I sometimes wonder WTFrock is wrong with me that I watched all these historical TV epic series when they first aired in the U.S. and I was just a kid or teenager. Case in point is the original Brideshead Revisited (1981), nearly 11 hours of languid 1920s nostalgia for the recent past, bursting with repressed homoeroticism, and layered with Jeremy Irons‘ oh-so-erudite voiceovers mostly ripped from the Evelyn Waugh novel. Pre-teen me ate that stuff up, and look what happened ¯_(ツ)_/¯
Well, current me randomly decided on a rewatch and got sucked right in, hopefully with a more mature understanding, yet probably with the same youthful fascination for rich and tragic ye-olde-timey folks. And since I found a remastered edition available on BritBox, I could get screencaps.
The book and series have been called “a hymn to privilege, snobbery, repression, even union-busting,” which is absolutely true. But sometimes I just want to watch pretty boys fall in love whilst in beautiful surroundings where everyone’s in beautiful clothes, and the first three hours of this series delivers on that point. Of course, it’s understood that things won’t turn out well because of how the story is framed, and thus Sebastian Flyte’s delightful champagne-soaked afternoons turn into a depressive alcoholism that hurts everyone around him. But because those first hours of the series have languorously and poetically let us feel the infinite and spectacular pleasures of being young, in love, rich, foolish, glamorous, and carefree, we’re hooked and want to see how it all turns out for these ridiculously privileged screwups. At least that’s what sucked me in, on first watch and now.
What I didn’t notice as much when I was a pre-teen was the theme of Catholicism in the story, which really is one of Evelyn Waugh’s main points. The author converted to that religion in 1930, and Brideshead was the first of his explicitly Catholic novels. The whole plot is how a deeply religious (specifically Catholic) upbringing ruins a whole family’s life, and how nostalgia for the past ruins one man’s life.
Lord Marchmain falls in love with a Catholic and converts to marry her, but regrets it and abandons his family for most of his / their life. Lady Marchmain raises her four children in the church, and it screws each of them up uniquely. The eldest becomes a priggish nerd, Sebastian turns into an alcoholic wastrel, and the youngest Cordelia tries to become a nun but fails at that and just ends up as a strange spinster working on the war effort. The elder sister Julia has a glorious debut but can’t marry anyone eligible because they’re all Protestant. She sets her cap on a Canadian businessman who at first says he’ll convert for her, but turns out he’s divorced already, so they have a scandalous ‘mixed’ marriage. Theirs is an unhappy union since all he wanted was her upper-class connexions. She has a miscarriage, compounding their unhappiness. Then she and Charles have an affair and divorce their respective spouses to marry each other, but Julia reneges at the last minute realizing she can’t marry an agnostic who is so anti-Catholic. Thus, nobody ends up happy.
But it’s a beautifully filmed and acted series, so all this drama is extremely engaging and enjoyable to watch, IMO. The story opens during World War II with Army captain Charles Ryder (Jeremy Irons) being stationed at an abandoned old English estate — Brideshead, which he remembers from his younger days. Thus, the series is a flashback, beginning in 1922 where seemingly middle-class Charles meets beautiful Lord Sebastian Flyte (Anthony Andrews) at Oxford. The first episode is university hijinx, where we briefly meet Charles’ father (John Gielgud) and Sebastian’s sister, Julia (Diana Quick).
When Charles is welcomed into Sebastian’s privileged social circle at Oxford, it includes one openly gay man, Anthony Blanche (Nickolas Grace), who is teased by those not of this circle but accepted by this crowd for his fine taste and wit. Meanwhile, Charles is fascinated by Sebastian, and this blossoms into a deeply affectionate friendship, as close as lovers (which is oft debated). There is some derision expressed in the course of the TV series towards Blanche and his obvious homosexuality vs. Sebastian’s more undercover male relationships, and I’m not sure how much of that comes from the novel. Of course, the book was written when homosexuality was illegal in Britain, and decriminalization was still in progress at the time this series was produced.
The second episode is a glorious sojourn in Venice where the lads visit Sebastian’s father, Lord Marchmain (Laurence Olivier) and his mistress Cara (Stéphane Audran).
The fellows return to Oxford in episode three, but Sebastian’s drinking is escalating. Julia becomes more involved, as does the rest of the family, in episode four where Sebastian’s downfall begins. Episode 5 ends with Charles leaving Sebastian and the whole family, thinking it might be forever, but of course, they’re connected now. The next episode starts with Charles studying art in Paris, then flashes back to fill in Julia’s story, from her stellar debut through her marriage.
In 1926, Charles returns to London, and episode seven reconnects him with the family who are gathered at Lady Marchmain’s deathbed, except for Sebastian. This is the last we’ll see of Lord Flyte, he’s forever sundered from Charles and his family, and the story remains with a melancholy Charles. Episode eight reveals that he’s married a titled woman, Celia (Jane Asher), for money and they have two children he cares not a whit for. Charles jump-starts his career as painter with a tour through South America, and on his return, Charles continues to ignore his wife and starts an affair with Julia, an obvious stand-in for Sebastian. Their affair takes up episodes nine and 10 as they each divorce their spouses and plan to marry each other. But for episode 11 in 1939, with World War II looming, Lord Marchmain comes home to die. His deathbed acceptance of Catholicism compels Julia to also return to her faith, and she rejects Charles. Thus, the story comes back to his 1940s reminiscence.
So let’s talk about the look of this series, since that’s what draws you in as much as the tragedy. First of all are the settings — the grand estate of Brideshead is fantastically portrayed by Castle Howard, one of the biggest and most impressive estates in England. The key interiors of the family’s London townhome, Marchmain House, were filmed at Tatton Hall, which has a particularly spectacular entryway and library.
The costumes were designed by Jane Robinson, who had already won an Emmy for Jennie: Lady Randolph Churchill (1976) and would go on to win Emmys for Anastasia: The Mystery of Anna (1987) and Poor Little Rich Girl: The Barbara Hutton Story (1988). She was nominated for an Emmy for Brideshead Revisited and won a BAFTA. The costumes span the 1920s to 1930s pretty well, and the styles tend not to be extravagant and flashy. Instead, the look is comfortable old-money elegance. And for once, I give a hoot about the men’s clothes because they’re so pretty!
Charles Ryder’s Costumes in Brideshead Revisited (1981)
Charles rents somewhat shabby rooms at Oxford at the start of the story, and he’s definitely shown to be not of the elite upper-classes that Sebastian occupies. So his clothes are proper but plain, especially in the first half of the series set in the 1920s. The more he hangs out with Sebastian, the more Charles dresses like him.
While they’re from Yale in America, the fellows in the Wiffenpoofs singing group typify the collegiate style Charles starts out in:
Much of the ’20s menswear is the same as the above, until the story jumps forward to Charles’ South America trip and when he ends up in New York City in the 1930s.
Compare with:
Lord Sebastian Flyte’s Costumes in Brideshead Revisited (1981)
The character of Sebastian is frequently described in the novel as beautiful, and the series dresses him elegantly to reflect this.
Sebastian’s (and thus Charles’) relaxed elegance is the epitome of 1920s upper-class sporting clothes, like this:
The last scenes with Sebastian are tragic as he takes up with a wounded German man in Morocco. He dies offscreen in a monastery near Carthage, Tunis.
Anthony Blache’s Costumes in Brideshead Revisited (1981)
Anthony’s outfits out him as queer, as does his stutter and affectations. It’s a cliched portrayal, but not unsympathetic. He doesn’t die or recant, he’s proud of who he is. He’s also one of the few characters who speaks the clear truth to other characters.
Lady Julia Flyte / Mottram’s Costumes in Brideshead Revisited (1981)
As the main female character, Julia’s clothes progress from youthful 1920s debutant through her wedding and mother’s death to the 1930s where her marriage breaks down and she has an affair with Charles.
Compare with:
There are lots of extant velvet opera coats from the 1920s, but in case you think bright colors like pink aren’t period:
At the same party, the guests are dressed smashingly, including Julia’s rival, Brenda Champion (Jenny Runacre).
How about some sportswear? And a dog too, in case Kendra’s watching.
She’ll wear this sweater a few times. These kinds of wildly patterned sweaters were trendy in the 1920s, and here’s one in a catalog that’s similar:
And of course there’s CoCo Chanel:
At Brideshead for the holidays, as Sebastian’s alcoholism gets worse, we see more of Julia’s fancy wardrobe, like this dip-dyed silk dress with tiers of ruffles. It’s very sweet and pretty, as if to contrast her with her wastrel brother.
At another family dinner, Julia wears gold while her mother wears black and gold. They are the picture of Old Money.
As her relationship with Mottram grows, she adds a dramatic black and gold gown to her rotation.
In episode 6, which is all about her, she adds this amazing coat over that gown.
She finally gets married, and while she wears a formal dress with her mother’s lace and orange blossoms, she complains that it’s tacky and wrong because it’s not in the Catholic Church.
This fashion plate is a little earlier but similar in style:
At her mother’s deathbed, Julia rewears the green sweater outfit.
Jump forward to the 1930s where Julia and Charles accidentally meet on a ship from America back to the UK.
Julia has dinner with Charles and his wife on their first night aboard ship.
Similar cut as these 1930s patterns:
Back in London, Julia’s look swings from demure to dramatic.
At first, she plays hostess to her estranged husband while having an affair with Charles.
Everyone at this party at Brideshead looks fabulous.
Once divorce proceedings begin, she’s back to demure.
And then dramatic for evening.
Then her last few outfits have oriental influences, which, while it happened in the period, seem like an odd choice for this character.
Lady Marchmain’s Costumes in Brideshead Revisited (1981)
As the matriarch of the family, she’s not a trend-setter. Her style is, of course, conservative, but it’s not out of date.
These kinds of “ethnic” prints were popular in the ’20s (remember how Cora, Rosamund, and even Edith wore them in Downton Abbey‘s final seasons?). A period example:
Here’s the black and gold outfit Lady Marchmain wears when Julia wears gold at dinner. And the necklace she bequeaths to her daughter.
She wears silver at another family dinner, still very Old Money.
Lady Cordelia Flyte’s Costumes in Brideshead Revisited (1981)
Phoebe Nicholls was in her 20s when she played Cordelia, who starts as barely a teenager in the 1920s and matures dramatically over the 17 years that the story takes place. This is accomplished through excellent costuming and hairstyling. Her hair begins in two childish braids and is slowly styled up. Her dresses are cut very straight in the beginning, not just for the period, but they make her look juvenile. Later, she gets bulkier styles and / or more adult fabric choices.
In a later dinner scene, it looks like Cordelia is wearing the same pale yellow-green dress, but now it has bold flowers painted (or embroidered?) on the skirt. I wonder if the skirt portion was replaced mid-way through filming?
As time progresses, Cordelia’s look matures. At her mother’s deathbed, she’s dressed less as a young teen and more as a serious, bookish young woman.
Then in late 1930s, Cordelia returns as her sister is getting divorced and then when her father is dying. Her transformation into a spinster is complete.
But she gets slightly more attractive outfits for the last few family dinners. Cordelia’s all grown up in black silk and lace.
Cara’s Costumes in Brideshead Revisited (1981)
Lord Marchmain’s Italian mistress is seen in two episodes — ep two in Venice and ep 11 to accompany Lord Marchmain who wants to die in his English home.
Cara takes Charles and Sebastian sight-seeing in Venice, so we get a really lovely montage accompanied by Jeremy Irons’ literary voiceover.
Cara has wonderful headgear, from turbans to cloches to brimmed hats. They look right out of a fashion plate like this:
Here’s another one:
Her pale dress with the little pleats reminds me of this kind of dress:
In 1939, Cara comes to England, and her style is much darker and more serious, as fits the occasion.
Lady Celia Ryder’s Costumes in Brideshead Revisited (1981)
Charles’ wife is first introduced in New York City in the 1930s, and they’ve already been married a few years and have two kids (the last of which Charles has not or has barely seen due to his travels). She had an affair at some point in their relationship, which Charles uses an an excuse to dislike her even more. Of course, he married her for money and not love.
On board the ship home to the UK, Celia throws a party on the first night and goes out to dinner.
But she gets seasick very quickly when the ship hits a storm. As she recovers, she wears this stunning silk bed jacket.
As they leave the ship, Celia suspiciously watches her husband chat up Julia.
Her outfit is rather like a combo of the two suits in this fashion plate with their bold, graphic prints.
We last see Celia at Charles’ art show, where she plays the dutiful wife.
Her perky blue-and-white check outfit has a similar style as this pattern:
Have you watched Brideshead Revisited, either the first time around or more recently?
When I was in graduate school none of us were in the art library on Monday nights, all somewhere watching ‘Brideshead’. Especially the Venice episode …
The Venice episode is magnificent. I can watch that one over & over…
I only hate the rich–well, most of them–because I covet certain of their Nice Things, like these outfits and real Champagne. I wish Masterpiece would stop remaking series that don’t need to be remade, and just rerun “Brideshead” and “I, Claudius” on PBS. They’re showing some mediocre stuff these days.
Sadly, PBS (& it’s collaborations w/the BBC or ITV) just doesn’t seem to be able to compete w/the budgets of Netflix or even Starz these days :(
I call this the “adolescence ruined by “Masterpiece Theatre”” problem. I was led to believe that there’d be MANY more masquerade balls when I became an adult.
HAH. I resemble this problem. So much so that I ended up throwing a lot of masquerade balls ;)