Film Design: Cosmonaut Costume Test Polaroid

The Polaroid's blank space has nothing written on it, but it should read:

"Cosmonaut flight-suit costume test-fitting, Marty."

I designed this piece of wardrobe for my (unfinished) 35mm short film Hyper-Reality. Two cosmonaut costumes were built, fitted specially for the actors to play them. The above picture was taken in the film studio, here in Toronto, where we were to shoot a few weeks later.

Those readers who are familiar with the 1960 East German/Polish feature film Der Schweigende Stern — "The Silent Star", released as First Spaceship on Venus on this side of the pond — will recognize my flight-suit designs. I based them heavily on that flick's cosmonaut suits. The First Spaceship version I saw on the big screen in Germany when I was a kid: its visualizations and stylings projected at CFB Baden-Soellingen's Astra Theatre had a pretty profound affect on me, certainly when I later designed a film that was not far removed from its aesthetic inspiration.

Designing wardrobe is a lot of fun for me: from my initial noodles, to more detailed drawings, to hiring seamstresses to realize them, it's one of my favourite parts of film design. (For the flick in question, my partner, Tim, and I rummaged around all the wonderful shops in Toronto's Kensington Market. We found some terrific outfits in Value Village, too.)

I've long said that "film is architecture". If a script calls for original design work, it's something I attack with great enthusiasm. Considering that it's an independent short film, "Hyper-Reality: The Unfinished Motion Picture" is loaded with design work. A few years ago I joked with my brother: "If I can't design something and send it to the mill to be built, what's the point of making a film?"

It's time to get back to the drawing tablet.

Postscript: When I was in my late teens I asked my mother if she could teach me on how to use her Singer sewing machine. The funny thing is she didn't seem to be too taken aback with my request and wasted no time in proceeding to train me on the essential operations in a clear and easy to understand manner. However, while I can be pretty handy with a sewing machine and fabric shears— especially so given the fact that I'm a straight guy — I leave the actual building to seamstresses.