Librari[d]an

You probably haven’t heard of the recent controversy spurred by the new Collector’s Edition of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. The color palette of the film has been drastically changed, darkness greatly increased, desaturated, etc. in comparison to earlier mass market releases. According to the motion picture archivist Robert Harris, this is because American Zoetrope has digitally matched the colors to those of the Francis Ford Coppola-approved answer print. According to fans it’s an unpardonable, deliberate revision of their favorite film incarnation of the Dracula story. I honestly don’t care about any of that… as long as consumers have a choice between the two.

My only lingering concern with the Collector’s Edition is that it has been accused of totally altering Eiko Ishioka’s Academy Award-winning costume designs. From very early on in Dracula’s pre-production, Coppola “decided that the costumes would be the set.” (Dworkin 17) When Eiko Ishioka realized “that the costumes would be the key factor in determining the quality of the film itself, I accepted the job.” (Dworkin 21) So that is what this post is actually about. Not the concern for color fidelity in film archiving, but those beautiful costumes - inspired by everything from the Symbolist movement to the Australian frilled lizard - that were conceived of and created by Ishioka. (Dworkin 19, 70)

One of the most memorable garments from the film is Dracula’s “red Oriental-Turkish robe”, which was created to “emphasize the androgynous quality in his character”, “a haunting aura of transsexuality.” (Dworkin 41) In the thematic color of red, Eiko had Dracula’s golden coat-of-arms embroidered on the breast.

This emblem is Dracula’s “identity, similar to the Japanese family crest. I designed a motif of various animals intertwined into a single form.” (Dworkin 42) These included a dragon, wolf, snakes, and birds, as well as fire. (Landau 37) The robe’s voluminous train was constructed to “undulate like a sea of blood.” (Dworkin 41) Not all of Dracula’s planned costumes made it into the film. Check out this sketch of a brocaded vest with red detailing/piping and handkerchief:

The designs for women are the cornerstone of Bram Stoker’s Dracula. And why is that? It’s because the original, decentralized story found in Stoker’s novel - told through every character’s point of view except Dracula’s - has been appropriated for Mina. Screenwriter Jim Hart felt that “The key to writing Dracula was to make it Mina’s story.” (Landau 80) Instead of a fragmented narrative, Mina gives it unity and continuity. While it may seem that Mina’s story is framed by Dracula’s historic prologue, the truth is in fact the opposite. Dracula lacks agency. He can merely react as Elisabeta kills herself, as Mina abandons him to marry Harker, as she makes the decision to become a vampire, as she exploits their psychic rapport to assist her friends, and finally as she delivers them both from the unholy covenant Dracula forged with “darkness”.

Throughout the film, Mina’s costumes convey just as much of the story as the actress beneath all that silk. For example, the dress Mina wears in Rule’s Cafe (the absinthe scene) was colored red - Dracula’s color - to convey that Mina would soon be tainted by vampirism. (Landau 127)

Ishioka “carefully considered Mina’s role in the drama” before she chose green as Mina’s thematic color. (Dworkin 61) The color needed to compass the character’s intelligence, sexual naïveté, stoicism, sense, and strong will. Many of these attributes can be seen in the dress she wears on the streets of London and in the cinematograph. The pert hat represents her vivacity and fortitude, the manly lapels her status as a New Woman with a “man’s brain [...] and a woman’s heart“, etc. (Stoker 266)

Winona Ryder wearing the town dress. Photo by Ralph Nelson II. (Landau 80)

Sketch of the town dress by Eiko Ishioka. Photo by Keith Sherins. (Dworkin 60)

Most of Mina’s dresses - including her typing gown - also sport high collars to reflect her modesty and chastity:

Mina’s typing dress. Photo by David Seidner. (Dworkin63)

The high collar can also be seen on Mina’s three-quarter sleeve dress. This dress is rather domestic-looking because of the contrast between the apron and the skirt and wrap. It also lacks leaf embroidery (whose importance will be discussed later) and is almost always worn while in the presence or under the protection of Van Helsing.

Mina’s three-quarter sleeve dress. Photos by Ralph Nelson II. (Landau 129, 125, 141)

As you can see, Ishioka took a predominantly historical, orthodox approach to Mina’s costumes, only pushing boundaries with her creative embellishments. (Dworkin 94) However, “Costumes should be more than just items that explain the role of the actors who wear them”, she stresses. (Dworkin 27) A costume should challenge the actor, filmmakers, and audience. (Dworkin 27) An example of this type of costume is Mina’s wedding dress, which is featured only briefly in the movie. Rather than a virginal white, it is instead a sombre gray-green:

This type of implicit message can also be seen in the final act of the film, in which Mina wears a historically outmoded style. “I designed her cape in the last scene with a strong Renaissance flavor, a Pre-Raphaelite look.” (Dworkin 91) This costume foreshadows Mina’s realization that she is truly the reincarnation of Elisabeta, Dracula’s 15th century bride.

Mina’s Renaissance cape. Photo by David Seidner. (Dworkin 91)

Elisabeta’s gown, seen at the beginning of the film and later in flashbacks, contains the elements that draw the two (three?) central characters together: Emblazoned on the torso is Dracula’s crest. Elisabeta and Mina’s designs are relatively consistent: On the sleeves and skirt - and even her crown of laurel - is the foliage motif that is often also found on Mina’s dresses. Both have the theme color of green. While Elisabeta wears a farthingale, Mina wears a bustle.

Elisabeta’s gown. First photo by David Seidner, second by Ralph Nelson II. (Dworkin 79, Landau 14)

Ishioka’s desire to design museum-quality costumes and her overall perfectionism meant that making multiple copies of her garments for filming was financially impractical. Richard Shissler, the associate costume designer, said that “We probably should have had duplicates of everything, but we just didn’t have the budget [...] Eiko didn’t want to compromise, so we had multiples only when we really needed them.” (Landau 127) Mina’s costumes were constructed with silk taffeta, imported from France and Italy, by Dale Wibben, a freelance dressmaker from San Francisco. (Dworkin 94) Sally Ann Parsons from Parsons-Meares, Ltd. in New York did the more theatrical costumes for Dracula, Lucy, and Renfield while Vincent Costume, Inc. made the men’s clothing. (Dworkin 94) The elaborate embroidery on many of the costumes was done by Penn and Fletcher and Monogram West. (Dworkin 94)

In retrospect, upon seeing her handiwork, it’s no wonder that Coppola chose Ishioka. However, at the time it was a gamble; she had never worked on the costumes for a film before, only television. Coppola’s “strategy in hiring someone like her - an independent, a weirdo outsider with no roots in the business - it worked in the end. Because I could look at the screen and say, well, these costumes are truly irrational and artistic and absolutely unique.” (Dworkin 93)

If I revisit Bram Stoker’s Dracula again, it will be to talk about the one thing in in the film that is more beautiful than the costumes: Wojciech Kilar’s glissando filled love theme, “Mina/Dracula”. (You can hear it over at YouTube, in this video from 2:00 to the end.)

:: Bibliography ::

• Dworkin, Susan, ed. Coppola and Eiko on Bram Stoker’s Dracula. By Francis Ford Coppola and Eiko Ishioka. San Francisco: Collins Publishers San Francisco, 1992. ISBN: 0002551675.
• Landau, Diana, ed. Bram Stoker’s Dracula: The Film and the Legend. By Francis Ford Coppola. New York: Newmarket Press, 1992. ISBN: 1557041393.
• Stoker, Bram. Dracula. New York: Tom Doherty Associates, 1989. ISBN: 0812523016.

I had the opportunity to go see Dale Chihuly’s installation the other day at the Phipps Conservatory & Botanical Gardens. (Good thing, too, because it’s heading out.) Chihuly shapes, colors, and textures glass in some pretty remarkable ways. Whether it’s futuristic neon lights made to resemble a tree’s canopy (in abstraction) or a pillar of glass that seems to be inspired by the kelp from the Sargasso Sea, his designs a treat for the eyes. I had resisted going during the day because I heard the illuminated glass was so remarkable at night.

Photos:

• Phalanx of color / movement in the Palm Court.
• Neon brambles / creepers (also, me) in the Thai Tropical Forest exhibit.
• Aqueous, bioluminescent clam forms in the Sunken Garden.
• Verdigris fairy tale-scape in the East Room.

Special thanks to Kat for snapping the photos and meandering with me.

There’s nothing quite like refining a recipe you already know and love. It’s the same type of pleasure that you get after crafting a masterful sentence. The recipe for Confetti Bites (known in my household as “Veggie Pizza”) is delicious. However, I found myself constantly thinking about what I could change to make it healthier.

I recently took my highly edited version of this recipe to a potluck, and although it didn’t stand out among the many excellent dishes, everyone was well pleased. (I had to compete against homemade pasta and cheesecake! Gone are the simple days when my culinary skills wowed the entirety of the Stacks department.)

:: Hummus and veggie squares ::

1 Container garlic hummus
2 Eight ounce packages of refrigerated crescent rolls
Salad Supreme
Basil
Chopped vegetables (carrots, red peppers, broccoli, cauliflower)

1. Press the contents of each crescent roll package onto a 15×10x1″ baking sheet to form crust. (No need to grease the sheet.)
2. Bake in a 350° F oven for 12-15 min. (They burn easily. Be vigilant.)
3. Spread hummus over the cooled crust.
4. Top with: Salad Supreme, basil, chopped vegetables.

I used Tribe brand hummus, but I think a more finely puréed one, such as Sabra, might taste better. (I had tried to make my own, but alas, it wasn’t very good.) It may also be advisable to experiment with a plain or flavored hummus if you plan on changing the vegetables. I chose these based on color, then taste. Other flavors may require a slightly different spread.

In the future, I’m going to try mushing the crescent roll dough into a ball and rolling it out. Hopefully this will prevent the final crust from breaking along the dough’s original perforated lines (despite my efforts to blend the dough into one mass on the sheet).

Note: Salad Supreme (and most likely the crescent roll dough) is not vegan; it contains Romano cheese. To create a vegan substitute mix: salt, sesame seeds, poppy seeds, paprika, celery seeds, garlic powder, black pepper, and red pepper. (You’re on your own when it comes to making a vegan crust!)

My sister Jen and I always wanted to have our own televised cooking show called “Obscene Cuisine”. We hoped to purvey recipes that seemed disgusting, but ultimately culminated in surprisingly delicious foods. Our pilot dishes ranged from gelatin filled with a sundry list of reprehensibles to deep-fried sticks of butter. So now you know why this feature is not elegantly entitled “L’amour de la gastronomie”. Obscene Cuisine is about my culinary misadventures. Epicures, beware!

:: 306 Paul’s Vanilla Wafers ::

2/3 cup butter
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg
2 tablespoons milk
1 1/4 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons vanilla

Cream the butter with an electric mixer. This is easiest if it’s at room temperature. (Or you can microwave it in 10 second bursts, on the lowest power level, until it’s soft.) Then add the sugar and remaining wet ingredients: well-beaten egg, milk, and vanilla.

Combine the other dry ingredients (flour, baking powder, salt) in a separate bowl, making sure that they are well sifted together. Mix dry into wet in a few, manageable amounts. At this point the wafer dough should be rather viscous.

Prepare the baking sheet(s) with a light application of non-stick cooking spray. Drop the dough by half-teaspoons onto the sheet. (Making the wafers any larger will result in a burnt bottom and under-cooked top.) Be sure to give the little buggers room to spread. Bake for approximately 10 minutes, or until the edges begin to brown. (You’ll get a feel for when they’re done after the first batch or two.)

The last time I made this recipe I used raw cane sugar, whole wheat flour, rice milk, and added some nutmeg and cinnamon. This resulted in ambiguously spiced alien pods rather than vanilla wafers. (The color was cool and the taste was okay, but they also had a weird texture.) This time I followed the recipe faithfully (save for adding more vanilla) and the wafers turned out as advertised. However, some might find the taste is lacking; after all, it is just butter, vanilla, sugar, and flour.

:: Bibliography ::

Harris, Jessie W., and Elisabeth Lacey Speer. Everyday Foods, edited by Alice F. Blood. (Publishing city unknown), (state unknown): Houghton Mifflin Company, 1941. Page 503.

P.S. Isn’t it awesome that the editor’s last name is Blood?