Oscar Volleys: “Wicked” is the one to beat in Best Costume Design
Thursday, February 13, 2025 at 8:00PM The Oscar Volleys are back for some post-nomination talks. Tonight, Cláudio Alves and Nick Taylor discuss Best Costume Design...
WICKED | © Universal Pictures
CLÁUDIO: Let me repeat an exercise of Oscar volleys past and dream up an outfit that combines the year's Best Costume Design nominees - Melissa McCarthy and Brian Tyree Henry style. You can picture me in ecclesiastical garb like the blasphemous queen I am, adorned with Denzel Washington's bling from Gladiator II. Over my shoulders, there's Count Orlok's furry robe - after a thorough dry cleaning - and Bob Dylan's stylish 60s shades hide my eyes from mere mortals. And then, I'll pull up those Catholic skirts and reveal the Fiyero boots because Jonathan Bailey can't have all the fun. He's free to try to come and get them back. Please do, Johnny!
What about you, dear Nick? What's your outfit like?
NICK: That’s a ravishing question. We start with Elphaba’s iconic black hat. Sewn into Tazewell’s architectural embellishments would be various prizes from my victories in the gladiator ring like arrowheads and human bones, or maybe the gold-leaf crown would be the rim of the hat. We gotta wear one of Joan Baez’s floral-patterned dresses - the deep blue number might be fun, and I bet she was wearing some really comfy shoes. For Conclave, keep it simple and classy with Sister Agnes’ cross, maybe have some robes in the back in case it’s cold. I’m struggling what to do for Nosferatu, because I also want Orlok’s coat, and because so many of Ellen’s outfits don’t really make sense on top of what I’ve already selected. Maybe I’ll weave her sad lilies into my hair? The vibe is very “Pagan Sarah Carpenter”, but I’m for it…
To start the conversation on the funniest note possible, let me share an exchange we had earlier for the readers. Before we started this conversation, I was trying to recall all of this year’s costume design nominees, who was I rooting for, what did I still need to see. And the one I remembered last was Wicked, which is probably going to win the whole thing. I really like Paul Tazewell’s costumes, but since you’re the resident costume designer, I want to hear what your impression of the overall field before we get into the likely winner.
GLADIATOR II | © Paramount Pictures
CLÁUDIO: It's a bit of a boring field, right? At least when one considers what could have sneaked in if the Costume Branch felt more adventurous. I mean, I'm grateful we still got one lone nominee, but did it have to be Gladiator II? I really thought Beetlejuice Beetlejuice had a chance, even if I'm not its biggest fan. And, if Queer couldn't make it in Best Actor, this race would have been such a lovely place to see it recognized. Oh well, we'll talk about our "snubbed" favorites later in our convo.
For now, you asked about the quintet we got, and I admit I have quibbles with most of them. That doesn't mean this is an undeserving bunch, of course. I've talked over some of my issues with the Wicked costumes with Nathaniel already, but it mostly comes down to a lot of visual noise that doesn't always cohere and mostly fails at guiding the way. I've been a fan of Tazewell for a long time and have thought his transition from stage to screen was as smooth as they come until Wicked, where he shows a lot of vices and stylistic quirks that make more sense on Broadway than in front of the camera. He's also suffering from the same virus of tastelessness that seems to have taken over the fabric districts of our most prominent entertainment capitals. In my head, I dub it the "Bridgerton effect," but it probably predates that Netflix eyesore.
Please, costume designers of the world with millionaire budgets, look away from the loudest textures and machine-made effects, away from the cacophony, and try to exercise some restraint. Gladiator II is similarly beset by awkward textile combinations and a bunch of costumes that look ugly on screen because of it. So many of Connie Nielsen's ensembles suffer from this, and not even Denzel Washington is unaffected. Satin that's been pin-tucked into a grid-like pattern over a bunch of synthetic abstract woven prints looks far from Roman splendor and closer to those displays you sometimes see on the windows of fabric stores, piling up expensive materials on top of a poor mannequin with no rhyme or reason.
I guess that's part of why I feel so drawn to the costuming of Conclave and Nosferatu. They feel disciplined in their intent, right down to the materials chosen. But I know you feel a tad skeptical over Lisy Christl's nomination.
CONCLAVE | © Focus Features
NICK: My skepticism with Conclave’s nomination is more about some very boring Best Picture genuflecting across the craft categories. There’s certainly purpose behind the papal regalia - everyone looks good, the colors and lines of the outfits are visually appealing. Her interviews about the incredibly minute details behind her work - which periods she pulled from for the color of the robes, what the crosses represent, how to elucidate politics and personality from the most glorified uniforms in human history - they’re all thoughtful and engaging without ever convincing me this is a nomination-worthy achievement. I have nothing against it. Everyone looks good in them. But I’m mostly frustrated by how few films Oscar remembered when putting its lineups together, and how the one "adventurous" choice with Gladiator II is so disappointing. What hold does Janty Yates have on her colleagues to get nominated two years in a row for these expensive dramas that barely retain a claim on the culture? If we had to have so many Best Picture nominees, why not Jacqueline West's culturally expansive wardrobe for Dune: Part Two, or Emmanuelle Youochnowski's mix of chic and tacky celebrity of The Substance?
Those two would also make sense given the costume designer's recent predilection for rewarding feats of fantasy/sci-fi costuming. It's not new exactly, but since Mad Max: Fury Road won this award in 2015 this genre has predominantly held court here. Which makes Wicked a very easy, trendy winner, but I'm largely a fan of Tazewell's designs. You're right about there being Too Much in several places, to an almost gratuitous degree. Elphaba's hat never makes sense to me, and I hope she gets a more streamlined, classical witch's hat to symbolize her new autonomy and flatter her sick black-on-black fits. The self-conscious snake-oil salesmanship of The Wizard and the superficiality of Oz writ large is a great alibi for gaudy, impractical outfits that would fall apart against any intelligent scrutiny. An eye-rolling alibi, but it's also a good excuse for me the viewer to enjoy the costumes. Glinda's mountains of pink render her equal parts society dame and exotic bird, especially the giant sleeves/train/whatever she flings around while cartwheeling down the hall at the end of "Popular." Much like Wicked: Part One itself, I see plenty of nits to pick but I'm entertained enough to go along for the ride and enjoy the broad strokes.
Still, if I had a ballot my pick would likely be Linda Muir's Nosferatu costumes. We've talked about my ambivalence towards Nosferatu plenty already, but I thought the mix of realistic period wares and folkloric terrors were among the film's best assets. You may covet the Count's giant coat and hat, but I'm even more entranced by the blue dress Ellen wears when she receives the lilies from her husband, and her gorgeous wedding dress. What a way to go. Am I crazy to think it might be contending for the win? Also, I have to ask, what do you think of Emma Corrin's gold dress?
NOSFERATU | © Focus Features
CLÁUDIO: So, despite what some folks have said in online costuming circles, there's very little stylization in Nosferatu. Linda Muir kept her designs specific to the 1830s with a particular emphasis on the transitional period typified by 1838 fashions when the decade's characteristic excess started to give way to a less exuberant mid-19th-century look. Robert Eggers' penchant for an anti-presentist aesthetic leads to films ruled by material realism and a team that works according to that guideline. That means even Orlok's fantastical evil is grounded in historicism. We can track his connection to Romanian aristocracy and the military of centuries past in his garb, giving his menace a tangible feel that far surpasses the abstract wrongness we get from the text, the performance, the framing. There's a lot of character work there, don't get me wrong.
I loved how real Thomas' economic anxieties felt through the disparities between the Hutters and the Hardings, their friends. There's this insistent idea that, in marriage, Ellen stepped down from a place of uttermost privilege toward something closer to the middle class. Still, her clothes are all out of 1838 fashion plates. Not as opulent but not wholly disconnected from Anna Harding's attire. However, Thomas wears simple styles that could be a decade old when directly compared to what Muir put on Aaron Taylor-Johnson. So many clever details, such clearly defined yet unassuming storytelling choices expressed through design. Take Ellen's penchant for florals, how it keeps bringing us back to the idea of funeral rites, the blossoms the professor lays on her dead body at the end. Or how the woven motifs of her early costumes are all cut to match and be symmetrical. But the striped outfit she wears upon Thomas' return is mismatched on the back, stripes out of sorts, a reflection of the woman's slipping control over her mind, her body, her spiritual self. It's fantastic stuff, incredibly deliberate and disciplined.
So then, why does Emma Corrin wear that cold-shoulder monstrosity for her first scene? That bodice and shoulder treatment, with floating sleeves, is not historical, nor does it seem coherent with the rest of Anna's wardrobe. It's such a bizarre needle scratch, one that must have been done on purpose. Yet I can't surmise what that purpose was. I guess it keeps true to 1830s fashion ethos in that it is proportionally weird and ugly as fuck. Oh well, nobody's perfect. Muir would still get my vote out of this sorry lot. But she's not among the achievements I'd have nominated in my ideal ballot. None of these films are.
NICK: Sometimes being period authentic means including a weird-ass misstep definable only by era-specific bad taste. Like how JLo got arrested in Hustlers wearing some Kevin Smith jorts. Remember that? Think about it. I bet she wears them again in Kiss of the Spider Woman.
I see your subtle yet pointed prod towards recommending some personal costume design favorites from this year.
OMEN | © Utopia
I like Wicked's witch wares, but I'm even more dazzled by the Congolese drama Omen, which features several ritual garments for contemporary witches and outlandish gangsters unlike anything I've ever seen. The other great sci-fi monster of the year is Tilda Swinton's monstrous boss in Problemista, and she gets outfits to match this status with her crazy-patterned sweaters and spiked shoulders. Everyone in that film gets the right balance of artsy-kooky-natty, but boy do they know their silliest challenges out of the park. Femme's use of clothing as performative spaces for its deceptive and self-deceiving leads is quite chic, and Nathan Stewart-Jarrett's drag persona feels much more specific than I'd expected.
If I can go back on my entire ethos for this piece thus far and name one more BP nominee here, I would have loved to see The Brutalist in this category. Excellent statement ties. As far as memorable looks in films that aren't otherwise costume design showcases, I just love the killer's getup in In a Violent Nature and Angela's multicolored, bedazzled top in Do Not Expect Too Much From the End of the World. And what about you, dear Cláudio? Who are you stanning?
CLÁUDIO: Like you, I'm a fan of the Oscar-ineligible costumes for Omen. When we get into the Team Experience Awards, it'll find its way into my ballot, no doubts about it. Indeed, because I want to spread the love and be a bit different, let me go beyond the Oscar system and think of more costume-specific honors. What would the CDG nominations look like in my perfect world?
FIREBRAND | © Roadside Attractions
Well, in Period Costume Design, Michael O'Connor's Tudor designs for Firebrand reign supreme. I'm a big fan of leaning on historical idiosyncrasies to the point of alienation, risking ridicule to better express the essential differences (but also the material similarities) between past and present. Also, on a nerdier note, it's got the best French hoods I've ever seen in any filmed media. Queer gets runner-up honors for J.W. Anderson's stylish nods to 1950s men's fashion. Then, in no particular order, the glamorous lewks Massimo Cantini Parrini devised for Angelina Jolie in Maria, Francine Jamison-Tanchuck's smart delineations of period and personal particularities in The Piano Lesson, and the decade-spanning nightclub epic of The Beast in the Jungle's costumes, designed by Claire Dubien.
In the realm of Fantasy and Sci-Fi, Milena Canonero gets top honors for the Roman future of Megalopolis. I also love Jacqueline West's continuing exploration of Denis Villeneuve and Frank Herbert's combined visions for the Dune franchise. C'mon, those weird little Harkonnian jesters alone would have warranted a nomination - shame on you, Academy! The remaining slots go to Jenny Beaven's prequel stylings in Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga, Frauke Firl's bold color stories for The End, and the cartoon-like madness with which Casey Harris outfitted Hundreds of Beavers.
Nobody seems to be talking about Babygirl anymore, but those were my favorite Contemporary costumes of the year. Kurt & Bart are underrated geniuses, skilled at using fashion to define power dynamics and matters of self-image, keeping Nicole Kidman in executive bondage that unravels in parallel with her personal affairs. The Substance's sartorial glory is self-evident, and we have already mentioned plenty about Baloji and Elke Hoste's Omen designs. My final honorees would include Bird, where Alex Bovaird did beautiful work, finding the magic in a social realist milieu before magical realism ever comes into play. And The Last Showgirl, too, since Jacqueline Getty's and Rainy Jacobs' costumes do more to extend dignity and artistry to the world it depicts than both text and performances combined.
BABYGIRL | © A24
How's that for an answer? Verbose and overlong, just as I like it. Is it time to talk about final predictions, or should we give a passing mention to Gladiator II and A Complete Unknown?
NICK: Marvelous. I’ll fess up to having seen neither movie yet. Or rather, I’ve seen Gladiator II if you count watching my cats beat the shit out of each other as cinema. Either way, I have nothing to say about those films and doubt their chances. I’m open to being wrong about Arianne Phillips, since she’s never won the Oscar, but I’m not expecting it. I’ll make my predictions short and sweet: Wicked will win, Nosferatu should win and could spoil if such a thing is possible, and if anyone else wins I’m gonna to summon my beaver army to cause shenanigans at the Academy Museum.
CLÁUDIO: For my final predictions, I'll offer a ranking of likelihood and some notes. (You know I love to write excessively. At this point, it's about branding.):
1) WICKED - the absolute frontrunner, no doubts about it.
2) NOSFERATU - if the Academy feels the musical is too frivolous, they might go for these creations, which, truth be told, fit into many of the molds this category has previously honored.
3) A COMPLETE UNKNOWN - if they really love the biopic, it's got a chance.
4) GLADIATOR II - we know, from Wakanda Forever and Fantastic Beasts, that they're not unwilling to honor sequels and franchise extensions and this has the flashiest "historical" fits of the season.
5) CONCLAVE - the only winner that would truly shock me silly.
And I guess that's it for our costume design convo. Thank you immensely for the costuming thoughts, the wit, the glamour.
A COMPLETE UNKNOWN | © Searchlight Pictures
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Reader Comments (1)
Ed Gonzalez at Slant said it best:
"But if you’ve seen even one over-lit minute of Jon M. Chu’s Wicked, it’s impossible to not have been floored by Paul Tazewell’s astonishingly elegant and expansive costuming, which pulls influence from so many different eras of fashion that the film at times recalls, well, a period film. Tazewll, a Tony and Emmy winner who was nominated before in this category for Steven Spielberg’s West Side Story, designed over 1000 costumes for Wicked, and the way they swing from the fabulously couture to the downright bananas, especially during crowd scenes, is the main reason to, well, watch more than one over-lit minute of the film."