Halston, the designer who defined disco fashion as much as Donna Summer did its sound, was born, of all places, in Des Moines. Ninety-one years ago in August, Halston won the title of “Healthiest City Boy” at the Iowa State Fair. He was 2 years old, but the dude did grow up to be a full-length reflection of the six-foot-something goddesses he dressed, so I’d say the judges got it right. (No word if a Baby of the Year win followed.)
This bit of trivia, direct from the Iowa State Fair, is all the reason Little Big Screen needs to stream films featuring Halston hats, Halston wardrobe, Halston costumes, and of course, Halston himself.
Jackie (2016)
Directed by Pablo Larraín
Roy Halston Frowick dropped his first and last names in 1957. He didn’t become Halston, though, until Jackie Kennedy wore one of his pillbox hats to her husband’s 1961 inauguration. The egg-shaped silhouette, simple enough to make out from afar, even on 8mm film, became the First Lady’s thing, as you know, and so of course she was wearing a Halston pillbox hat on November 22, 1963.
Jackie, a sorta-portrait of that week in November, isn’t a biopic — it’s a dupe. The Halston hat, the Chanel skirt suit in a matching shade of frontal cortex pink and the rest of Camelot are reproduced in high-definition to glamorous and gnarly effect. The only flaws in the film, which appear to be by design, are the faces of the actors, looking swapped onto long-dead bodies. You can’t help but feel for the hairs of pink wool. Natalie Portman? Not so much.
Stream it on HBO Max. Rent in on Apple TV and Prime Video.
God Told Me To (1976)
Directed by Larry Cohen
A 1977 cover of People magazine is quite the mononymous resume: “Halston dresses Liz & Liza … Jackie, Bianca, Ethel, Barbara, Happy & Lee also know why he’s the top.” Halston’s IMDb page isn’t as long as that short list of Halstonettes, Hollywood or otherwise, but there’s at least one credit worthy of his name (and cocaine habit): Larry Cohen’s God Told Me To.
The film starts out as a scuffed-up police procedural but ends in a mess of genre and paranoia. (I’d hold it partially responsible for, among others, Videodrome, Se7en, The X-Files, The Empty Man and Alan Moore’s Providence.) Halston’s wardrobe for Deborah Raffin, who plays the Catholic cop-protagonist’s long-suffering girlfriend, brings dimension to what could’ve been a flat part. Instead, almond-shaped aviator eyeglasses turn her into his nearly perfect match.
Cabaret (1972)
Directed by Bob Fosse
Can we get this added to Halston’s poor IMDb page? We knew he dressed Liza Minnelli, his muse and bestie, for the 1973 Academy Awards, where she emerged for good from the black-as-coal musical, in a canary yellow two-piece ensemble, to accept the Oscar for Best Actress. But we didn’t know, at least not for certain, at least not until Minnelli spilled the beans, that Halston also dressed Sally Bowles. Just before filming began, Minnelli called Halston. She hated her Cabaret costumes and needed them redone. His work would go uncredited, so we’ll never know what he redid and didn’t, but I’d like to think he had a hand in the sheer, karate-belted blouse for “Maybe This Time,” the exact moment Minnelli won that Oscar.
Stream it on Tubi. Rent in on Apple TV and Prime Video.
Ultrasuede: In Search of Halston (2010)
Directed by Whitney Sudler-Smith
Yes, Whitney Sudler-Smith is Whitney from Bravo’s Southern Charm. If you can believe it, being known as Charleston’s Norman Bates is a step up from this feature-length faux pas of a Halston documentary. Both the director and central character, Whitney follows himself on a half-assed search for Halston’s secret sauce, like if Morgan Spurlock got a couple lunches at McDonald’s for Super Size Me, thinking he can pack on a few pounds of style and gravity in the process. This doesn’t happen, as viewers of Southern Charm are well aware. (Craig Conover, the co-founder of a “kick-ass sewing brand” who literally can’t stop lying, remains the show’s most Halstonian cast member.) But the final edit is a who’s who of blown interviews, and dare I say, essential for Bravo-heads.
Stream it on Tubi. Do not pay money to rent it.
