Diane von Furstenberg climbs atop the bathroom counter, plants her bare feet in the washbasin and assesses herself in the mirror. She runs her hands through her tangle of curls, then uncaps some foundation and applies it to her face. Her uniform: a simple white nightshirt. The 77-year-old von Furstenberg exudes a regal air, even as she completes the most mundane of morning rituals. This is a woman, after all, who sparked fashion crazes, conquered the business world, married a prince and then a mogul, and did it all on her terms. And that includes allowing the filmmakers behind “Diane von Furstenberg: Woman in Charge,” a new documentary from Hulu about her life and career, to roll camera as she puts on her makeup, an intimate scene that kicks off the film.
“How many celebrities or icons would allow you to see them in that state?” marvels Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy, who co-directed the documentary with Trish Dalton. “She’s just woken up. All the lines and wrinkles are there. But that’s who she is. Diane has a beautiful saying that I carry with me: ‘You should wear your age — it’s your experience.’”
Von Furstenberg doesn’t think it took courage to be shown so unadorned. “This can’t be a vanity project,” she says. “I didn’t want this film to just be beautiful pictures from when I was young, or you’d think, ‘Who the fuck does she think she is?’ I hope this movie is inspiring, but that will only happen if I’m vulnerable.”
Obaid-Chinoy understands vulnerability. She has shown a great talent for convincing subjects to open up about the shocking violence or cruelty they’ve endured. In “Saving Face,” for which she received her first Oscar for best documentary short, she followed Pakistani women who were the victims of acid attacks. And in “A Girl in the River: The Price of Forgiveness,” which earned her a second Academy Award, she profiled a 19-year-old woman who survived an honor-killing attempt by her father and uncle. Along the way, she’s documented the lives of suicide bombers, Taliban members, transgender Muslims, and now, the creator of the wrap dress.
“I tell stories about people who are marginalized or misunderstood,” Obaid-Chinoy says. “I’m determined to make movies that help people see others in a different light and maybe understand them better. That’s how you build bridges.”
Obaid-Chinoy and I are having breakfast at a restaurant near Lincoln Center. She arrived in New York from Pakistan the night before. It’s a trip she’s taking two or three times a month as she’s become more in demand, helming episodes of “Ms. Marvel” and preparing to direct a “Star Wars” movie. She’s racking up frequent flyer miles because she wants her two daughters to grow up around their Pakistani aunts and grandmother. Obaid-Chinoy claims she doesn’t suffer from jet lag. “Scientifically, it’s proven that when the plane takes off there’s a drop in pressure and some people fall asleep for the entire flight; I’m one of those people.”
Still, this morning, 45-year-old Obaid-Chinoy is clinging to her latte like a lifeline. Her black hair is flecked with gray, and that’s the way she likes it, citing von Furstenberg’s dictum not to mask your age. “Her words resonate deeply with me, because I come from a culture where women dye their hair.”
Her friendship with von Furstenberg, whom she met in 2012 at Glamour’s Women of the Year Awards, is what convinced the fashion icon to spend two years being shadowed by a documentary crew. “I could only do it with someone I respect, and I have tremendous respect for Sharmeen,” von Furstenberg says.
Despite their closeness, Obaid-Chinoy is a surprising choice to chronicle von Furstenberg’s personal and professional struggles and triumphs. After all, von Furstenberg is a woman at the epicenter of power, not on the margins of society. “It was her journey that excited me,” says Obaid-Chinoy. “I wanted to look at a woman who was unapologetic. Whatever life threw at her, she picked herself up, held her head high and kept charting her own path.”
Jingyu Lin for Variety
That path started in Belgium, where von Furstenberg grew up middle class and Jewish as Europe was emerging from the horror of World War II. Her mother, Liliane, was a Holocaust survivor who had been liberated from the camps 18 months before her daughter was born. After von Furstenberg went to Switzerland to attend boarding school, she met and then married Prince Egon von Furstenberg. After the couple moved to New York City in 1969, they became important figures in the social scene, rubbing elbows with the artists, rock stars and power brokers who gave the era its subversive, free-love edge. And they enjoyed that lifestyle themselves. Egon was sexually adventurous, having affairs with women and men, and, as the documentary makes clear, Diane also took advantage of their open relationship. She slept with Ryan O’Neal and Warren Beatty in the same weekend but on another occasion turned down Mick Jagger and David Bowie when they invited her to be part of a threesome.
“I had a husband who was quite promiscuous,” she says. “I wasn’t going to behave like a victim or a jealous housewife. I thought, ‘Why can’t I do what men do?’ It was a different time — it was somewhere between the pill being introduced and AIDS changing everything.”
She might have been a nightlife fixture who got past the bouncers at Studio 54, with a few delicious anecdotes to show for it, but von Furstenberg wasn’t just defined by her times — she defined them. She worked to establish herself as a designer, forging partnerships with manufacturers and retailers, but she still needed a big idea to break through. That came in 1974, with the wrap dress. With its V-neck, colorful prints and fitted top, her creation was sensual, sophisticated and designed to accentuate every curve. In the first two years, von Furstenberg sold a million units.
“There’s a reason the wrap dress has been around for 50 years,” says Obaid-Chinoy. “Diane always said it’s women before fashion, meaning it shouldn’t be about the dress, it should be about the woman wearing it. And her clothes evoke that feeling.”
Obaid-Chinoy’s journey to Hollywood started in Karachi, Pakistan. Her mother volunteered at an orphanage; her father was a businessman who began work early in the morning and oversaw a factory that manufactured towels until late at night. “I was the type of child who would always be asking questions. And one day, when I was 14 years old, my mother had enough and said, ‘Please put these questions to someone else,’” Obaid-Chinoy remembers.
So Obaid-Chinoy started contributing articles to one of the country’s English-language newspapers. “I’m not sure they knew how young I was,” she admits. “Because I would just mail my stories in to the paper.”
One of her pieces, a look at a ring of privileged bullies who would kidnap fellow students, drive them around for hours and shave off their hair, inspired fierce blowback: The front gates of her house were spray-painted with obscene messages. But instead of being fearful, Obaid-Chinoy’s father said to his daughter, ‘If you speak the truth, I will stand with you and so will the world.’”
That world would soon change, and Obaid-Chinoy with it. She was studying economics and political science at Smith College when the Twin Towers and the Pentagon were attacked on Sept. 11, 2001. In the aftermath, she participated in a “20/20” segment about Muslim college students. “It was as if we were being held responsible for what had happened,” she recalls. “But it made me wonder how I could make people understand who we are and where we come from.”
When she graduated from Smith in 2002, tensions were escalating in the Middle East; the United States had invaded Afghanistan, and the drumbeat of war with Iraq was growing louder. Obaid-Chinoy wanted to go where the story was unfolding. Despite having minimal film experience, she con- vinced the New York Times’ television unit to employ her as she followed eight children, displaced by the war in Afghanistan, across refugee camps. After that project was finished, she began filing dispatches and making documentaries for outlets such as PBS and CNN that examined the lives of the people in places like Syria, Kashmir and Iran.
“I became a filmmaker because of 9/11,” Obaid-Chinoy says. “I needed to make people see the impact of war, and film became the best way to do that.”
Jingyu Lin for Variety
Just as von Furstenberg reinvented herself throughout her career, Obaid-Chinoy has also undergone a metamorphosis. In recent years, she’s embraced big-budget filmmaking. Instead of real-life stories of injustice and violence, her focus has been on fantasies involving superheroes and space warriors. First, she oversaw two episodes of “Ms. Marvel,” a Disney+ series featuring the first Muslim protagonist in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Then she was tapped by Will Smith’s production company, Westbrook, to direct “Brilliance,” the dystopian story of an agent tasked with tracking down a small group of people born with powerful gifts.
But Obaid-Chinoy’s highest-profile gig will see her putting her imprint on a galaxy far, far away. She will direct a “Star Wars” film centered on Rey Skywalker as she leads the Jedi Academy. When I ask Obaid-Chinoy what attracted her to the project, she approaches the question like I’m guiding her toward the Sarlacc pit. “The story that interests me most is in Rey’s journey as a female Jedi,” Obaid-Chinoy says. “That’s how I can best bring my experiences to it.”
As the first woman and the first person of color to direct a “Star Wars” movie, Obaid-Chinoy has been subjected to the toxic side of the franchise’s fandom. Right-wing critics denounced her hire as an example of “woke-ism” and threatened to boycott the film after earlier remarks Obaid-Chinoy made about the goal of her art being to “make men uncomfortable” were recirculated without context. Obaid-Chinoy is diplomatic when I ask her about the criticism her hire received in some corners of the internet.
“The greatest thing about ‘Star Wars’ is that everyone has a personal connection to it,” she says. “Everyone is passionate about it. And throughout the fandom, people have clear ideas about who should direct or what the sto- ries should be about. I’m just drowning out those voices until I’m done. As a storyteller, I’m focused on drawing new moviegoers into the cinema, and bringing a sense of nostalgia that will appeal to older fans of the series.”
When von Furstenberg signed on for the documentary, she agreed there would be no preconditions about what Obaid-Chinoy could explore. That extended to von Furstenberg’s much-scrutinized relationship with Barry Diller, the media baron whom she married in 2001. Persistent rumors about Diller’s sexual orientation have led to speculation that theirs is a marriage of convenience. The documentary, which captures them as they prepare for family dinners or go for walks in the woods, makes it clear that, while their bond may be unconventional, it’s also very deep.
“This is a real relationship,” says Obaid-Chinoy. “A marriage is defined by the two people in it. And Diane and Barry spend so much time together. They are there for each other. They complete each other’s sentences. They fight like an old married couple.”
Obaid-Chinoy says neither von Furstenberg nor Diller balked when she asked them directly if their relationship was purely transactional. “As a filmmaker, it’s my job to ask the questions that people want answers to,” she says. “And Barry and Diane understood that.”
Diller loved the finished film, von Furstenberg says, but she had a tougher time seeing her life play out on-screen. “It was like visiting the gynecologist,” von Furstenberg says with a laugh. “I felt so exposed.
Source Agencies
