The Sartorial Politics of an Oscar Campaign
Margot Robbie has been wearing pink for the past two years.
For the Barbie press tour, the actress and her stylist Andrew Mukamal commissioned designers from Vivienne Westwood, Schiaparelli, Prada and Armani to create bespoke recreations of the doll’s signature looks. They also pulled archival looks from top fashion houses, such as Chanel and Versace, all in an effort to bring the world of the billion-dollar grossing film to life. The excitement round the film and its fashion has led the duo immortalise to this press tour in the form of a coffee table book, Barbie: The World Tour, to be released March 19th.
Fashion is an incredible device for communication and the sartorial synergy between the film and the red-carpet looks is deliberate attempt by the filmmakers to keep the movie, which opened in cinemas last summer, top of mind. Not our minds, despite social media virality, but the minds of entertainment industry insiders who will determine the movie’s fate tomorrow night at the Academy Awards ceremony. The Barbie press tour, through its numerous fashion, beauty, architecture and food (???) collaborations, is communicating its desperate plea for an Oscar.
An Oscar nomination acknowledges the craft of acting, the countless hours, performers have had to prepare in order to entertain us, the viewer. A second, often more difficult, performance, happens on the campaign trail (yes, like a presidential campaign), where the actor has to endure gruelling press interviews, screenings with Oscar voters, wear lavish gowns, place ads on the popular radio shows and land coveted magazine covers. If done right, all that labour culminates to: “Oh my gosh, this is so unexpected. All the people in my category are much better performers. I’d like to thank …”
All good Oscar campaigns, like political campaigns, have the same three elements: a compelling narrative, a story that makes the film about more than 120 minutes spent in a dark cinema, but a movement; authenticity, a sense that the actor has done the work to prepare themselves for the role and understands the gravity of their portrayal, even if it is playing a piece of plastic; and lastly groundwork, the team has to get the word out, talk to voters, canvass, schmooze and gain support.
Fashion has become part and parcel to Oscar campaigning. An actor can’t just wear a simple floor-length gown, despite the dress code being black tie. The clothes are another opportunity for the filmmakers and campaign strategists to communicate their messaging. Method dressing, a term coined by fashion journalist Sarah Spellings, is when a film’s cinematic universe is projected sartorially on the campaign trail. For example, Zendaya and her stylist Law Roach have been doing this for years, more recently for the Dune Part Two (great movie, go see it) press tour where the actress sported a chrome suit of armour from Mugler’s Autumn/Winter 1995 ‘Cirque d’hiver’ 20th-anniversary collection archive. Other recent examples include Halle Bailey for The Little Mermaid, Jenna Ortega for Wednesday and Timothée Chalamet for Wonka.
The press tour is highly orchestrated and the red-carpet is an opportunity for the film and its stars to go viral, for cinemas to fill seats, and for movies to gain more gold leaves on their promotional “For your consideration” ads.
Law Roach and Zendaya at the Dune: Part Two premiere in London. (Jeff Spicer/Getty Images)
Michael Schulman, author of Oscar Wars: A History of Hollywood in Gold, Sweat, and Tears, says that even when actors are on message and have left no hand un-shaken and no baby un-kissed, it could still leave the impression that one is doing it all wrong.
Enter Bradley Cooper. The actor has been accused of wanting an Oscar too much. Did he really have to don a prosthetic nose to play legendary Jewish composer Leonard Bernstein? Did he have to learn how to conduct for six years? Did he have to write, produce, direct and act in this film? Cooper’s earnest Oscar campaign for Maestro has reporters, industry leaders and viewers accusing him of being a try-hard. EvenVulture critic Nate Jones said Maestro has become an Oscar villain — a film you root against — stating that Cooper has broken the cardinal rule of campaigning: “Show you want it, but don’t be desperate.”
Bradley Cooper as Leonard Bernstein in Maestro. (Jason McDonald/Netflix)
So why can’t films be nominated based on their merit? Why do actors have to go on months-long press tours and convince us all that their movie truly is the Best Picture? Why do they want it so much? Does it yield any benefit? While these are valid questions, they bring up a a larger, more philosophical question of what counts as good art.
If art is subjective, then there is no such thing as the Best Picture. So why do we, the audience, and filmmakers bother with the Oscars? Well, Oscars have the opportunity to shine a light on smaller, low-budget films and expose them to a new audience. They also have the power to catapult young and diverse talent to new heights. Oscars expose us to more art and as viewers we’re inclined to root for art we like and often take it personally when a film we enjoyed is not recognised as if the snub is an attack on our tastes. Emphasis on taste — it’s just your preference.
As to why actors want to be seen as the best? Schulman refers to the answer he was given by Hollywood executive Terry Press in his book Oscar Wars: “Ego and bragging rights. It's a town built on a rock-solid foundation of insecurity."
It didn't always use to be this way. The modern-day Oscar campaign began with Harvey Weinstein, yes the rapist, who ran an aggressive awards campaign for Shakespeare in Love. Outspending all other contenders for Best Picture in the hopes of winning against Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan. While no one paid attention at first, the relentless calls to Oscar voters, special screenings for Academy members and endless parties to schmooze eventually yielded a victory.
Gwyneth Paltrow wins Best Actress for Shakespeare in Love at the Oscars in 1999. (Timothy A. Clary)
The stage had been set. Since then, Oscar campaigns have been big business. Campaign consultants can earn up $25,000 per month in retainer fees, excluding hefty bonuses for securing a nomination, and even more for securing a win. More can be spent on the campaign trail alone than was spent producing the film.
While method dressing was once seen as fun nod to a movie’s internal universe, the act is slowly becoming ubiquitous. Fans now expect actors to dress up as versions of their on-screen characters, especially at high profile events like the Academy Awards. This is the first nail in the coffin that is red-carpet dressing. When deciding what to don becomes wrapped up in the politics of an Oscar campaign, the fashion suffers. It can feel costume-y, at best, and at worst, boring and expected.
My hope for tomorrow’s red-carpet is that designers, stylists and actors alike follow the cardinal rule of campaigning: Show you want it, but don’t be desperate.
