Capamania




Robert Capa (1913-1954, the iconic WWII photographer, died 63 years ago but his gypsy charm continues to fascinate the ladies, this blogger was familiar with his body of work, but knew little of his short life until now.  His photo collection and publications are exclusively promoted and exhibited by the International Center of Photography (ICP) located in New York City.  ICP was founded by Capa’s younger brother Cornell, and is the official custodian of Capa’s photos and legacy.  The Magnum[1] co-operative (established by Capa and some of his buddy photographers in 1947 as Magnum Photos) also exhibits Capa’s photos.  At the occasion of the exhibition of Capa’s color photos[2] in Rio de Janeiro (ICP event), a friend recommended that this blogger read Blood and Champagne, The Life and Times of Robert Capa, a biography written by Alex Kershaw (2002)[3].  The book was not displayed in the ICP collection either in Manhattan or in Rio.  Cornell Capa, the zealous guardian of his brother’s reputation, did not authorize the biography. 

Although sympathetic to his subject, Blood and Champagne is not a hagiography of the charismatic and footloose war photographer, Capa comes across very much alive.  Kershaw compensates the absence of Capa’s iconic photos by making entertaining revelations.  He was born Endre Friedmann in Budapest and was reborn Robert Capa in Paris in 1933.  Capa[4] sounded less Jewish and more Hollywood, definitely more glamorous.  His metamorphosis led him to a photojournalist job to cover the horrors of the Spanish Civil War.  Spain set the stage for his unparalleled war photography career and gambler’s addiction to risk.  In 17 years, Capa photographed five wars: Spain, China, WWII in Europe and North Africa, Israel and Indochina. 

Spain was his most passionate and dramatic war experience, driven by his hatred of fascism and his romantic view of the socialist ideology.  Gerda Taro, the love of his life and fellow photographer was killed in Spain[5].   His most famous and most controversial picture was also taken in Spain: The Falling Soldier shows a man in a white shirt, rifle in arms being shot.  Action pictures were often hard to shoot, and staging was common practice.  At Capa’s request, the Republican soldier may have faked his death.  The jury is still out.  Capa claimed that he would not take a war assignment unless he loved one side and hated the other.  This statement is not entirely true: in 1954, he covered the Indochina war on the French army side not for hatred of the Communists, but because he needed the money.  Did his luck run out because he did not stick to his principles?

This blogger would have suggested to Kershaw an alternative title for the biography: “War, Sex, Booze and Gambling.”  Doe-eyed with cameras dangling from his neck and a cigarette from his lips, Capa charmed his way around.  He was a man of addictions with a peripatetic lifestyle.  He was a notorious womanizer; a consummate; compulsive and obsessive gambler; a boozer and a heavy smoker.  During WWII, he was burning the candle at both ends.  When not on the war set, Capa’s daily routine was still chaotic but more leisurely.  It started with a long bath, usually in a hotel or at friends’ homes where he studied his betting options on the racecourse, planned his poker games and organized his dates with women.  Lunch was taken with colleagues.  A little sex took place in the afternoon, and nights were dedicated to champagne parties, women and gambling.  Capa’s list of women reads like the London, Paris and Hollywood who’s who.  His taste in women was utterly democratic; he would indiscriminately switch from a whore in the afternoon to a glitterati or society lady for dinner.  His female conquests were usually married, and he doggedly rejected formal commitment by blaming his daredevil photojournalistic lifestyle.  However, in 1939, to become an American citizen, Capa married a New York City woman in a quickie ceremony, a green card marriage before green cards emerged.  His most spectacular catch was movie star Ingrid Bergman.  Their under-the-radar romance was not missed by Hitchcock, his film Rear Window with Grace Kelly and James Stewart was partly based on the affair.  Actress and inventor Hedy Lamarr and Vivien Leigh complete his outstanding movie star list.  In Paris, he bedded aristo-courtesan Pamela Churchill, and may have had a fling with luminaries such as writer Simone de Beauvoir and journalist Martha Gellhorn (Ernest Hemingway’s much scorned third wife).

In the early 1950s, having run out of wars, with limited business opportunities and persecuted by the FBI for his alleged Communist sympathies, Capa had a mid-life crisis.  This blogger believes that Capa had lost his mojo, and could no longer keep up appearances.  His peacetime photos are by and large, uninspiring, they reflect his directionless life.  His gambling was obsessive and he routinely lost large amounts of money in casinos or playing poker with his friends.  Actor Humphrey Bogart and movie director John Huston were superior poker players, they routinely took him to the cleaners.  He kept losing and his life became hand-to-mouth.  Capa was in a funk.  He couldn’t compete with the intellectual superiority and fame of his talented friends, such as Irwin Shaw, John Steinbeck and Ernest Hemingway.  Capa may have felt despondent.

Indochina looked like a lifesaver, he would be back in his element, une fuite en avant, a rush forward to play for time to reinvent himself.   But fate caught up with him.  On May 25, 1954, clutching his camera he was blown up by a landmine, his mangled body in a pool of blood.  He died like he lived, as if there were no tomorrow.  Robert Capa’s legend lives on, probably because his life was cut short.  His charisma continues to fascinate the public, and his photographs attract people who have little knowledge of the period he lived in.  Behind the photos, one sees a rogue, daredevil and passionate man.  If he had lived, he might have died of lung cancer: all these cigarettes dangling from his lips.  To die in one’s sleep is an ignominy for a war correspondent.










[1] A magnum is a 1.5 liter bottle of champagne.
[2] Capa in Color.
[3] Robert Capa published his autobiography in 1947: Slightly Out of Focus.
[4] Capa means shark in Hungarian.  In his life, Capa lived up to his assumed name.
[5] She became the first woman photojournalist to die in a war.

Comments

  1. Posted on behalf of L.C. :Loved the blog!  Captured Capa in all his morally ambiguous glory!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Posted on behalf of a friend who doesn't have a google account: "J'ai tjrs admiré Capa. Il y a eu il y qqs temps un gros article sur lui dans Jours de France. Je préfère le tien." PH.D.

    ReplyDelete

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