January 2026
Maggie Morgan, a professor emeritus at UC Davis, is a costume designer for stage and screen with experience working on films such as Apollo 13, Casino, and Men in Black.
What’s the role of costume design in films?
Costume design is a kind of secret language. It’s a way of communicating with the audience emotionally, often without them realizing it. We all understand some visual codes instinctively — like uniforms, for example — but costume design goes much deeper than that. It expresses who people are, how they see themselves, how they want to be seen and how they fit into their world. Those choices touch emotions in ways we don’t always consciously process.
That “secret language” really comes through in Casino, which you worked on. Can you talk about that?
Casino was very grounded in real people. We were lucky enough to have access to family photo albums of the real-life characters, which helped enormously. Robert De Niro and Rita Ryack, who designed his character, even visited Frank Rosenthal in Florida — he couldn’t go to Las Vegas anymore because he was banned from the state. He loaned them clothing from his closet so they could really understand how he dressed.
He was an extraordinary dresser — he never wore anything twice — and that part of the film is very real. Where costume designers come in creatively is in heightening those realities. Color becomes a storytelling tool. As the De Niro character grows more chaotic in the film, the colors he wears intensifies. That’s where subtle communication happens: color, texture, detail. Film allows for an incredible level of detail — you notice glasses, jewelry, collars — things that might not register in theater the same way.
What happens when you don’t have a real-world reference like someone’s actual closet?
It always starts with the script even if you do end up in someone’s closet. Then comes research and interpretation. How early a costume designer comes on the scene depends on budget, schedule and how savvy the director is about the process. Unfortunately, lead times have gotten shorter over the years.
Directors often guide the aesthetic by the designers they hire. Some designers do a wide range of styles; others have very specific strengths. For me, I especially love period films — especially 19th- and early 20th-century work. I love the intersection of clothing history and social history. Clothing tells you how society was structured, what people could and couldn’t do and how they moved through the world.
There’s also the challenge of translating that history for a modern audience. How do you make a character instantly readable to someone today, even when the silhouette or style is unfamiliar? It’s like a time machine — one of the most powerful storytelling tools in film and theater.
What happens when there’s no historical record to lean on like in fantasy or science fiction?
Even fantasy starts with something familiar. Designers riff on existing ideas. Take Blade Runner — it’s science fiction, but it draws heavily on 1940s silhouettes and film noir. Mixing eras helps prevent the design from landing in one specific time, while still giving the audience visual anchors they recognize.
Even in full fantasy worlds, designers are looking at artists, textures, materials and, like every film, it always starts with the story. The key question we ask ourselves, every time, is What is the world we’re creating?
How much do actors influence costume design? Is it about their opinions or more about their physical presence?
Both. Every actor is different. Robert De Niro, for example, deeply understands the importance of costume. On another film I worked on, The Fan, he arrived with his makeup artist carrying a binder of stills from all his previous roles — he didn’t want to repeat anything. The consummate professional.
In fittings, actors often find the character. Clothing creates a physical and emotional shift. That’s why collaboration matters. I want actors to feel good in what they’re wearing. If they don’t, it shows on screen.
Color seems central to your work. How do palettes factor into your design process?
Color is essential. I work closely with the production designer and cinematographer to understand how colors will photograph. Sometimes a bold choice doesn’t read the way you expect on camera.
I use color reference books, artwork, fashion history, even home décor from specific eras. Knowing what colors existed — and were fashionable — at a given time matters, especially when you’re working with vintage clothing.
Is there a project that still stands out for you?
The first independent feature I designed, Alex in Wonder (also known as Sex and a Girl). It was set in 1979 — exactly my time and place — and felt deeply personal. Seeing the actors in costume and knowing it was right was incredibly affirming.
Another unforgettable experience was assisting on How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Every single object had to be designed — every fork, every costume — to fit the Dr. Seuss world. Walking onto that soundstage felt magical.
When you watch films, can you just enjoy them? Or are you always analyzing the look?
I love watching movies. Some colleagues can’t anymore — it feels like work to them — but I can step back and enjoy it. What I notice most is the script. Bad scripts are hard to sit through.
Design-wise, I assume everything on screen is intentional. If something doesn’t quite work, I usually think, “they didn’t have the budget,” and give them the benefit of the doubt.
Tell us a bit about the structure of your course and what you hope members take away from it.
In terms of structure, we’ll discuss one film a week — four strong, award-winning films — which everyone will view ahead of time. I’ll give them things to look for, questions to consider, and then we’ll discuss.
One of the films we’ll talk about is Casino because I thought it would be interesting to talk about a film I worked on, and can provide a real behind-the-scenes look at the process.
Another film we’re going to discuss is Gosford Park. It’s Robert Altman at his best, and it pays incredible attention to social structure—especially the lives of servants. The costumes express hierarchy, restriction, and unspoken rules of behavior. It’s also a murder mystery, which doesn’t hurt.
I’m really looking forward to having people see familiar films in a completely new way. Everyone brings different perspectives, and those discussions are always fascinating.
Ultimately, what I hope people take away is a deeper appreciation for costume design and visual storytelling — and another way to enjoy films. Costumes are moving artwork. When you know how to look and what to look for, it adds a whole new layer of pleasure.