A richness of costumes

Bart says the motto of the Royal Shakespeare Company was -- and may still be, for all I know -- "Everything can change with the last good idea." Even the set can change, even the day before the show opens. That motto is a badge of tech pride -- and of shared high standards. It's a commitment to what's right for the world of the play.

One of the joys of working at the Intiman, especially on a flagship show for which they have budgeted and planned and saved -- is how they, too, can change at the last minute.

Especially costumes.

In my world of theatre, there is barely enough budget, usually one designer and maybe Ann's Mom Who Can Sew. In my world, once Emily has a dress, that's her dress.

With Bart and Caitlin Ward, his long-time costume designer, the look is as fluid as the blocking or lights. Emily, the girl character, appeared two days ago in a white dress; yesterday in a blue dress with her hair dyed orange-blonde; and today in a white blouse with blue skirt and her hair dyed a lighter blonde. Every change got a step better.

Two days ago, Bart looked at the costumed actors in the lights and said, "They look gorgeous, they look period, but they look too NEW -- can we distress the clothes a big, make them more daily and human and kind?" The next day, we had; and all the people looked more real.

At one point, the director, scenic designer, sound designer, and costume designer were huddled together discussing the Stage Manager's costume."It's a lovely green." "But I'm not getting the character of it -- it is an ordinary cut and ordinary material." "We could dye and steam it, distress it more." "The cut is okay with me; I'm not getting the story of it, though, how is this helping the story?" "The Stage Manager is an ancient character, he is Odysseus. He is not of the time of this piece. His costume needs to be related to, but not of their world. Right now he's in their world." Silence. "Yeah." A chorus of general agreement at having identified the problem, and they disperse, satisfied that the costume designer will be be able to solve it on her own. Which she did.

What I love about that is a) the educated level of that discussion, b) that all the disciplines were articulate, and c) that there are the resources to make the changes, even the day before previews.

At yesterday's final run-through, I sat in front of two women I didn't know. "We're over-hire," they said comfortably, "For costumes. I'm a dyer, she's a draper. We're on loan from Ashland's Oregon Shakespeare Festival. I've worked there 20 years."

Ashland has, for my money, the best costume shop & resources in the country. "Our costume staff is the second largest department, after the actors," said one of them with satisfaction. "At Ashland -- what you ask for, you get." "It spoils you, only working with the finest materials."

I once saw a Taming Of the Shrew at Ashland, where 6 men entered from hunting, each wearing a cloak of a different cut and fastening, each floor-length, each made entirely of leather.

If you go to Ashland, take the back-stage tour.

Our Town has 24 actors, each with at least two costume changes; so, we "over-hire."

Ahhh. Even at the big theatres, each has its own way of working. But this particular aspect, the changefulness and pride in being able to make those changes -- this is a shining part of the Intiman.

Gotta go, I teach Improv this morning.