A Cog In The Works Of Disney: Chapter Two
Chapter Two: The Girth That Kept On Giving
So, welcome back and thank you for letting me share my beautiful and challenging Cogsworth costume designed by Ann Hould-Ward—who deservedly earned a Tony Award for her wonderful work on BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.
Cogsworth’s wardrobe was a masterpiece of intricacies that possessed an almost telepathic ability —as great costume designs almost always do—to dictate or at least inform its needs while being worn by the actor.
Once we travelled from the Michael Bennet Studios to start our previews of the newly designed BEAUTY AND THE BEAST 2000 TOUR in Tulsa, Oklahoma, I had many opportunities to allow it to have its way with me. And with this production’s new design, I was thankfully provided with lots of floor space to shift and land the costume’s girth and weight. I should mention here the number of candles that I lit daily to the inspiring spirit of the brilliant 1930s character actor, Eric Blore.
But, I digress...and as digressions go—
Here’s a bit more side tracking...The shape and size of our costumes was such that those of us playing the Principal Objects subconsciously lived with the threat of what might possibly happen if one of us fell during our scenes together. As a group we made several scurrying entrances and exits all throughout both acts, and if one of us happened to slip and land in a horizontal position we would have had to remain there like road kill until stage management was able to bring us back on our feet. Just think of the film, A CHRISTMAS STORY and helpless Randy flailing on the sidewalk in his snow suit. Thankfully, we remained vertical and un-pathetic.
Moving on…I didn’t travel with a personal dresser during the tour. Instead, I was assigned to a professional resident dresser in each theater we played. Each was given one rehearsal with me with copious notes after being given the rundown from our magnificent wardrobe department. My dressers were my lifelines. Each of them handled my care and watering for three to six hours a performance day. Including intermission, I only had two or three pauses lengthy enough to allow me to return to my dressing room. Mrs. Potts, Lumiere and myself spent most of our time very close to the wings. Battery operated fans and constantly refilled water bottles played an essential part of their responsibility. I don’t think I ever had need of a bathroom break. Once removed, my costume doubled its poundage in perspiration water weight…No need for relief.
Lastly, each costume was scrupulously Velcro free. Prior to the transformation scene that closes the musical; every hook, eye, zipper, wig, headdress, mike, glove and boot had to be switched out almost instantly in order for the equally elaborate human costume design to be put into place. The quick change was one of the mother lodes of quick changes in theatrical history and made for some serious stress from city to city. I was told to stay still, have the routine planted in my brain—and dictate the procedure quickly and calmly to whoever the new dresser was on hand. After the first few months it was like a reciting a mantra and there was never a problem...With one exception. Late in my run a dresser panicked and one slight mistake in the procedure escalated into a domino effect of chaos transforming me from a clock into something akin to a Star Trek transporter disaster. But, this was only one mishap in an exceptional year of being one of the many cogs in Disney’s mechanics. Those mechanics worked small miracles in certain lives, mine included. I’ll share one special experience with you in my next posting here.
Be Well.
Stay connected.
