Peter Hujar, an important photographer in the avant garde 70s of Greenwich Village, is no longer on the tip of anyone’s tongue. Linda Rosenkrantz, a writer with a penchant for recording her friends, had a novel idea for her new book. She would ask them to write down everything they did on one particular day and then come to her apartment and describe that day to her, taping their stories. Hujar was one of those friends. Although the book never came to fruition, the tapes remained and filmmaker Ira Sachs was entranced with her interview of Hujar, using that transcript as the basis of “Peter Hujar’s Day.”
Set in Rosenkrantz’s apartment, you are the fly on the proverbial wall listening to a conversation between two friends, marking the mundane activities of the artist set against what they wouldn’t have known at the time was a significant view of the 1970’s New York art world.
Hujar, a gay artist during the emerging maelstrom of the gay liberation movement, was of and at the forefront of his time. He recounts his day to Rosenkrantz as ordinary, filled with details and the minutia of what he considers to be mundane questions. Filled with the names of the era—Bob Dylan, Robert Mapplethorpe, Richard Avedon, Lauren Hutton, Fran Lebowitz, Susan Sontag—he is one among them.
Formerly a commercial photographer, he still maintains his ties within the industry and the most significant event of the day before was his appointment to photograph Alan Ginsberg. More important than deciding how he will shoot him was how he will dress for the “date.” Ginsberg, the beat poet, was already famous, and, as Hujar ponders, should have had the means to live under better circumstances. But his apartment in the East Village is uncomfortably dangerous and the decision about what coat he should wear to get there, his long coat or his red winter parka, was more about safety than fashion. Ginsberg is particularly prickly about not wanting a portrait for his “Vogue” article, so Hujar must figure out a way around his request to get the right angle in the cluttered, messy apartment. The real draw for Hujar is not his paying job, but the chance to meet William S. Burroughs and he excitedly recounts how they will hook up soon after.
The conversation between writer and photographer speaks to an era of sexual fluidity and the free flow of friendship and acquaintance. It’s a time when it seems as though everything was possible within the art world. And, to a certain extent it was.
Sachs, using a great backing (the painted backdrop used as background) that replicates the Village in the 70s from the terrace of Rosenkrantz’s apartment, has a pitch perfect set from the linoleum on the floor to the posters on the wall. He keeps everything more or less within the confines of Rozenkrantz’s apartment, varying the lighting, angles at which both are filmed and positioning them in different rooms while keeping the claustrophobic feeling. This is two people talking, much like “My Dinner with André” (1981), neither of whom is recognizable today but were at the time. This is not a static film and that is a credit to Sachs and his vision.
The major asset of this film and the reason to watch it, more so than the historical aspect, is the two actors. Rebecca Hall plays Linda Rosenkrantz. She is the trigger that keeps Hujar shooting, so to speak. Naturalistic to her core, she seamlessly pushes the narrative forward, finding ways to stimulate Hujar and zero in on the significant while not dismissing the mundane. But the real draw is Ben Whishaw as Hujar. His darting eyes, the hesitations in his speech and the fluidity of his movements bring you deep into the character’s psyche. Whishaw melts into the character, pulling you into the time and place. Believable, he embodies sexual fluidity while emphasizing the normalcy of his life within the context of Hujar’s time. In a career full of interesting characters, this is one of his best.
Now playing at the Laemmle Royal.
