Costume Politics
Today I welcomed another artist into the Lear fold (or ensnared them in the Lear web?): Melissa Cuerrier, a graduate of the BFA Design programme whose work I have followed for some time. Melissa brings not only practical experience, but also a sharp, almost intuitive understanding of the thematic functions which costumes can play in a show -- and which they must play, in a text that features lines like, "Through tattered robes small vices may appear."
Our preliminary conversation moved quickly past the basics and into the political potential of the costumes in the Lear world. I mean political quite literally, here. As I have observed, Lear intertwines issues of family, politics, and metaphysics throughout. Now, thanks to Melissa's comments, I can see that the clothes which characters choose to wear can help to tell the story of political collapse, leaving the actors free to concentrate on family matters (and the director free to fret about philosophy).
Here's a tangible example. Melissa says that, when a monarch dies (or steps down, in this case), the fashions of a country almost immediately change. If they were conservative, they become ostentatious; if they were extravagant, they get simple. Either way, the costumes in Act 1, Scene 1--when Lear is still in power--should reflect one world, and the costumes in later scenes (as early as Act 1, Scene 3, when we first meet Oswald) should reflect another world--one which has no place for Lear. Indeed, the costumes should be offensive to Lear, and represent a large part of his discomfort.
Another good example: in times of war (says Melissa), fashions become lighter, more portable, more practical. Makes sense. That means that, in the first half of the play, when there are no overt signs of violence, fashions can afford to be more cumbersome. Then, gradually, those layers get stripped away--quite literally, in the case of Lear or Edgar. Maybe those discarded strips actually litter the stage, reminding the audience of what the characters use to have. This "de-layering" reflects a major theme in the play: that clothes equals status, and status is an illusion, a construction. By the end of the play, all men (and women) are the same: vulnerable, mortal, flawed. Exposed.
This does not mean that the cast will finish the play au naturel--although that would certainly lend a saucy new meaning to Lear's harrowing line:
Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones!
Our preliminary conversation moved quickly past the basics and into the political potential of the costumes in the Lear world. I mean political quite literally, here. As I have observed, Lear intertwines issues of family, politics, and metaphysics throughout. Now, thanks to Melissa's comments, I can see that the clothes which characters choose to wear can help to tell the story of political collapse, leaving the actors free to concentrate on family matters (and the director free to fret about philosophy).
Here's a tangible example. Melissa says that, when a monarch dies (or steps down, in this case), the fashions of a country almost immediately change. If they were conservative, they become ostentatious; if they were extravagant, they get simple. Either way, the costumes in Act 1, Scene 1--when Lear is still in power--should reflect one world, and the costumes in later scenes (as early as Act 1, Scene 3, when we first meet Oswald) should reflect another world--one which has no place for Lear. Indeed, the costumes should be offensive to Lear, and represent a large part of his discomfort.
Another good example: in times of war (says Melissa), fashions become lighter, more portable, more practical. Makes sense. That means that, in the first half of the play, when there are no overt signs of violence, fashions can afford to be more cumbersome. Then, gradually, those layers get stripped away--quite literally, in the case of Lear or Edgar. Maybe those discarded strips actually litter the stage, reminding the audience of what the characters use to have. This "de-layering" reflects a major theme in the play: that clothes equals status, and status is an illusion, a construction. By the end of the play, all men (and women) are the same: vulnerable, mortal, flawed. Exposed.
This does not mean that the cast will finish the play au naturel--although that would certainly lend a saucy new meaning to Lear's harrowing line:
Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones!
posted by Scott Sharplin at 9:53 p.m.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home