Celebrity

Book review.

Click to see on Amazon – I get no click-through payment.

This came along as a welcome gift to my photography book library. When it comes to the bad boy British photographers of the Swinging Sixties, the names you hear most often are Donovan, Duffy and Bailey. But a fourth, with a claim to having been there, is Terry O’Neill, whose pictures of the famous and near-famous are reproduced here.

In a typically well written essay introducing the book, A. A. Gill (who did sterling writing in the Sunday Times before the Dirty Digger came along) summarizes it nicely. Fame, he writes, is haute couture whereas Celebrity is ready to wear.

Some of these pictures leave me cold because given the natural beauty of their subjects it’s quite literally true to say that anyone could do it. I mean, can you imagine taking an ugly picture of Catherine Zeta-Jones, for example? Heck, even if you were a complete klutz, she wouldn’t let you.

But there are others which get through and show insights to the subjects’ characters that are quite fascinating, with perhaps the best being the cover picture, above. There’s a fine one of Roger Daltrey trying to act the land baron and not quite succeeding. It’s tough when, as Pete Townshend once described him, you are just ‘a sheet metal worker from Shepherd’s Bush’. One more poignant is of Tom Jones back in his Welsh coal town, ridiculously overdressed with a huge Rolls Royce. Sad. I wonder if he was in on the cruel joke? One even more moving is of an old Marlene Dietrich (German, yes, but the sheer number of GIs she slept with testifies that she was on our side), emerging from the side curtains onto the stage like a chrysalis becoming a butterfly. A pretty old and past-it butterfly, in her case, but extra points for trying. Another well observed one is of Faye Dunaway, O’Neill’s spouse at the time, on the morning after winning the Oscar, replete with silk gown and Beverly Hills Hotel pool. (Dunaway was a Celebrity; Bailey went one better, marrying Catherine Deneuve who was, and remains, Famous).

It’s a fun book, a confection which occasionally gets you thinking. Was O’Neill a great photographer. No. The fame of his subjects rubs off, but too rarely does his work show the sort of insight common to the terrible trio mentioned above.

There’s a video of O’Neill sounding disillusioned and preaching how digital is not ‘real photography’ which you can see, in lieu of watching the kettle boil, by clicking below. (Refresh your browser window if it’s not visible below):