Near the start of the new documentary “High & Low: John Galliano,” the eponymous designer describes as “disgusting” and “horrific” the 2010 moment when he professed his love of Hitler and made other antisemitic remarks. The film, though, isn’t so much a mea culpa as it is a standard tale of struggle, success, hubris, dependence, and disgrace, with a few psychological appliqués stuck on for sympathy. 

Through archival footage and contemporary commentary, the doc tells Mr. Galliano’s story fluidly and persuasively. Yet it also can’t quite escape the inference that it was developed not so much as a reckoning of his ignominious statements and behavior but to rehabilitate his image.

After a quick reminder of his career and infamy, the viewer is thrust into the London of the early 1980s. Mr. Galliano’s education at the renowned art school St. Martins College and flowering talent for fashion and outrageousness are shown to coincide with the New Romantic era in music and youth culture. The designer mentions how Abel Gance’s silent film classic “Napoléon” became one of his greatest influences, one that is referenced throughout the documentary via clips. 

We’re also given insight into Mr. Galliano’s first collection, titled Les Incroyables (The Incredibles), in which he drew inspiration from an obscure Afghan king who forced his subjects to wear European dress. The success of that first collection propels him to create more collections and produce additional fashion shows displaying theatrical extravagance and punk tendencies. These cement his exuberant reputation for beauty crossed with blasphemy, with Mr. Galliano winning the British Designer of the Year award in 1987, the first of several times. 

It’s at this point the documentary goes back to the designer’s childhood, when he was known as Juan Carlos. After being born at Gibraltar, 6-year-old Juan is then transplanted by his Spanish mother and Italian father to South London. A harrowing account of a beating inflicted by his father after he expressed admiration of a man’s beauty provides a glimpse into the difficulties Mr. Galliano faced as a homosexual growing up in a strict Catholic family during a more repressive time. 

Then it’s back to the late ’80s, and John has hightailed it to Paris after his London financial backing falls through. While his shows continue to garner industry acclaim and press exposure, these corollaries don’t exactly translate into profitability. After a season without any Galliano collection, it takes two leading lights from the American edition of Vogue, André Leon Talley and Anna Wintour, to help him realize what many consider to be one of the best fashion shows of all time: his Autumn/Winter 1994/1995 collection.

Using all-too-brief clips from before, during, and after the show, director Kevin Macdonald certainly makes one wish one had been at the famed show. Observations by the designer, model Naomi Campbell, fashion journalist Suzy Menkes, and others describe the madness behind the scenes and the genius of the outfits that came not down a runway but through rooms of a regal, empty hotel residence. 

It’s the resounding success of this show that leads to Mr. Galliano being assigned as creative head of French brand Givenchy and then quickly elevated to artistic director of luxury house Dior.

The litany of looks in the documentary attests to Mr. Galliano’s inexhaustible creativity when faced with the daunting task of devising 32 different collections a year for Dior and his own brand. From couture to ready-to-wear, handbags to shoes, the designer was able to synthesize historical references, sensuality, irreverence, and glamor into every product line he touched. 

Yet, as we witness, his awe-inspiring attention to detail and authoritative control also brought huge amounts of stress and egotism. As one pundit suggests, “How can you be so creative all the time and stay sane?”

Of course, the answer to that rhetorical question is: “You can’t.” His longtime assistant/creative colleague, Steven Robinson, dies of an apparent drug overdose in 2007. A few years later, a fellow British designer and friend, Alexander McQueen, commits suicide. It becomes clear that these tragedies affect Mr. Galliano adversely, increasing his pomposity, mean-spirited behavior, pill-popping, and alcoholism. And then the 2010 incident occurs, captured on camera at a Paris restaurant. 

The documentary’s last half hour concerns itself with forgiveness, yet it indulges in such simplistic justifications of his actions — his father was rough, and therefore adult John lashed out at times — that one starts to question whether the filmmakers are objective observers. Matters aren’t helped by the inclusion of present-day scenes in which the couturier idles pensively in nature, emphasizing his isolation and social banishment.

Instead of moments like these, Mr. Macdonald could have provided some context on the history of antisemitism in France, delved into what a rabbi taught John about the Holocaust, and explored the reasoning behind his current employer’s decision to hire him.   

The cultural appropriation in some of Mr. Galliano’s fashions gets a cursory mention, and yet the issue resonates much more than the film’s easy psychology. From his derided “Hobo” collection in 2000 to his donning of chasidic-chic clothing (in New York, no less) just a few years after his fall from grace, the designer has always dipped into cultures or groups and taken those elements he considers usable for garments or ensembles. 

Mr. Galliano may intend it as an honest homage, but the amalgamation can come off as mockery, bringing to mind what a heavily accented French commentator says at one point: that John only sees the surface of things. To which one might reply, “Mais bien sûr, c’est la mode.”