witnessing the work of Pablo Ferro, so the irony was not lost on me. Told somewhat out of sequence to establish tension and mystery surrounding this enigmatic figure in film production, Pablo is a "rags to riches to rags" story, chronicling his life from his humble origins as a Cuban immigrant at age eleven, to his ascension in the film industry, and the decline following a near-death experience. Tasked at an early age to bring income into his household in New York City, he took a job as an usher at a theater, and was able to draw quite a crowd when he boss commissioned him to produce an advertisement for the cinema, resulting in a pair of legs blown up to enormous size, and placed around the entrance. Bold and smart...and it was just the beginning. Pablo's career path would seem inexorably bound to visual arts, even after a stint working for Stan Lee, who would go off to found Marvel Comics; I would love to see a title sequence for a Marvel Cinematic Universe entry designed by Pablo Ferro. But it would be through the screen where Pablo would really shine, taking his next step into the arena of television commercials. Today, funny and provocative commercials are the norm; not so in the Fifties, until Pablo Ferro stormed the scene, and presented advertisements which were quick, punchy, jazzy, and reached audiences in a way advertisers couldn't even imagine. Pablo Ferro was not just good, he was a walking revolution--the cutting edge designer.
As Pablo tells the history of Pablo, it is done through vibrant and dynamic animated sequences, which pop on the screen, and speak of his personal life, as engrossing as his professional one. After his collaboration with Stanley Kubrick, the unprecedented style and nature of the trailer became a thing in and of itself, as much a talking point for audiences as the film, and it would be safe to say that it contributed to the success of this excellent film as well. Pablo spent his winnings--winning at life--generously on others, a pleasure which could only be unreal for someone who grew up in poverty, but was able to define himself and profit from his compelling imagination. His work would include such stylish cinematic entries as The Thomas Crown Affair and The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming, both by friend and colleague Norman Jewison, and the latter of which was edited by Hal Ashby, who would also not only become one of Pablo's dearest friends, but a crucial collaborator for Pablo in the Seventies. As his fame rose, so did the pull of Hollywood excess over his life, necessitating the dissolution of his marriage, and propelling him into the high life, including an East Village loft apartment, always filled with wild parties, naked girls in hot tubs, grass and Dom Pérignon, movie stars and jazz musicians. The parties reached the peaks of orgiastic excess; but all parties come to an end...just not always at the barrel of a gun. After the bullet, it was Hal Ashby who recruited Pablo Ferro to work, the two becoming an inseparable dynamic duo, until the passing of Hal Ashby. For all the electric and dynamic style of this legendary designer, it is disarming to see him now as an old man, living in the garage at his son's house, struggling to get money together to buy a sauna to help his aches, provoked by the mysterious incident involving a stranger knocking on his door and shooting him in the neck, a riddle which remains a mystery. Is this a tragedy? Well, like all art, it is a matter of perspective. Today, Pablo is reunited with his daughter, Joy, who is also his agent, and he continues to work in the artistic field he helped to craft, underscoring that tried but true maxim that family matters more than simply maintaining your place on the precipice of fame. It is ironic, though, that I now know more about Pablo Ferro courtesy of Richard Goldgewicht's film than I would have otherwise; I suppose that's the value of a documentary--point taken. This is Pablo; his iconic red scarf a great representation of the man behind the opening montage. It is vibrant, it is distinct; it may be a little worn, but it is unmistakably Pablo. Is your life a work of art?
Recommended for: Fans of some of cinema's most exciting and dynamic opening sequences; more so, for fans who didn't even know what kind of a fascinating person was responsible for their inception. Also recommended for those who are convinced that documentaries have to be boring, dry stuff; prepare to be delightfully mistaken.
As Pablo tells the history of Pablo, it is done through vibrant and dynamic animated sequences, which pop on the screen, and speak of his personal life, as engrossing as his professional one. After his collaboration with Stanley Kubrick, the unprecedented style and nature of the trailer became a thing in and of itself, as much a talking point for audiences as the film, and it would be safe to say that it contributed to the success of this excellent film as well. Pablo spent his winnings--winning at life--generously on others, a pleasure which could only be unreal for someone who grew up in poverty, but was able to define himself and profit from his compelling imagination. His work would include such stylish cinematic entries as The Thomas Crown Affair and The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming, both by friend and colleague Norman Jewison, and the latter of which was edited by Hal Ashby, who would also not only become one of Pablo's dearest friends, but a crucial collaborator for Pablo in the Seventies. As his fame rose, so did the pull of Hollywood excess over his life, necessitating the dissolution of his marriage, and propelling him into the high life, including an East Village loft apartment, always filled with wild parties, naked girls in hot tubs, grass and Dom Pérignon, movie stars and jazz musicians. The parties reached the peaks of orgiastic excess; but all parties come to an end...just not always at the barrel of a gun. After the bullet, it was Hal Ashby who recruited Pablo Ferro to work, the two becoming an inseparable dynamic duo, until the passing of Hal Ashby. For all the electric and dynamic style of this legendary designer, it is disarming to see him now as an old man, living in the garage at his son's house, struggling to get money together to buy a sauna to help his aches, provoked by the mysterious incident involving a stranger knocking on his door and shooting him in the neck, a riddle which remains a mystery. Is this a tragedy? Well, like all art, it is a matter of perspective. Today, Pablo is reunited with his daughter, Joy, who is also his agent, and he continues to work in the artistic field he helped to craft, underscoring that tried but true maxim that family matters more than simply maintaining your place on the precipice of fame. It is ironic, though, that I now know more about Pablo Ferro courtesy of Richard Goldgewicht's film than I would have otherwise; I suppose that's the value of a documentary--point taken. This is Pablo; his iconic red scarf a great representation of the man behind the opening montage. It is vibrant, it is distinct; it may be a little worn, but it is unmistakably Pablo. Is your life a work of art?
Recommended for: Fans of some of cinema's most exciting and dynamic opening sequences; more so, for fans who didn't even know what kind of a fascinating person was responsible for their inception. Also recommended for those who are convinced that documentaries have to be boring, dry stuff; prepare to be delightfully mistaken.