Following Coco Chanel, visionary designer Yves Saint Laurent is the latest of France’s fashion revolutionaries to get the star treatment; two biopics in 2014 alone. Unfortunately, his beautiful gowns can’t salvage director Jalil Lespert’s meandering film. Yves Saint Laurent aims to embody the essence of Saint Laurent’s art, but is ultimately missing a seam. Lespert’s clumsy inclusion of Pierre Bergé’s angle turns the film into one that is sumptuously clothed, but void in spirit.

As the film opens, Yves Saint Laurent (Pierre Niney) is already an established protégé of Christian Dior at 21. The film’s Yves is a willowy and shy artistic genius. We follow Yves from his struggle with the responsibility of running Dior, to his emotional breakdown, to his first fashion show under YSL, to his drug abuse and onward into middle age. The film’s notion of this fashion legend – a troubled genius who blossoms in his art but flails elsewhere – is seductive. The film exemplifies this familiar characterization in stunning cinematography but falls short in dramatic progression.

One such scene highlights Niney’s exceptional acting ability, for which he was awarded a César. After his first show as the head of his own fashion house, we can practically see Yves’s shy demeanor shattering while he relishes the glory of a standing ovation – a child basking in praise. This artfully simple moment is telling of Niney’s talent; he is able to capture both the passion of an artistic genius and the anxiety of a precocious young adult. But unfortunately, the film gives Niney no sustained opportunity to develop the character of Yves Saint Laurent.

Lespert’s interpretation of Saint Laurent is cinematically appealing but otherwise inert. The character is devoted to his art to a fault; his Yves never escapes the cliché of a troubled genius. For the majority of the film, the Yves Saint Laurent is reduced to a simpering man-child who thinks of little else other than making pretty clothing to please the crowds. Again and again, Pierre Bergé (Guillaume Gallienne), Saint Laurent’s real-life business and life partner, steals the spotlight to the film’s detriment. From the moment his character is introduced, Pierre distracts the audience from the eponymous hero. One is left wondering just how much direction the real Bergé, who was on set for a part of filming, had in the creation of the film.

Pierre Bergé’s business mentality constantly tugs at the hem of Yves Saint Laurent. The film paints the brand’s decision to create a prêt-a-porter line as one of purely business. Haute couture is financially dead, so Pierre has to decide what is best for YSL. In fact, Saint Laurent was the first designer to construct such a line; he did so as a political declaration. The idea of ready to wear designer clothing was one of democratization and a controversial communalist philosophy.

Nonetheless, YSL brand continues to be highly visible in a business-minded, commercial manner. The dresses featured in the film, which were chosen by Bergé, are all examples of YSL’s most marketable gowns. The film does not venture into YSL’s innovative haute couture, which is riskier and less appealing to the average moviegoer. Notably, very few models of color are used in the film – adding to the prosaic feel of YSL’s clothing. In actuality, Saint Laurent often used models of color in his shows. Several of his muses were of African descent. Yves Saint Laurent also fails to address the issue of French culture in the 20^th century, where fashion was a reflection of the tumultuous politics and trends.

Lespert seems to have forgotten the era in which Saint Laurent operated. Saint Laurent did his best work, and revolutionized French fashion in the process, during the “Trentes Glorieuses”. This thirty-year period of economic prosperity from the 1950’s to the 1970’s saw France’s rise to the forefront of art and fashion all over the world. At the same time, the country was dealing with the collapse of its last colonial ventures with the Algerian War in 1958 – when the film begins. Yet, like polite dinner conversation, the film expertly avoids any direct confrontation with troublesome topics. Whenever politics are mentioned, Lespert’s Yves sidesteps the issue. We are left wanting to know more and feeling cheated of the importance of the issues that Lespert should have tackled head on.

In real life, Saint Laurent could not escape the political turmoil of the times. The designer was conscripted in 1960 to fight for the French cause. This forced him to leave his art, and it led to a breakdown caused by homophobic hazing he suffered in the army. Once again, we see none of the inconvenient details. A voiceover simply informs us that the designer was beaten, broken down, and sent to a psychiatric facility. However, when that issue is addressed on screen, Yves is already well into recovery. Only a faint fatigue in Niney’s face and sadness in his eyes betray the gravity of the abuse. Homophobia is barely mentioned again.

Even the Vietnam War and the rise of communist ideals are given the Lespert treatment. Giant cultural events are briefly introduced and quickly whisked away like last season’s patterns. Before we can fully understand the societal movements that inspired the designer, the film cuts to scenes of Yves’s drunken escapades or his lovers’ quarrels with Pierre. Yves Saint Laurent dangles a cultural revelation before us, only to snatch it back and replace it with scenes of Yves’s frivolous personal life. At every turn, Lespert undermines Saint Laurent’s inspirations. In the end, the film is inundated with scenes of the designer’s mood swings and drug abuse.

There were ample opportunities to use fashion and film to construct a commentary on the political issues of 20^th century France. But, none of Saint Laurent’s political ideals are explored. None of his cultural influences are explained.  Instead, the character of Pierre Bergé is elevated to that of the long-suffering partner. Although this is not a severe departure from the true events of Saint Laurent’s life, these ending scenes only added on to the unfulfilled feeling of the whole film as a biopic about Yves Saint Laurent – not Pierre Bergé.

For a film about French fashion, Yves Saint Laurent could not be more commercialized and meaningless. Lespert doesn’t make any statements, doesn’t ruffle anyone’s feathers. He blithely glosses over the less pretty aspects of Saint Laurent’s life. Lespert’s safe approach to fashion only reinforces the false impression that the industry is void of deeper meaning.  Niney valiantly tries to bring out the nuances, but he isn’t given the proper environment in which to develop his character. Instead, Pierre Bergé’s business-minded persona steals the show. The film is a fluffy, convenient confection of fashion attempting to summarize the iconic culture of French couture. Unlike its namesake, Yves Saint Laurent presents only empty fashion.