If you are lying, like me, in a state of elation since from today we will have an extra hour of light (oh joy!), but are at the same time feeling slightly comatose and confused at the time change, well, take it easy, sit back and relax maybe watching a stylish movie.
My suggestion for today (though maybe not highly recommended if you experienced getting stuck in Channel Tunnel...) is The Transatlantic Tunnel (1935) by Maurice Elvey (embedded at the end of this post, or download it here to watch it offline) taken from Bernhard Kellermann’s novel Der Tunnel (among the previous versions of the novel there is German Der Sibertunnel, shot in 1915, and a French version directed by Curtis Bernhardt in 1933, entitled Le Tunnel).
This is one of the first films I often torture people with while lecturing about fashion and film in the 1930s.
The plot may not have much to do with fashion since it revolves around an engineer, Richard McAllan, who launches an ambitious plan, building an undersea tunnel between the United States and the UK. As the years pass, though, the project turns into an obsession that ends up destroying McAllan's family life and killing thousands of workers.
Though the film should probably be listed in the utopian melodramatic sci-fi fantasy category, there are quite a few reasons why this movie should be featured in a fashion and film course.
Fans of futuristic Art Deco architectures will enjoy details such as the broadcasting station (reporting good and bad news about the tunnel in Big Brother style); the ziggurat shapes (scattered here and there) and the lines and curves of the technologically advanced tunnel; the modern trains that run through the tunnel (based on the aerodynamic 1930s car Tatra T77 with its Art Deco streamlined silhouette - try to spot the Tatra cars in the film!) and the televisors (hilariously futuristic means of communications, especially in their home versions with a TV screen that seems to anticipate live chats).
The spaceman-like suits (check out the anti-gas masks worn towards the end of the film), uniforms and aviator suits hint at the dynamic work being carried out undersea, though the uniforms make you think also about the typical regimented looks connected with spaceship crews and contrast with the elegantly chic dresses worn by the female characters.
The costumes of this film are credited to Elsa Schiaparelli and Joe Strassner.
In fact, even if Schiap weren't credited you would still be able to recognise her designs.
The evening gowns you see at the beginning of the film worn by Varlia (Helen Vinson) and Ruth (Madge Evans) (say around 3:41 and 2:38) are very similar to Schiaparelli’s early 30s designs, such as her gowns inspired by the Directoire (1931) and her gowns with glycerinised ostrich feathers (1932). Besides, the first dress Ruth wears in the film was shocking pink - so Schipa's trademark colour - according to the film advert (third image in this post).
The dark dress with white outlines (1:07:00 – also note Varlia’s suit in the same scene - it looks rather modern, definitely not for the cut, but for its distressed fabric) Ruth wears towards the end of the film recalls in some ways Schiaparelli’s iconic looks such as her trompe l’oeil ribbon sweater matched with a black trumpet skirt.
My favourite designs (I swear I would be happy to go around dressed like that everyday…) remains Ruth’s striking sailor suit (17:34 complete with hat and 20:00), a crossover between Schiaparelli’s trompe l'oeil sailor jumper and her boating outfits from 1934. I think this suit was probably the starting point for many designs created in more recent years by Jean Paul Gaultier.
Enjoy your journey through The Transatlantic Tunnel then, and don't forget to spot more futuristic/style references in it.
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