Weathering the spotlight

Cinema's coats that left a lasting impression

KARACHI:

Coralie Fargeat's audacious body horror The Substance (2024) leaves its viewers with many unsettling sounds and images of gore and monstrosity. Which is why, in the absence of a fashion-trained eye, even as the hyper-surreal prosthetics hog the praise they deserve, the film's many style moments may be overlooked.

Among these iconic instances is Demi Moore's fearful and age-obsessed protagonist, Elisabeth Sparkle, a fading Hollywood has-been, throwing a yolk yellow coat on to visit a dingy alley to collect her refill of The Substance, a black market drug that promises to create a "better version of yourself". The drug's ambitions are unnatural and abstruse and in its tutorial at the film's beginning, it splits an egg yolk into two. Every time one sees Elisabeth hasten across the sun-filtered parody of Los Angeles, her coat brings to mind the same shady chemistry of The Substance in all its gooey, yellow partition.

Fargeat's aesthetics have courted comparisons to cinema's various masterpieces from The Shining (1980), Videodrome (1983), and Carrie (1976). But The Substance is not only the latest addition to a genre-bending tradition of horror. It also continues the big screen's old affair with the character-defining coat, an eccentricity or a simple style preference that tells more about the story than what is said.

The classic trench

From luxurious furs to understated trenches, cinema's most iconic coats often carry stories that go beyond the characters wearing them. These garments are more than just practical or stylish—they're rich with symbolism, acting as tools to communicate identity, emotion, and transformation.

The trench coat holds a singular place in cinema; its clean lines and structured silhouette make it a visual shorthand for complexity and intrigue. One of the most iconic examples is Audrey Hepburn's trench coat in Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961). When she stands in the rain, clutching her cat, the beige Burberry trench is as much a part of the scene's impact as her trembling expression. Its structured simplicity mirrors Holly Golightly's tenuous hold on her life, making it one of cinema's most enduring outerwear moments.

In contrast, Humphrey Bogart's trench in Casablanca (1942) is the epitome of understated masculinity. Its unembellished design reflects Rick Blaine's practicality and guarded demeanour. Worn loosely over his suits, it adds a touch of ruggedness to his otherwise refined wardrobe. The trench becomes synonymous with Rick's enigmatic presence, balancing his role as both a romantic and a reluctant hero.

The trench coat's versatility has ensured its place in countless cinematic moments. Marlene Dietrich's sharply tailored trench in A Foreign Affair (1948) plays up her character's sultry, commanding aura, while Meryl Streep's structured beige trench in Kramer vs. Kramer (1979) signals professionalism and confidence.

Luxuries of fur

Few garments radiate opulence and intrigue like a fur coat. Margot Tenenbaum's pale mink in The Royal Tenenbaums (2001) is one such example, its rich texture and classic cut exuding a sense of melancholy sophistication. Costume designer Karen Patch specifically chose the mink for its vintage feel, aligning with Margot's understated yet eccentric personality.

Another standout is Joan Crawford's white fur stole in Mildred Pierce (1945), which becomes a visual marker of her character's hard-won success. Its plush material and pristine colour contrast with the darker tones of her journey, emphasising her ascent into wealth and independence.

Anne Bancroft's leopard-print coat in The Graduate (1967) goes in an entirely different direction, embracing boldness and rebellion. The wild pattern underscores Mrs Robinson's unapologetic sensuality, while the luxurious fur enhances her magnetic presence. It's not just stylish—it's daring, loud, and unforgettable.

Behold the long coat

If fur and trench are statements of texture and material, long coats are defined by their appeal to length and sweeping silhouettes. Take Keanu Reeves's iconic black trench coat in The Matrix (1999). Its exaggerated length enhances Neo's presence, making every action sequence visually arresting. Costume designer Kym Barrett chose the coat's fluid design to create an almost cape-like effect, reinforcing Neo's transition into a figure of rebellion and power.

Similarly, Tilda Swinton's cream overcoat in The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (2005) transforms her into an otherworldly monarch. The long, fur-lined coat accentuates her towering authority, while its pale hue suggests coldness and detachment. Its dramatic silhouette, extending well past the knees, amplifies her visual dominance in every frame.

Cate Blanchett's brown wool coat in Carol (2015), on the other hand, is selective in the regality it seeks. Its length and tailored fit give the character a refined, sophisticated air, while the fabric's softness hints at an underlying warmth. Blanchett's poised performance is heightened by the coat's restrained yet luxurious design, which complements the film's mid-century aesthetic.

The long coat takes a darker turn in Se7en (1995), where Brad Pitt's leather trench is gritty and imposing, aligning with the film's bleak atmosphere. That effect can also be observed in Al Pacino's floor-length overcoat in The Godfather Part II (1974) and its aura of menace, an extended hemline enhancing Michael Corleone's imposing presence.

Whether it's a tailored wool coat or a dramatic trench, the length and silhouette of a long coat create visual weight, giving characters an air of authority and transformation that shorter outerwear simply can't achieve.