The World woven into a Garment - Costume as a tool of worldbuilding

Presentation at Critical Costume 2024, Los Angeles

"NOTHING, YOU'RE ABOUT TO SEE IS TRUE"

With this promise opens the most recent film about Edward ‘Ned’ Kelly, the famous Australian Bushranger of Irish descent. The film True History of the Kelly Gang (directed by Justin Kurzel) traces Ned Kelly’s life from an early age, eventually becoming the man, that forms the notorious Kelly gang which attacks the hated English police forces and finally goes down in a shootout, with Kelly being hanged in 1880.

Rather than offering a historically 'accurate' portrayal of the subject, the film focuses on its core theme—rebellion against oppressive forces—delivering it with a gritty, anarchic punk rock aesthetic that permeates the entire design of its world. Before we dive deeper into this, it’s probably important to clarify a few things about 'worlds' in general. So, let's begin:

WORLDS ARE A PECULIAR THING

- because they seem to exist primarily as a vessel for what captivates us the most: the story. Yet, constructing a space where the story unfolds is not only essential but, most of the time, it becomes inevitable, especially when narrative is at play. Worldbuilding in a visual medium such as film can never be strictly separated from the process of narration, because it doesn’t happen linear and can’t be analysed in sequential units. Costume, as one of these units (along with props, lighting, colour palettes), serves as both a narrative and worldbuilding device. As part of cultural sign systems, costumes carry significant information that can aid in answering questions about an unknown place, such as where it might be located or when things are happening. Simultaneously, it is always linked to the character whose actions initiate the story in the first place.

Alice Babidge’s costume design in True History of the Kelly Gang lays the groundwork for a world that feels familiar yet leaves room for the exploration of themes like self-representation and masculinity. This won’t be an in-depth analysis, but I will briefly touch on three key aspects: the world’s ontological status, its social structure, and the distribution of power. Using two terms coined by J.R.R. Tolkien, I will refer to the intersubjective reality we inhabit as the 'Primary World,' and to imaginary worlds created by authors as 'secondary.'

One of the first noticeable elements is the apparent disparity between the story's starting year – 1867 – and the clothing style worn by the characters on screen. It doesn't quite align. Let’s look at this piece of information through the perspective of worldbuilding: If there is a primary world (ours) and a secondary world (the undefined other, at the moment), there needs to be some kind of border, otherwise we wouldn’t call it secondary. That border doesn’t necessarily have to be geographical. Secondary worlds can diverge from primary ones by existing in a different time that may resemble the past or the future.

In True History, the costumes indicate that border not because they verify the year being 1867, but because the design uses a mix of pieces from different eras, that work well together. Alice Babidge stated in an interview:

“It was more about evoking the right sensibility, and playing into that vastness and timelessness – that’s what I wanted the world to have.”

The result is a balanced and harmonious look, yet it can’t be associated with the 1870s, the 1970s or anything in between with certainty. Conclusion: This world exists floating somewhere between past decades, feeling a bit off and strangely familiar at the same time.

Some key elements commonly used in worldbuilding include resources that shape the look of things (what materials are available?), belief systems and traditions (monotheistic, polytheistic, atheistic?), or power struggles that define relationships between groups of people (the source of power can derive from the combination of aspects: class, gender, tribe, occupation, old money vs. new money, etc). Concerning that last point, there is an essential power dynamic in Ned’s world, that is linked to two specific clothing items: the uniform and the dress. They signal and emphasize the distribution of power and position and thereby set the scene for the main narrative conflict.

UNIFORM

Uniforms in general denote power and unity, their wearers adhere to certain rules and behaviours and belong to an institution that exerts authority. In this world only one type of uniform is shown – the police uniform. And while it’s likely that other uniforms exist, from a worldbuilding perspective, it’s significant that no similar garments, for example the robes of a judge or a priest, are depicted. There’s only one type of governmental power, and with the visible absence of other authorities, police assumes a dominant power position. The effect of a uniform is also an interesting one, because it symbolizes the concept of a unifying institution, yet allowing the wearer to act as an individual. In situations where power is granted, individuals can therefore easily pursue their own agenda under the protection of an institution.

©Ari Wegner

DRESS

The dress, on the other hand, isn’t immediately associated with terms like authority, institution and law enforcement, because unlike a uniform it doesn’t confer institutional power on its wearer. In the world of True History, dresses are defined as feminine attire and while they don’t unify a group of people as distinctly as the police uniform, they signify women occupying various social positions. However, only two groups from a wider spectrum are presented: upper-class women and prostitutes at the local brothel. The social structure is defined by both what is shown and what is absent. As a result, the world feels constrained, fitting neatly into a limited framework where conflict seems inevitable due to the lack of other social ranks and their interactions. While upper-class ladies are dressed exclusively in white, non-transparent pieces, prostitutes wear dresses of colour, cut from sheer materials that are often dyed in pastel shades. It’s these dresses, that denote the powerless in this society - a group further marginalized by their work as sex workers, which also subjects them to suspicion due to perceived immorality.

©Matthew Thorne

Now, how things within this system evolve is already a matter of narration, and not so much of worldbuilding. Because for things to happen, characters need to perform actions. But since the dresses turn from worldbuilding to narrative device, let's explore how they influence the societal framework:

When Ned Kelly and his gang decide to carry out their attacks wearing dresses, the power imbalance seems to shift temporarily. The police forces, and therefore the symbol of oppression through male power, are attacked by men, that select a style of dress associated with one of the lowest social positions in that world – that of the so-called “fallen woman”. The clothing items suddenly denote and unify another group, namely that of the “Sons of Sieve”, as they call themselves – agitators, revolting against oppression. The action of borrowing and wearing dresses from the brothel points to their self-conception as anarchistic rebels – they don’t see themselves as the power to set things right for everyone, fighting like gentlemen. If that were their goal, they could have stolen upper-class attire or worn police uniforms to present themselves as just and virtuous.

©Matthew Thorne

But wearing feminine dresses, decorated with lace and ruffles, made from organza and chiffon, also addresses a question, that’s repeatedly raised by the narrative: How is a “real man” supposed to act like in the face of abuse and injustice? In some way it seems, that he can wear whatever pleases him, as long as his actions are violent and unforgiving. Ultimately, the power relations in the world of True History of the Kelly Gang remain largely unchanged and unchallenged, though. Ned is captured and has to submit to the prison’s dress code, a uniform in itself, that symbolizes the individuals defeat in a battle against invincible forces.

©Matthew Thorne

With her design, Alice Babidge creates an artificial world that, despite not resembling the 1870s, feels authentic. Which accounts for good worldbuilding, since a secondary world isn’t simply a temporal or geographical place, but an experiential one. It’s a space that’s visually and emotionally engaging, while setting the scene to tell a story in a specific way.