My mother was Ingrid Bergman.
She was a big Hollywood star in the '40s.
And right after the war, she went to Europe to entertain the troops
and, when she stopped in Paris, she met Robert Capa,
who had been the great photographer of the Second World War.
They met at the Ritz Hotel and they liked each other immensely.
And then, eventually, they fell in love.
And then he ran into her again in Berlin a few weeks later.
They were really in love.
At least, she was definitely in love,
because she wrote about it in her memoirs.
And this is how I came to know about it.
Mamma gave me the manuscript before the book was published.
And I read, and I was completely surprised.
And I said, you had an affair with Robert Capa!
That was my hero!
Capa was hoping to get into the movies himself.
And she went to Hollywood to do a film with Alfred Hitchcock.
And Capa went along.
Back in Hollywood, Ingrid Bergman was still a married woman,
and a scandal could ruin her career.
A shoot for Life magazine gave Robert Capa a pretext to join her
discreetly on the set of Notorious.
This first series of on-set photos taken by a photographer in love with an actress
perfectly illustrate the close ties that bind Magnum photographers
and the world of cinema.
From the day it was created in 1947, Magnum Photos made history.
Founded by Robert Capa, David Seymour...
..George Rodger and Henri Cartier-Bresson,
it was the first agency to assert the independence of photographers
and to fight to protect their rights.
Today, Magnum has about 70 active members
that include some of the most famous names in photography.
In these boxes are some of history's most iconic images -
printed proof of photojournalism's commitment to observing the world.
But there are also pictures that have come to define cinema...
..pictures taken by a handful of photographers occasionally stopping off on
a film set as they travelled between war zones.
It was chance in the person of Robert Capa that brought these two worlds together.
Capa was born in Budapest and then studied in Germany
and then came to Paris in 1933.
And during that time,
I think film and cinema played a very important role
in the imagination of what he could potentially aspire to do.
In some of the early letters he writes to his mother from Paris,
he talks about being a film-maker some day,
"One day, I will be great and big."
Throughout Robert Capa's life,
cinema provided an imaginative escape from reality
and his reputation as a war photographer.
Ernest Hemingway, who had met Robert Capa during the Spanish Civil War,
first opened the doors to Hollywood.
He went to Sun Valley to visit Hemingway in 1940 and then 1941.
And he met various Hollywood celebrities -
Gary Cooper and Howard Hawks there.
You know, he was an incredibly playful, joyful character in person.
He could charm anyone - men as well as women,
directors and businesspeople.
He usually got his way.
In 1941,
the attack on Pearl Harbor hastened the US entry into the war, and Capa
was finally able to travel to Europe.
Throughout the war, Capa extended his circle of Hollywood friends,
often around a poker table.
Capa, of course,
had this close relationship with a lot of the film directors who were
in the American army.
Or at least attached to the army,
as Robert Capa was attached to
the army while not being in it.
FROM FRENCH:
He is thinking about a cinemagraphic visual experience
in much of his work. I'm thinking
particularly in North Africa, where there's a plane landing on a strip.
It's all barren,
and there's one man waiting for the plane to arrive.
It's really just out of a Hitchcock film.
And then other scenes of the desert,
of these camels rushing for him.
I mean, again, Lawrence Of Arabia.
He had a visual sense for the dramatic
when, frankly, there wasn't a lot of story.
So, with the little elements that he had to photograph, he had to really
make them hold the drama.
When he joined Ingrid Bergman in 1946,
Capa was no stranger to Hollywood.
He had even been hired by a studio as an apprentice producer director.
But he was not very comfortable in Hollywood.
In Hollywood, you can only get
around if you're a good driver.
He was a terrible driver.
He actually crashed a car out there.
Capa quickly lost interest in Hollywood.
He preferred being a reporter.
And Ingrid Bergman was talking about marriage and family.
Robert felt that he was not the husband type,
meaning that he knew that eventually
he was going to die in a conflict.
And he did die. And I think that
Mamma always said that, if it had been her choice,
she would have married him, but he wasn't available.
But then she married my dad, who was kind of a similar type.
He said goodbye to Bergman and came back to New York in the spring of 1947.
I went to see him.
And he was very depressed because his expedition to Hollywood
had not worked out.
It was in New York in the restaurant
at MoMA that Magnum Photos was conceived.
Well, Magnum really was his idea.
It was something that he had dreamed about since 1938, if not before.
The idea that an agency could really manage a photographer's work while
they are out in the field photographing and making the story.
The young agency was revolutionary.
As Cartier-Bresson said, "Magnum is a community of thought,
"guaranteeing photographers exclusive ownership of their negatives and prints."
Before that time, nobody kept their copyright.
You know, you worked for Life magazine,
you just gave them the film. You were like a plumber, basically.
I think he felt that photographers should be treated better too,
to be given more right to do what they wanted to do.
Instead of being told how to take things,
they should be able to have more of their own personality
in photography.
It was very difficult for the early photographers
cos none of the magazines,
including Life magazine, wanted to play by those rules.
But Magnum desperately needed money, and Capa, a shrewd businessman,
saw his Hollywood connections as a means to replenish the agency's bank account.
FROM FRENCH:
The idea was a very good one, which is to make stories about the movie,
about the people, about the location,
to get publicity in magazines.
You had the photographer on the set whose job was to cover everything
that's going on on the set.
But they would also bring in the special photographer with the idea
of getting spreads in major magazines.
The major magazines always wanted to buy material because they didn't
want the given-out material,
cos they knew that everybody else had it.
The late '40s and then the early '50s,
he sort of cooked up his assignments for himself
to place him in these wonderful locations where his friends were filming.
But he really was a magazine photographer.
That was really what his business was.
Later, he wrote about all the film work he did very dismissively.
He said, "That's done, I'm over with that.
"I want to get back to REAL photography."
And he said, "I want to travel, maybe I'll go to Indochina."
That was a year before he went.
He said himself, towards the end,
"photography's not for grown-up men,"
which meant that it wasn't that exciting for him any more.
And, of course, going to Indochina was absolute madness.
Magnum went on because of Chim.
Nobody really thought that Magnum would go on,
cos Capa was really running Magnum in a funny sort of way.
It was just everybody rallying around, saying, we won't let go.
But Chim was absolutely determined.
I remember Chim Seymour because Chim was a very good friend of Capa.
And when Capa died, um...
he was a lot around us.
I don't know if he was a lot around us because Mum and Chim
were consoling each other about Bob's death or, you know,
with friendship and presents.
But I remember this wonderful...
I remember his face always having
a Leica round his neck and photographing constantly.
He was talking and interacting and then taking photos as if they were...
..two person - one person that was completely normal and talking,
and then the other one noticing things and so capturing it.
And he created a mystique about my family.
I mean, the most beautiful photos of the love between my mother and my father,
Roberto Rossellini, and the three of us kids
are captured in Chim's photo.
Well, after Capa died,
there were two people who kind of looked upon Magnum as Capa's children.
One was Ted Patrick, who was the editor of Holiday magazine,
and the other one was John Huston.
And they always came back to Magnum, and they were very good about hiring
younger photographers.
And they were served very well.
FROM FRENCH:
When you come on a set like that, it's not what you're looking for,
it's what's in front of you and what's possible,
to see what's in front of you and try to make something out of it.
It's not rocket science.
One's job was to find some different aspect that a magazine could use.
People like myself were really good at doing that because we could do
a different approach.
We could attack from the side, basically, rather than the front.
Magnum photographers were observers of the world.
And this documentary approach was poles apart from the studio's own photos.
They brought a breath of fresh air into a world of gloss and touch-ups
that offered a sterile notion of perfection.
In 1954...
..I was based out of Hollywood.
I went out there, initially,
to work on a film that Stanley Kramer was making called The Caine Mutiny.
And the star of the film was Humphrey Bogart.
For whatever reasons, Mr Bogart sort of adopted me.
He became my mentor.
Billy Wilder introduced him to Humphrey Bogart.
And they hit it off because Bogart was from New York and they were both
sort of tough guys and full of themselves,
and they liked each other.
And, you know, one of the signs of Humphrey Bogart's trust in Dennis
was he let him shoot him without his toupee.
Nobody knew Humphrey Bogart was almost bald.
And Dennis has these great pictures on his sailboat
of a bald, or balding, Humphrey Bogart.
And was kind enough to introduce me to quite a few people that were in
the motion picture industry.
One of them was Nicholas Ray.
And Nick had a ritual where he had a Sunday soiree, so I was invited to
one of these parties.
Nick took me and then he guided me over to a young man and he said,
Dennis, this is James Dean.
I had no idea who he was.
In our discussions, Jimmy said, I just finished a film called East Of Eden,
and would you like to come and see it?
I went to see the film
and, frankly, I was blown away.
And I went up to him and I said, "It was wonderful,
"I really love what you did,
"I want to do a story on you."
Dennis Stock followed James Dean for two months,
from Hollywood to Fairmount, Indiana.
The people who raised him from the age of nine to about 19 were his
aunt and uncle, and they welcomed me with open arms.
They were just extraordinarily friendly.
And till this day, I'm a close friend of the family's.
But in the mix of being there, I could sense that Jimmy wasn't really
ever going to return.
And what it pointed out, though,
is the tragedy of Jimmy incapable of understanding what he had.
He was just a little alienated soul that bounced around in search of...
..God knows what.
One morning, we got up.
He said, "Come on, I want to show you something."
We walked into this furniture store and to another room.
And in that other room were coffins.
And he jumped into one.
So we went through all these childish expressions that he did within the coffin.
And at the very end, I sort of grabbed him and I said, "Now, sit still.
"Just look at me. Sit up and look at me."
And within that image,
I would like to believe that it shows how lost he was.
He lived...
..a kind of contradictory life to being on the cusp of being a star.
There was something about New York that wore him down.
I followed him wherever he was willing to show me what was
his relationships to people and locations,
and what came out of that in the final analysis that had the most
appealing possibilities was the photograph of him in the rain
on Times Square.
We probably have a great many young people watching our show tonight.
And for their benefit, I'd like your opinion about fast driving on
the highway. I used to fly around quite a bit, you know.
Took a lot of unnecessary chances on the highway.
And I started racing.
And now I drive on the highways, I'm extra cautious.
Jimmy said he was going to drive the following weekend,
and would I like to come along?
And my first reaction was,
"Wow, yeah, I'd love that, that would be fun."
And I have no idea till this day, but something came into my mind and
I looked at him and I said, "I can't."
Take it easy driving. The life you might save might be mine.
You can say it's good fortune I wasn't with him.
When you have that kind of relationship,
it makes it so much different,
you know, it makes it possible to get that intimacy.
And I think the extreme case of that is undoubtedly Monroe with
Eve Arnold. They were really friends and totally at ease with each other.
What happened was,
Marilyn had seen a set of pictures I'd done for Esquire on
Marlene Dietrich. And you must remember that, in the '50s -
this was, I think, 1952 -
and in those days, practically everything was front lit,
very carefully organised.
I didn't know about any of that.
And I was a documentary photographer.
I simply took her as she was.
There was no posing, no set-up, no lighting, no tripod.
Just me and Marlene singing.
There we were, working on this,
and we were both at a party for John Huston.
And Sam Shaw, the mutual friend, brought her over
and introduced us. And she looked at me and she said,
"If you did that well with Marlene,
"could you imagine what you can do with me?"
Which I thought was quite wonderful,
because she had a naive quality,
but she also had a great sense
of showmanship and self-promotion.
And she could see herself, I was sure,
and what she was going to look like in Esquire.
And then, one day, one night, about...
..four o'clock in the morning, I guess it was,
I got a call from her.
And would I join her at ten o'clock the next morning and go to Bement with her?
I could have an exclusive story because there'd be only she and her hairdresser.
Eve had that delicate touch,
and that's why, I think, other actresses,
including Joan Crawford, allowed her to photograph her
getting ready to go out.
Because a lot of actresses are asked to be not the person, but the image.
So Joan Crawford allowed Eve to come and photograph the process of
creating this image of Joan Crawford that people wanted.
Because she wanted to reveal to the world it isn't so easy when you say,
"Come to dinner, drop by, show yourself at the benefit."
It takes hours of preparation if you want the persona.
And Eve was once again revealing an aspect of human behaviour,
but with no judgment.
And it was in Chicago when we had that heavy layover,
which took hours...
..and she went into the ladies' room,
and, you know, as another woman, I just followed after.
I didn't intend to shoot,
but she looked so wonderful with her skirts hiked up and those little fat
chubby legs, which nobody thought of as being that way, hanging out below.
Because I always thought of her as kind of slender.
And what she had, which was wonderful,
was a capacity to think tall, cos she was small.
This picture is so intimate.
And I just love the idea that Eve was so obviously friends with,
and trusted by, and this to me is
the ultimate taking of a picture.
I photographed her over a ten-year stretch.
In the beginning, there was something like
the shortest of the six sessions
was two hours and the longest was two months -
on the film The Misfits that John Huston directed.
Arthur Miller had written a short story about three...
..men who worked on the desert and brought in the wild horses, which
they then sold to be killed for dog food.
And into this wildlife of theirs came Marilyn.
It had Clark Gable in the lead,
it had Marilyn as the female lead,
it had Montgomery Clift, Eli Wallach,
and it was meant to bring Marilyn forward as a very serious actress.
IN FRENCH:
The filming of The Misfits played a pivotal role
in the history of photography's relationship with cinema.
For three months, during the summer of 1960,
nine major Magnum photographers
took turns to chronicle this chaotic shoot
in Reno, in the Nevada desert.
The exceptional on-set access wasn't just down to John Huston's
close ties with the agency.
The idea had originated with Lee Jones,
the then head of special projects in the New York office,
who felt this dream cast movie deserved exceptional coverage.
The first photographers to arrive in Reno were Inge Morath and
Henri Cartier-Bresson.
So all of this was exotic.
And naturally, this being such an American movie, it was also exotic to us.
So, in a way, we approached it from our very European point of view.
The Misfits was the result of Marilyn Monroe's
kind of tardiness...
..nervousness and just general, what shall we say, just general distress.
I was drawn to Marilyn Monroe not as a sex object, but as a struggling
artist who was really depressed.
And there's one picture with Huston.
I didn't like the idea that I'd got away with it.
You know, she was really in torment.
I think Monty Clift must have been another one,
and I think a lot of them came out of the Actors Studio in New York,
the ones who Dennis felt were more human and somehow managed to retain
who they were, even in Hollywood,
where everybody was sort of putting on a facade.
And Monty Clift didn't.
Sometimes, you know, the work is so...
you know, you try to read through,
and you feel sometimes it's on the verge of a kind of craziness.
But it isn't really craziness.
It's really getting the truest part of yourself out,
and it's very hard, you know.
I mean, it's not easy, let's say.
Yes, I think we all used her.
I don't think there's any question about that.
As a photographer, one has to accept the fact that one does invade
other people's privacy.
However, you could argue that, without the still camera,
Marilyn would not have been Marilyn.
We would not have seen her cos that's the way most people saw her.
So it's a circular thing.
We all used each other.
She used me...
..to help her to get where she was going -
me and hundreds of others.
You know, I was not unique in that.
Unique only in the fact that she trusted me.
These photographers who worked on it were not your paparazzi types -
they were Magnum people.
There were no people that would have done damage or scandal or anything
like that. Among us, I don't think so.
Filming wrapped on The Misfits on November 4, 1960.
The following day, Clark Gable suffered a heart attack.
He died days later.
Rarely had the divide between fiction and the real world
been so narrow.
With the challenge of TV,
cinema had begun to lose its allure for the big magazines.
It was the end of an era for Magnum and cinema.
A little bit further, a little bit further. That's it.
Now get your hand up near your face.
Near your face. I'm shooting in very, very close on your head now.
Keep your hand near... That's it.
But a new era was beginning in Europe.
In London, David Hurn took up the torch.
What is called the '60s really started in the late '50s.
So that sort of cultural movement, I was very much a part of.
You know, by that time, I'd known all the people, all the players.
Tom Carlisle, an important publicist,
gave him privileged access into the film world.
Whenever Tom had a film that he thought was interesting,
he would always phone me up, and I would go and do it, and so
that's how I did the Bond films, and Tom was the publicist on Barbarella,
so that's how I did all the Barbarella stuff.
And so, the only film which was well-known that I did that was
not that was The Beatles.
# It's been a hard day's night... #
And I enjoyed doing them because I didn't have to do the job of
photographing what was happening in front of the camera.
I was much more interested on the reaction of the fans to them, etc.
In fact, it was so intense for them that, if I drove a car with any of
them in it, you could not stop the car.
If it was a red light, you went through because, if you stopped,
you would never move again.
I think one of the other things is that I always had a good,
what I would call slightly journalistic look.
So I was aware you would get people of this age,
so that most of the pictures you see are of the young kids,
but I found it fascinating that grannies were there as well.
And so, maybe almost artificially,
I might have more pictures of grannies
than were actually there in the overall,
because I would think that they were important to do.
While Beatlemania stormed the world,
art-house cinema stirred a revolution.
Magnum newcomers, keen to make their mark, documented these cinema auteurs.
The times sparked some surprising collaborations.
Nicolas Tikhomiroff befriended Orson Welles.
Constantine Manos followed Elia Kazan during the shooting of
America America, his most personal film.
And Bruce Davidson,
who had just spent two years documenting extreme poverty in Harlem,
was hired by Antonioni to photograph his first American film...
..Zabriskie Point.
He did something very interesting.
He said to me,
"I'd like you to make a picture that you like."
So I learned there was this pre-historic dried lake, and I took
Daria and Mark and did a nude thing.
I was completely free to do that, you know.
And it was a little bit Antonioni-ish too,
and maybe that's when he trusted me,
because he knew that I was an artist in
a quest of life, and he understood that, being an artist himself.
The '70s signalled a shift in Magnum's relationship with cinema.
The public still had a healthy interest in the stars,
but the magazines now got their pictures from the paparazzi.
And their approach was radically different.
Although photographers disappeared from film sets,
cinema inspires them to this day.
Like Gueorgui Pinkhassov,
who discovered art and spirituality through the eyes of
a great Russian film-maker, Andrei Tarkovsky.
I remember, once I came to Magnum, and they asked me if I would like to
participate on the shooting of the film, and I said no.
They came back to me and they said, "Listen," you know.
"They don't want you to photograph the film."
But that they want me to look on the countries
which we were travelling through.
This is going to be filmed with few people - about six people.
You are going to travel around the Balkans in the small bus and
in the winter period.
Now, it's 45 years that I travel.
I never stop in one place for more than three months.
I know, if I stay in one place, that I become blind.
I could get on the places.
I could wake up in the morning and say goodbye.
I come back to a hotel in the evening...
..and I just walk around.
Angelopoulos and me, we look on the same reality.
We were looking for something different.
And it was interesting to show how different people and different media
can show the same reality.
In fact, he told me, after a few days, also...
People still remember the pictures.
They stay in their mind.
The pictures look like Koudelka's pictures.
And some of them are just on the set,
and that's one of the miracles of photography.
How does that happen?
We've all got just a box with a hole in the front.
Now, in theory,
you shouldn't have any control over that.
The reality is that, if you look at ten Cartier-Bresson pictures,
If you look at ten Koudelka pictures, you can tell they're by Koudelka.
There's something absolutely extraordinary about that.
You know, it's very good that the thing's documented.
Whether or not you need to do it for every Hollywood movie,
I don't think so but, occasionally,
some of them come along that are just,
you know, really crying out to be recorded -
something else beyond just the narrative of the movie.
It's wonderful to see these after... God, how long, 20 years?
That actually, it doesn't look like a movie and that, to me,
is fantastic. They look like photographs.
So, you know, I'm delighted by that.
This was in Belgrade,
the scene where we had the train and the horses, and this was just
a waiting room in a station, but it just looks so beautiful, you know,
people smoking. They weren't even part of the movie,
it was just something that was there.
So, you know, there is a fantastic heritage.
And I think, you know, we wanted to drive that forward and continue
it in some way. But I don't know.
Now the studios are so controlled by PR.
I don't think you could do it in quite the same way as you could.
Normally, when you're photographing celebrities, great actors,
the expectation is you're going to go into the studio.
Basically, the way it's worked for a number of years now,
you book a studio, you book a hair and make-up team,
and the actors have come to expect that.
But we wanted to try to somehow shake that up,
and that was the thinking behind the year
that we had Paolo Pellegrin do the actors for our annual Great Performers portfolio.
And so she set the bar very high because she said, "Paolo, I want you
"to rethink this genre."
Um...
I said, "OK, thank you."
It's easier said than done because, when you're in that world,
you can only do so much if you have the access.
You can't do a documentary reportage on Cate Blanchett or Kate Winslet or
Robert Downey Jr or whoever the actor might be unless they're brave enough
to say, "Yes, come along, you can watch me, fly on the wall."
And with that particular project, we managed to get that access.
It's pretty impressive, given that, at that point, Paolo was really known
for his war photography.
So there's nothing in his body of work that most actors would have looked at
and thought, "Oh, sure, I'd love to be photographed by him."
She obviously asked me because of what I do,
so I shouldn't do anything different.
And I should bring and apply my core values,
and those are an interest in the other,
which certainly transcends a celebrity aspect...
..or the public persona aspect.
I went and I showed them my work and I said,
"I come from a different experience.
"This is what I do." And we started talking.
He said, "Let's go for a drive." He has a beautiful car.
So we started driving around, and I was talking...
He was talking about the narcos in Mexico.
I was talking about Gaza and the Palestinians.
And, you know, what was supposed to be 60 minutes, I don't remember,
ended up being like an entire day that we spent together.
You know, when he got access, let's say,
to Sean Penn's home and Brad Pitt,
he had access, but not full access.
There were certain things that were off-limits.
On the other hand, I'm still amazed, the access he got to Kate Winslet
and the cover picture of her in hair curlers.
I love that, that she had the confidence to be so open.
Of course, she looked spectacular.
It was very special, to photograph her,
because she really brought something...unique.
She had...
a light which was really special and very hers.
One thing I did tell them,
I'm not going to direct you, I don't want to ask,
but I would like, as much as possible,
for you to enter your own inner world,
and she was so amazing at that...
..that it became like this physical battle.
So, over the course of the session, she was so good and she was so...
You know, it nearly had a spiritual element,
the time I spent with her in that hotel.
And maybe it was the hotel, the red room,
this New York light coming through the windows,
this warm sort of yellow light and her...
..capacity to keep, you know, this moment for ever.
It was really, really special.
What Paolo did is truly, you know,
a majestic work by a photographer at the height of his powers, you know,
in a way.
What I was doing was...
..you know, something OK in the midst of
figuring a lot of things out.
Every photographer has kind of a different signature.
Peter van Agtmael I see as being more direct...
..and wanting it to look more like
an inner world. There's like a subtlety to his work.
And often, his human figures, they're always smaller in the frame.
And he managed to even carry that over
into his coverage of Jeff Bridges,
which is interesting, cos Bridges is extremely handsome,
larger than life,
famous actor, and yet he still managed to make pictures
where it looks like an ordinary guy at the airport,
like, as if you wouldn't even recognise him.
Really? That's him? I like that he's just looking for ordinariness and,
but it's just real life.
I don't hold Hollywood in any particular esteem,
and so the pictures are not going to necessarily mimic the language of
what has been created around these people, which is this kind of...
essentially a cult of personality, you know.
I don't really get it, honestly.
A great celebrity portrait is one that feels truer
than the usual affair.
In other words, that it's somehow a portrait,
that there seems to be some element
of authenticity to it, where you get a sense of who that person is.
Maybe they're caught in an ever-so-slightly off-guard moment.
I feel like, for all portraiture, that's what you're always looking for.
It's what I'm always looking for -
there is something just unposed enough,
unselfconscious enough about the picture-making that was happening
that there's some revelation of truth.
It's very hard to do that with actors because, all day long,
they're photographed, they're filmed, they're putting on a face.
But still, a certain kind of photographer might just get a little bit closer,
something a little bit truer.
Recalling Magnum's first ventures into Hollywood,
this new generation of photographers renewed the intimacy,
that extra touch of humanity that made Magnum's cinema photographs such
an essential part of the history of both cinema and photography.
We were all in the studio, all about to shoot the picture,
and Tom comes up to me and he said, "I've forgotten the gun,
"we don't have a gun." So there we are,
in my studio without a gun, and all
these people flown in from America to be there!
So I said, "God, we're in luck."
My hobby at the time was target shooting, and the gun that I had,
it was an air pistol.
I said, "Nobody here will know.
"All you've got to do is,
"when they come to do the artwork for the poster,
"cut the barrel off there,
"and nobody would know the difference."
There he is, posing about, Mr Bond with his air pistol, you see!
Well, of course, they forgot to tell the people in the design thing to do
that, and so the posters that came out,
they're all with Sean Connery with an air pistol.
I mean, isn't that...
I mean, the world is bonkers!
The film...world is bonkers!