Beyond Narrative Function: Costume, Visual Pleasure, and a Cinema of Attractions

Jane Gaines’s article, “Costume and Narrative” discusses how costume and narrative intersect, studying how costuming decisions are informed by decisions concerning narrative construction and character coherence particularly in the studio era. For Gaines, codes of naturalism in the Victorian age emphasized the notion of character interiority (as opposed to pantomimic expressivity) which could be rendered visible on the exterior through clothing (Gaines, 186). Gaines sees this as a tradition which continued from silent to sound film – where “discourse on costume remained centered on character coherence” (Gaines, 188). In service of character cohesion and narrative integrity, costume was subordinated to narrative designs “much like orchestral underscoring for Hollywood melodrama which was so carefully matched with emotional connotations that it was heard but not noticed” (Gaines, 195). Costume in Classical Hollywood, according to Gaines was so subservient to the function of the film as narrative, that costumes and their details were sometimes edited out of the final cut altogether.

Gaines, argument (which I read before coming to Berry’s) did not sit easy with me. I found Gaines approach, claiming that costume was in service of narrative, debilitating in that it did not legitimate my own viewing pleasures in costume. One need only think of our assigned screening this week Gone With The Wind to see instances where the display of costume provided for visual and almost tactile pleasure beyond the function of conveying narrative information. For instance, the camera hangs long enough on Scarlett’s green ribboned bonnet for us to marvel over its beautiful folds or lingers on a long shot so we might take in the glory of her frothy green and white “barbeque” dress. These lingering shots do little for narrative function where a quick edit would otherwise suffice to illustrate, for instance, young Scarlett’s wealthy background or her flirtatious nature. These edits, rather, stretch out a moment such that it goes beyond conveying narrative/character information and function instead as a conveyance of visual pleasure.

Such an observation might recall Mulvey’s theory of the female image as a visual spectacle which suspends or disrupts the narrative. But, I believe there is a lot more going on in such scenes than just male scopophilic pleasure. Rather, these lingering edits become the space where multiple and gendered pleasures might occur simultaneously – an issue which Sarah Berry takes up in her study of costume and female fandom broaching the notion of how costume spoke to specifically female modes of viewing pleasures.

Sarah Berry’s chapter discusses how costume was in fact central to the historical costume drama which later became known as a woman’s drama. Using the example of Scarlet O’Hara’s barbeque dress, costume for Berry became the selling point of films where the costumes, more often than story, became their distinguishing feature. She discusses how costume operated extra-textually as a space for female fandom, leading to a symbiotic relationship between Hollywood and fashion. I found Berry’s section far more enabling because it accounted for a more independent space where pleasure, specifically feminine pleasure, might be obtained from the moving picture in spite of narratives which often punish or sideline female agency or desire. I enjoyed Blonde Venus for instance because I could relish in Dietrich’s costumes even though her character was being punished for her adultery and then subdued within a charmless marriage – a story which I could not for the life of me empathise with.

On a final note, watching Edison’s 1895 one reel Anabelle Serpentine Dance brings to mind the function of costume as a cinematic attraction in early cinema. In these early Edison dance films, a single girl is featured dancing on stage with swirling skirts. Her hypnotically twirling dress was hand-tinted with a shifting palette of colours. It proved so popular that Anabelle was filmed dancing again by W.K.L Dickson and for Pathe. To use Gunning’s seminal concept, costume functioned in these early examples as pure attraction before the star system and the consolidation of film as a narrative medium. This example from early cinema might lend some credence to the notion that costume, its textures, its flow and movement, offers visual pleasure in and of itself.



Here's a link to Edison's Annabelle Serpentine Dance: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sNXNfcEo5dQ

And W.K.L. Dickson's Annabelle Dances and Dances: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=unfh-_BiIrs