For Jacobs, whose most eye-catching accessory amid his uniform of black tracksuiting is a gun-sized vape, the film catches him preparing for his Spring 2024 collection, officially titled Wonder but better known in coverage as his “paper doll” show. Oversized coats with enlarged buttons and a handbag the size of half the body (one I would die for), along with teased hair raised to the nines, is what we get of the show until the final showcase. Amid flimsy models and Robert Therrien’s giant folding table and chairs (on loan from the Buffalo AKG Art Museum, and doubling as a nod to the collection’s 40th-anniversary milestone for the label), Jacobs holds the runway at the Park Avenue Armory. He’s nervous, I’m not sure why; the crowd is frankly less intimidating and less dressed than Sydney Fashion Week (which is saying something).

Fashion films, whether it’s Ralph Lauren’s or this one, tend to skip over the difficult details, the drug dependencies and rock-and-roll excess, that are such a crucial part of what makes their subjects who they are and how they became that way. Not in the moral sense, but stylistically. This film falls well short of the Alexander McQueen documentary McQueen(directed by Ian Bonhôte and Peter Ettedgui), or the Maison Margiela film Margiela: In His Own Words (directed by Reiner Holzemer), whose appeal lies in wrestling with the unsolved mystery of its subject’s identity. It also pales next to High & Low: John Galliano (directed by Kevin Macdonald). What it has going for it is blandness offset by a good story, Marc Jacobs’ own, and a pretty impressive impact on the industry, which is what keeps the film from being forgettable.