Costume Design in Four Productions of Othello

Introduction: The Costume Challenges of Othello

Designing costumes for Othello—in whatever form, whether play, ballet, or opera—presents several problems from the outset. First, of course, is the necessity for the costume to enhance the feeling of paranoia of Othello, a Moor in a Caucasian society. Second, Iago needs to appear malevolent without being evil personified; he is, perhaps, simply overly worldly and overly ambitious, as is his wife, Emilia. Third, Desdemona has to be understandable in the context of her own time and of ours. While it may have been customary then for a woman to trust even when reason would counsel otherwise, it is not so today.

A look at historical accuracy is necessary to assess whether costumes do their job properly in four very different productions of Othello/Otello: the San Francisco Ballet's production with music by Elliott Goldenthal; the English National Opera production conducted by Mark Elder; the 1943 Shubert Theater (New York City) production with Paul Robeson; and the 1997–1998 production of Othello by the Shakespeare Theatre with Patrick Stewart as Othello.

The modern costume designer's task was made more difficult by some of the technological and commercial developments of the sixteenth century. Among those was increased trade, a factor that contributed to the plausibility of a Moor in the setting Shakespeare created for the character. It also meant that characters would have belonged to the class that adopted rich fabrics, jewels (especially pearls), and laces available all over Europe and extremely popular at the time. "Lace ruffles, collars, cuffs, and edgings on caps which replaced the large headdresses of the preceding period were exceedingly popular" (Grimball, 88).

Period Dress and Shakespeare's Era

In women's clothing, bodices were no longer simply form-fitting but were made rigid with stays and long stomachers extending below the waist to create the dipped waistline, even if the wearer's figure did not naturally accommodate it. In costuming the look, it is vital to render the pinched waist and bouffant hips correctly, as well as conveying a "steel-like stiffness." Floor-length full skirts were often held away from the body with hoops (Grimball, 88).

Men's clothing was also made of very rich materials, with trousers full and knee-length, sometimes with insets. Coats came to the knees and had full sleeves, also often with insets. Coats were worn over a doublet secured with a narrow belt. Shirts had narrow ruffles around the neck, and men often wore jewelry in the form of pendants, gold chains, gold rings, and gold buttons (Grimball, 88).

In the latter part of the century, trousers became shorter—little more than trunks stuffed to stand out full, but still with insets, usually of a different color. With pants so short, tights had to be worn. Coats shrank down to tight-fitting jackets with tight sleeves. Ruffles of linen were still worn at the collar, and a new fashion element was the short cape, often flung over only one shoulder. Hats were smaller than before but still bore plumes and fancy trimmings. Hair for both sexes was relatively simply arranged, often adorned with jewels; women also wore caps of linen or lace with a peak over the forehead (Grimball, 88).

Fabrics, as noted, were rich, with silk and silk velvet paramount. After all, the merchants of Venice were responsible for trade in silk, situated as the city was on the East–West silk route from the Orient. Colors used in the period can be derived from surviving paintings; a survey reveals that deep hues of russet and mahogany, deep blue (affordable only to the wealthy), scarlet, vermilion, brown, and black were prevalent.

Knowledge of these fashions is widespread, thanks to the paintings of Holbein and Dürer, and a costume designer who ignores these conventions will almost certainly be found out by an informed audience. And yet, of course, costumes must also work for the action and the performers.

This should be relatively straightforward for the designer of a theatrical production. When Othello becomes an opera, however, there are other historical necessities to consider. Opera was created for the entertainment of aristocrats; recall that there had been "groundlings" at theatres for the populace in Shakespeare's England. In opera, women would perform in beautiful gowns lavishly decorated with the feathers and gems beloved of the Renaissance. They also used flowers, leaves, shells, and appliqués to represent character. Fashion on opera stages followed the then-current fashion silhouettes; this practice is not ordinarily observed today, which instead tends to follow the silhouettes in vogue when opera was born, or possibly some historic period in between.

Historically, opera costume designers took their color palette from the painters Fragonard, Boucher, Watteau, and Lancret, which meant the prevalent colors were pastels—gray, citron, pistachio, and peach—although the coppery brown-maroon-purple palette of Tiepolo was also used.

In theatre and opera, words and realistic action help define character and place; this is not the case in ballet. Here, costumes have even greater work to do and face greater physical demands. As one writer observed, "Costumes help define character and establish setting. PureMovement's Rome and Jewels may not have an onstage ingénue, but there's no doubt that it's an in-your-face street version in combat boots that takes place at a very different time and place than Shakespeare's portrait of an Italian city-state or New York City's 1950s West Side" (Patrick, 2001).

Ballet Principles and Costume Demands

As ballet became more athletic, long full skirts that showed only an elegant ankle became less practical. Fortunately, "the advent of machine-knitted jerseys and, later, synthetic stretch fabrics allowed modern dancers to emphasize line and shape with costume, and floor work became another acceptable level of movement" (Patrick, 2001). This trend toward athleticism and the availability of highly stretchable fabrics had suddenly to be reconciled by the costume designer with historical necessities.

At first glance, these form-fitting costumes are not very historically accurate, and even a Moor would not have gone around barelegged as this Othello does. The colors appear somewhat over-the-top at first glance. But then the other realities of ballet begin to make their needs felt. Ballet has no words; color must do the bulk of the work, especially as the silhouette cannot—given the athleticism of modern choreography—be historically precise. While costume details are important, they are clearly visible only to the first dozen rows or so, and must therefore be both extravagant enough to make an impact and secure enough not to be torn loose. The production achieves a wonderful blending of necessity with historical accuracy, to a point, and of narrative demands.

San Francisco Ballet's Othello

For example, Desdemona appears to be jewel-bedecked. In fact, only her headdress is set with pearls. The appearance of jewels on her skirt is created by appliquéd gold cloth cut into jewelry patterns. As for silhouette, a formal tulle long ballet skirt might have been more period-appropriate; as it is, however, the drape of the form-fitting skirt suggests the historic skirt's shape through its slight peplum.

Othello's costuming is equally true to the spirit of the times. His purple tunic is clearly a soldier's garment, except that the bandolier is sewn on and the epaulets are not freestanding but integrated into the costume. The fringes are faux leather with attached beading, and ribbon shot with gold is used for other details to suggest jewels and wealth.

As proof that the design worked for audiences, Jean Battey Lewis, writing for The Washington Times, noted that "in contrast to the late-20th-century aesthetic of design and music (the ballet was premiered by the San Francisco Ballet in 1998), the costumes are thoroughly and splendidly traditional, especially the handsome ones for the principals" (2003).

A more critical dance writer was equally pleased. Dance Magazine's Valerie Gladstone wrote:

To complement the concept of transparency, designer Ann Hould-Ward's wedding costumes will be made of chiffon, worn over unitards of burnt orange, salmon pink, light blue, and burnt gold. The islanders of Cyprus will wear natural fabrics in a mesh weave that suggests fishing nets. Fiery silk scarves will be worn during the tarantella that represents Othello's growing rage. Purplish blues dominate the final scenes. (1997)

Gladstone also quoted the designer as saying, "The bruised quality of Francis Bacon's paintings inspired me."

Conclusion

There are several ways costuming can be successful, even if it does not strictly adhere to historical accuracy, as long as it suggests it—as well as characterization—while meeting the demands of the art form, as in ballet. On that score, the least successful set of costumes examined here would appear to be those for the English National Opera's production. They are lifeless and pay only lip service to historical accuracy when they could have done so much more.