A Bluestocking Knits

Knitting in the Movies: "The Hobbit"

Well, I seem to be in a bit of a house-keeping mood this week (blog-keeping?), tidying up old draft posts and putting them up.  When I wrote this in 2014 (!!) I said "I'm a bit behind with this, I know -- 'The Desolation of Smaug' came out nearly a year ago!" which sounds positively ancient by now.  These photos, though, especially the studio ones, are still pretty good, and worth posting for the knitwear and my theme, even though my opinion of the movies has tumbled considerably.

So -- these are from the first "Hobbit" movie, of course, "An Unexpected Party".  I think all of the dwarves have hand coverings of some sort, but not all are knitted.  Ori, on the far right here, has heavy garter-stitched fingerless gloves.

He also is the only one who has a knitted waistcoat, which gives him a sweet air of childlikeness in addition to Adam Brown's own, as though Ori's mother sent him off with extra warm clothing.

Sometimes he wears the waistcoat properly, and sometimes twisted and cast somehow about his neck like a cowl.  I must admit I can't quite figure out how this works, as the thing isn't circular!  Maybe he's just pulled out his arms and tucked up the hem around his shoulders.

Óin (John Callen) here has some pretty splendid knitted gloves, whose swirling cables echo that splendid beard.

Bofur (James Nesbitt) wears a multi-colored garter-stitch scarf.

Bombur (Stephen Hunter) has, perhaps not coincidentally, the thickest mitts, even with an extra moss-stitch patch sewn to the back of the hands.

Gandalf (Ian McKellen) has knitted mitts as well -- these are apparently folded back for extra warmth on the hands.  Unlike the dwarves' mitts, these don't appear to have a knitted thumb.  (The scarf is not knitted but woven, though I'm sure someone has come up with a knitted version by now!  Here's one, in fact.)

Knitting in the Movies (and TV): "Home Fires"

This is a bit old, but I was weeding out the images file on my computer this morning and realized I'd not posted these yet.  They are from the late "Home Fires" -- yes, it's been cancelled -- which I watched sort of half-fascinated, because Blitz-era England is one of my fascinations, and half-guiltily, since it was not a little soapy at times.  I do love Francesca Annis, though, in just about anything.

Part of these photos, I admit, are for the aprons and pinnies as much as for the knitting, though!  Above we have the ladies of the village out blackberrying -- Pat on the right (Claire Rushbrook) has a fairly typical cardy in a basketweave stitch.  Each of the women has a different yet very typically-1940s apron, Erica (Frances Grey) a wrap-around, Frances (Samantha Bond) a scoop-neck, and Pat a full one, probably H-back but we can't see this.

 An apparently favorite slipover worn by the butcher's son with the overprotective mother (Will Attenborough and Claire Price respectively), who has presumably knitted it herself.  Don't get me wrong, I completely understand not wanting to send your son off to shoot and be shot at, but she's a bit mad about it at the same time.  She herself has an interesting raglan-sleeved cardigan in a rather lovely sea-foam green.

Curiously, Frances's apron seems to have no ties, which I think would be fairly annoying, with it dragging in things.

An absolutely bang-on perfect 1940s pullover in chevron stripes on the blind Isobel (Gillian Dean).  If looks could kill, the entire Luftwaffe would have simply dropped stone-dead from the skies at this glare from Mrs. Cameron (Francesca Annis).

A very pretty green lacy cardigan worn by Kate (Rachel Hurd-Wood).  I think her sister Laura (Leila Mimmack) is also wearing a knitted cardigan of some sort, but in this picture it isn't quite clear.

The man we love to hate, the thoroughly-nasty Bob Simms (Mark Bazeley) in another perfectly-period slipover, this one a classic faded Fair Isle.

Sarah (Ruth Gemmell) has this very pretty cardigan in the famous King Charles brocade stitch, accented presumably with embroidered flowers inside lines of the diamonds at the front.

The wardrobe for this series is really excellent -- full marks, especially for including lots of period-looking knits!

And if you like the soundtrack, it was composed by Samuel Sim, with the haunting title track sung by Synergy Vocals, and for the time being at least, you can listen to the whole album on YouTube --

Knitting in the Movies: "Testament of Youth"

I found out only yesterday that there is a new movie of Vera Brittain's Testament of Youth, her memoir of her experiences as a VAD in the Great War, and the devastating repercussions of that war on women's lives.  I was one of those who was deeply moved by the 1979 television serial with Cheryl Campbell as Brittain, so that I was interested to learn more about the new film. 

It was a pleasant surprise, and rather a relief after writing so recently about the "Outlander" knitwear, to see immediately -- since the above still was the very first thing I saw when I Googled the film -- that there are a number of historically-accurate knitted garments worn by Brittain (played by Alicia Vikander) in the film.  Perhaps the designer's task was made a bit easier, since there is much more available in the way of fashion plates, photographs, and actual patterns, but there it is.  Brittain herself was very interested in clothing, despite her bluestocking air, so it is good to see that the costumes for the film reflect this -- in fact, the blue outfit below is apparently intentionally rather like her description of what she wore when arriving at Oxford, “a flimsy lace frock under a pale blue and grey reversible satin cloak, and an unsubstantial little pair of high-heeled white suede shoes.”

A lovely ensemble, with the high-waisted skirt and the Edwardian-but-not-too-much-so details.  This cardigan would hardly be out-of-place in any period in the subsequent century.

I think that Vera should perhaps be wearing some, er, undergarments here, but this silky jumper is lovely.  (Curious, that Roland's trousers have buttons for his braces, and yet he has none ... but he is apparently going for the louche Rupert-Brooke effect.)

Two more images of the garter-stitch beret, though rather less of that fancifully-embroidered slipover:

Harper's Bazaar has an interesting article about the film's costumes, including many photos.  I must admit that I rather lust after that black velvet hat ...

Knitting in the Movies (and TV): "Outlander"

There is a thread currently running in the Historic-Knitting Yahoo group, prompted when someone asked, "So, the 'Outlander' series -- is the knitting accurate?" and the numerous replies came back with a resounding "No!" 

The first photo (above) is a lovely look, with all of the soft greys, and the gown is pretty accurate, historically speaking, except that it probably should have a separate stomacher (instead of what is apparently all one piece), as well as at least a lace or linen "tuck" peeking out from the neckline. But knitted shawls didn't appear until the early 1800s (Shetland shawls in the 1830s) -- even though it seems not a far leap to us now, knitted garments remained pretty firmly in the region of caps, stockings, undershirts, and gloves until some decades into the 19th century.

Part of the problem here seems to be that the designer of the "Outlander" costumes, Terry Dresbach, quickly became self-defensive (and sarcastic) when others started questioning the historical accuracy of the knitted garments, and seemed to want to have it both ways when she said that her work is extensively researched and plausible if not authentic (e.g. the gowns are not hand-sewn, certain French fashions are apparently not documented in Scotland at the time but could have been there because of the close Franco-Scottish relationship, etc.), and that leeway was taken due to budget and time constrictions.  Those who are sticklers for historical accuracy -- which admittedly isn't always possible with costumes for either theatre or movies, for different reasons -- feel that Dresbach can't have it both ways.  It seems to me that with the sewn garments Dresbach has done a wonderful job in synthesizing the requirements of film and the historical record, but, surprisingly, then dropped the ball as to the knitwear.

The gist of the rebuttals on the Historic-Knitting list seems to be that the knitted garments are in styles that are not appropriate to the period, and far too coarse, when most knitting of the period was done on fine needles with fine wool, or by machine, except for a few items such as sailors' caps and seaboot stockings.

This garment, for example, is a fairly logical jump from "worn-out cloak cut down to a shoulder-warmer" to "knitted version of that", but I don't think there is any documentation that anything like this was ever knitted, in Scotland or anywhere, in the 18th century.  Claire is, however, obviously wearing appropriate stays, so kudos for that.

This looks very good on the face of it, especially because she is wearing a kerchief over her neck and bosom, and there is a lot of evidence for fingerless mitts of this kind -- just none of them knitted.  Again, it seems a short jump to us, especially when you know that knitted stockings were common, but at this period fingerless gloves were sewn out of fabric.

No, no, no.  The gown is very good, and is an excellent choice of colors, fabrics, and patterns (though I think the stomacher is too long), but the chunky knitted cowl practically shouts "late 20th-century!"

This cowl puzzles me, as I suspect that it is knitted, since fur wouldn't drape quite so beautifully (but then, I don't wear much fur, perhaps someone else could offer an opinion?).  This simplest kind of tubular knitted wrist-warmer did not make its first appearance until the beginning of the 19th century, and then was knitted with fine wool on small needles, not chunky stuff like this.  (We tend to think that Aran knitting, for example, has been around for centuries, but Aran jumpers were in fact invented around 1900.)  Again, the gown is very good -- and closes with pins, or perhaps hooks-and-eyes -- but not the knitting.

This is so obviously a modern shrug that I don't need to say anything.  Again, this gown is good, but she needs a kerchief over her bosom.

I'm a little perplexed by the fichu -- which to my eye looks exactly like a worn-out high-necked smock cut off and used as a fichu, an excellent and frugal use of worn-out garments.  Did it happen?  Maybe -- probably.  Is it accurate?  I don't know.  But the muffatees -- no.  The earliest known reference to knitted muffatees that I can find is 1813, when an officer in Wellington's Foot Guard wrote home asking for some; they were obviously being home-knitted by then, but again, that's at least fifty years after the "Outlander" series is set, and they would have been worked with finer wool on smaller needles than these, comfy and warm though these doubtless are.

Too chunky, and it's apparently not a flat piece of knitting, but shaped?

This looks so much like the shawl worn by Mrs. Forrester in "Cranford" that it's hard to believe it isn't the same one reused, but either way, "Cranford" was set in the 1840s when knitted shawls were starting to become more widely made at home.  The mitts almost work for this period.

Now if I were a cook wearing thick knitted wristwarmers, I would certainly do what Mrs. Fitz has done here, and turn them up out of the way, or they would look like the dog's breakfast after only a few minutes' of work, but if I really was a cook in the 1740s I would far more likely be wearing sewn woollen wristwarmers.

This is the only knitted garment I've seen that works in its historical period -- Claire in the 1940s wears a knitted slipover.  Lots of documentation for this, and any number of patterns still available.

I think, actually, that the problem resides not in Dresbach's choices as a costume designer, but in her insistence that the costumes -- that is, the costumes as a whole -- are historically accurate.  If she had said, which as far as I can tell she has not, that the "leeway" is specifically with the knitwear, then it would not be so jarring to those who never saw a Moebius cowl before Elizabeth Zimmermann's in 1983.

Knitting in the Movies: "Tell Them of Us"

Here is another picture-heavy post, hard on the heels of the last one, but at least this is about knitting!  I read just this morning about a small independent film in Britain, "Tell Them of Us", about a real Lincolnshire family, the Crowders of Thimbleby in Lincolnshire, during the Great War, a project inspired certainly by the centenary this year of the outbreak of that war.  The call went out for knitters to help recreate the wonderful amount of knitted garments the director wanted for the film, and Mary Lou of Yarnerinas was fortunate enough to have been part of the knitting team -- she tells a bit about the experience on her blog.

There is a book, called Centenary Stitches, available from Northern Lace Press, including "about 70" period patterns used in the film, rewritten for modern knitters.

Robert (played by Reece Ackerman) writing a letter, certainly with "comforts" received from his mother and sister at home, a warm knitted waistcoat and what is either a sock or a balaclava hanging on the X of the table leg.

A wonderfully jaunty ensemble, hat and matching scarf -- with pompoms! -- and the sailor's jumper.  Love the fluffy stripes on the collar!

Notice too the hap that the woman on the left is wearing, garter stitch with a simple lace edging.

Grace (played by Victoria Rigby) is wearing a wrap-around sleeveless jumper, a natural progression from the sontag of her grandmothers' generation.

A hug-me-tight, perhaps! and Mrs. Crowder has put down her knitting to read the letter.

The dark blue cardigan is almost exactly the same shape as the light blue one Grace wears above, but in a brioche stitch here, and with the front buttoned closed. 

Mary Lou admits to having knitted this cardigan, which she adapted from a photograph of the real Grace Crowder, as well as the camel-colored jumper below, which is from a 1912 "sport sweater" pattern.

Notice the wonderful assortment of knits here, from old-fashioned shawls to "modern" jumpers and hats.

I am sorry to say, though, that Robert Crowder was killed at Passchendaele in 1917.  The film was in fact inspired by the local memorial, and a window in the Thimbleby church which his family dedicated to his memory.

Thoughts on the Muffatees for Miss Pole

When I saw the "Muffatees for Miss Pole" by Mary Lycan in the preview for the January/February issue of Piecework, I was filled with a longing to knit them.  The fact that they are adapted from a period pattern and are named for a character in the delightful "Cranford" series only added to their charm for me.

These muffatees are worked in Appleton's crewel wool in no less than seven shades of rose pink, which I received very efficiently and cheerfully from Wool and Hoop --

-- and are worked on size 000 needles (1.5mm), I think -- because I don't have a needle gauge that goes that small!  (I had bought a packet of Boye steel "sock needles", four sets from 1.5 to 2.25mm mixed together, and had to peer closely for some time to decide which was which.)  It was rather strange, knitting with crewel wool; it is finer even than sock yarn, but the Appleton's at least is very springy, so that it does knit up pretty well.

I usually like tiny, fiddly crafts, and for the most part I enjoyed both this pattern and the scale, but I'm glad that it was a small project and quickly done.  The needles are small, the wool is small -- and prone to splitting -- I had to wear my extra-strong reading glasses simply to see what I was doing the whole time.

The only change I made in the pattern was very minor, casting off exclusively in purl instead of alternating at the tops of the ribs, as I don't much like that "chain" across the top from the knit-wise bind-off.  As it happens, the ruffle curled enough that I don't think it really matters which is used.  I don't think I really needed to use two needles to get a loose cast-on, either -- I used the Old Norwegian long-tail cast-on, and it probably would have been all right done with one needle.

I realized after joining the second shade of wool that I could simply splice in each new shade pretty much anywhere in the given round and it would hardly show, because each new shade was so similar to the last.  I alternated placing the splices either some ways before the beginning of the pattern round or some ways after it, so that the splices didn't "stack up".

It was very amusing to see the ruffle, having been splayed out around the four needles during knitting, ruffle itself as I cast off.

The modern pattern advises using a spice bottle to block the muffatee -- obviously you don't want to flatten out the ruffle unecessarily.  I tried a number of different objects from the kitchen cupboard -- Spice Island jars fit pretty well, but I felt a little dubious about putting wet wool on the paper label, for fear that something might transfer, ink or at the least paper gunk -- Morton Bassett's paper-labelless jars would have been all right, but seemed a bit big, and I didn't want to stretch out the rib at all, not knowing how the crewel wool would behave.  This is what I ended up with --

This pattern is originally from Jane Gaugain's The Knitter's Friend of 1846.  A muffatee (or as Mrs. Gaugain has it, muffetee) in its strictest definition is a step up from the simpler wrist-warmer, in that while being a plain tube it also has a thumb hole, so this particular one is perhaps not a muffatee as such, but this is a minor cavil as the ruffle certainly lends an air of elegance beyond the common sort (!).

Here is the original pattern, handsomely digitized for the Richard Rutt collection by the kind folks at the University of Southampton:

I haven't worked historical patterns from the original yet; our modern abbreviations seem a bit more obvious, but Mrs. Gaugain's are quite clear with her helpful key.  P = knit ("plain").  B = purl ("back").  O = yarn over.  OB = yo purl-wise ("by casting the thread quite round the wire").

The ruffle is very generous, which I think is not quite so obvious in the Piecework photographs.  In person it quite reminds me of an Elizabethan neck ruff.  Binding off that many stitches was tiresome in the extreme, but as I was of course watching "Cranford" while I knitted, this was not as much of a bother as it might have been.

I did run out of the last shade of wool barely halfway through the bind-off of the second muffatee, so knitter beware.  Fortunately, the next-to-last shade was almost indistinguishable, so I finished the bind-off with that, but of course I would much rather have been able to splice it in the body of the knitting -- I regret to say that I could not face picking it out to do this, not at this tiny scale.

The crewel wool is, by the way, rather itchy, so I would not advise it for someone who is especially sensitive to wool.

Of course, these being the Muffatees for Miss Pole, this is the perfect opportunity to do another instalment of my "Knitting in the Movies" series, and look at the knits in "Cranford", that wonderful adaptation of Mrs. Gaskell's Cranford books.  All of the pictures below are publicity photos except perhaps the second, but all are quite large, so you can click on them to see in great detail.

Mrs. Jamieson (Barbara Flynn), Miss Matilda Jenkyns (Judi Dench), Mrs. Forrester (Julia McKenzie), Miss Pole (Imelda Staunton), and Miss Tomkinson (Deborah Findlay), beautifully set off by the puffs of steam coming, one supposes, from the dreadful new steam engine.  Mrs. Forrester is wearing a garter-stitch shawl, a simple triangle with a knitted-in ruffle.  All of the ladies except Mrs. Jamieson -- who has no need to make knitted objects, of course -- are wearing mitts.  (Note that all of these have a single opening for the fingers and an open tube for the thumb, which I am assuming are more strictly mitts than muffatees.)  Miss Mattie has a very pretty pair with eyelet diamonds around the hand; Mrs. Forrester a pair in some kind of fancy rib, decorated with a little bow of ribbon; Miss Pole's are (perhaps unsurprisingly) rather fussy, with a band of eyelets at the wrist and garter bands now and then across the wide rib; Miss Tomkinson's appear to be in a brioche stitch with a band of ribbing to nip them in at the wrist, and are garnished with a little tassel.

Miss Mattie, Mary Smith (Lisa Dillon), and Miss Jenkyns (Eileen Atkins).  Here is a more detailed picture of Miss Mattie's pretty mitts.  Miss Jenkyns is also wearing a pair -- much simpler than her sister's, one suspects -- but with what appears to be a surprisingly frivolous tassel.

Miss Mattie, Mrs. Forrester, Miss Tomkinson, and Miss Pole, in somewhat finer weather than before, but still all equipped with their knitted mitts.

From the second series, "Return to Cranford," Lady Glenmire (Celia Imrie), Mrs. Jamieson, Miss Pole, Miss Tomkinson, Miss Mattie, Mary Smith, and Mrs. Forrester, just out of church, it seems.  Miss Mattie is wearing her knitted shawl, a rather smaller version of Mrs. Forrester's in grey wool; you can see here that Mrs. Forrester's is long enough to wrap around her waist and pin in the back, where Miss Mattie's is short enough for the ends to hang in front rather like a tippet.  Miss Pole, Miss Mattie, and Mrs. Forrester wear their knitted mitts; Miss Tomkinson probably does as well, though her hands cannot be seen here.

"Rescued by Rover"

This little gem -- "Rescued by Rover", a 1905 film by Cecil Hepworth -- was posted to the HistoricKnitting list recently, because of the hap shawl the beggar woman is wearing in the very first scene.  It is worth watching for that, although knitters might shed a tear over the ragged state of the shawl, but the whole thing is full of interesting details.  It's obviously a little moral lesson on the evils of smoking and hanging about with soldiers, as well as the evils of drink, and more positively on the benefits of having a family dog.

I love that the father puts on his topper before dashing out to follow Rover --

Many of the details are hilarious now -- that the maid pulls the baby carriage instead of pushes it (because of course if she did it properly she would see the beggar-woman snatching the baby), that both the dog and the father completely ignore the nearby bridge and instead either swim or row across the stream -- but imagine how amazing this would have been in 1905, to people who had literally never seen a moving-picture.  Apparently the film was so popular that not only did Hepworth (who played the father as well as directing) have to reshoot it twice because the negative actually wore out making so many copies, but it also started a trend for the name Rover for family dogs, and for canine movie stars such as Rin Tin Tin and Lassie.  (I wonder if the Lassie directors ever saw this.  "What is it, Lassie? Timmy fell down a well?!")

Here and There

I am currently in the middle of the Lacy Hug-Me-Tight from Tracey Ullmann's and Mel Clark's Knit Two Together.  I have at last got past the Rib of Eternity, and into the fussy bit -- ah me, ordinarily I like lace, and I like knitting lace, but I'm very tired lately, dragged down with an ear/sinus infection, so that it took me 45 minutes last night to do one 12-row repeat, as I kept knitting a row in a kind of stupor and coming out with the wrong number of stitches at the end and having to shake myself and unpick and recount, and in the end I just set it down thinking I might do some colorful fingerless mitts instead, or a sock.

Well, at least I have the liberty of knitting or not, of saying to myself, "oh, I'll just do something quick and pretty!" --

This is Michelle Williams and Shirley Henderson in a scene from "Meek's Cutoff", just out this month.  I've long been fascinated by the Oregon Trail, and this movie looks interesting because of that, because it gives more of a woman's perspective on the journey -- not just the adventure, the Indians, but the long hard slog, the difficulty of preparing meals for your family, of keeping them clean, keeping them safe.  The image has stayed with me for years of a rocking chair left behind at the side of the trail because the wagon is too heavy.

Recycled costume alert!

Jennifer Ehle as Mrs. Logue in "The King's Speech" (2010).

Geraldine McEwan as Miss Marple, with Joanna Lumley as Dolly Bantry in "The Body in the Library" (2004).

It shouldn't surprise me -- indeed, I am more amused than surprised -- that there is a website for recycled-costume spotters: Recycled Movie Costumes (the two pictures are from there).

I'm a bit late to the game on "The King's Speech" here, which I saw a few months ago and thought was absolutely wonderful.  Pooh to those who complain about its historical inaccuracies -- now, sometimes I complain with the best of them about historical inaccuracies in films, but this one I thought did a brilliant job of both compressing a long story and conveying the hard slog of the Duke of York's/George VI's treatment into a mere two hours.

I must admit that I'm rather biased -- George has long been perhaps my favorite of the English kings.  He took a bad situation and did a splendid job.  I always liked the anecdote of Elizabeth replying to someone who asked during the war if the little princesses would be evacuated from the bombing in London, "The children will not leave without me, I will not leave without the King, and the King will never leave."

Here is a clip from around 1938 showing the King making a speech to open the Empire Exhibition at Ibrox Park in Glasgow.  It is difficult not to feel for him from the very start, and to cheer him on in spirit.

THE KING'S SPEECH

Polar Knitting

I've had "The Last Place on Earth" in the DVD player this week, in the hopes that watching something really cold will make me forget how very hot it is outside. The added benefit of this series -- aside from the general polar-geekiness and the Norwegian accents, I mean -- is of course the knits!  I don't know that I've ever seen this much in one series.  Every knitter, I suppose, has moments of knitwear-spotting.  I thought it would be fun to post some of mine, and so here is the inaugural post on "Knitting in the Movies" --

Obviously any movie about Norwegians in cold weather is bound to include knitwear, and "The Last Place on Earth" is no exception.  There is a charming little farewell scene in which Betty, Amundsen's housekeeper and former nanny (played by Astrid Folstad) comes with a goodbye present for the expedition members, a generous basket of knitted socks.  I loved the little touch that the socks she has knitted for the men are thick, sturdy, sensible grey things, but at the bottom of the basket are these fabulous black-and-white ones for Amundsen himself.  It is times like these that you wish the character would stop and say, "Oh, Betty, how thoughtful!  Look, Leon, etc. etc. etc." and examine the socks for a minute or two.  This glimpse is tantalizing.

The scenes on the Fram itself offer the most opportunity for knitwear-spotting, as once the ship gets to the polar ice-pack it is cold enough for heavy wool but not so cold for the men to be in their full sealskin gear.  Here, in the scene where Amundsen (Sverre Anker Ousdal) informs the men of their "detour" to the South Pole instead of the planned trip to the North as they had intended, we get a sight of three sweaters at once.

Bjaaland (Ståle Bjørnhaug) has a wonderful red-and-black gansey, obviously handmade and well-worn.  It has a basic boat-neck opening, fairly roughly finished or mended, probably with crochet, and a plain ribbed waistband and sleeve cuffs in red.  The construction of this and the other garments in the series seem to be the standard Norwegian type, with the body knitted in the round and steeked for the sleeves.  The all-over pattern of Bjaaland's is fairly simple but has a nice little lines-and-zigs effect from a distance.

Stubberud (Hans Ola Sørlie) has on a typical Setesdal lusekofte that appears to be in fact an off-the-rack Dale.  It is rather unusual in not having the slit-neck and colorful embroidery of most Setesdal pullovers.

The "expedition sweater" for the series was obviously the one seen in this scene on both Johansen, in the background behind Bjaaland, and on Prestrud, beginning to appear as the camera pans to the right.

It has a two-colored version of the slants-and-sticks pattern so often found in Faroese sweaters, and a rounded neck with a slit at the front.  The one worn by Prestrud (Bjørn Skagestad) has a neck apparently bound with a narrow cream facing, but Johansen's looks slightly different.

Helmer Hanssen (Jan Hårstad) wears his in the ice-pack scenes and later in the near-disaster of the first attempt at the Pole.  You can see here that the waistband appears to be a simple rolled stockinette

Here it is again on Johansen (played with wonderful harsh dignity by Toralv Maurstad):

The same sweater pops up, interestingly, with a different neck treatment here on Beck (Erik Bye):

The expedition cook Lindström (Jon Eikemo) has a plain wide-ribbed grey pullover with a loose turtleneck, possibly machine-made, which I was -- considering the rivalry between the Norwegians and the British -- quite amused to see was exactly the same as one worn by a number of the British, here for instance by Oates (Richard Morant):

Who knows at this remove what was going on in the minds of the costume folks ("bloody hell, we forgot something for Lindström! here, we've got masses of these!").  Only a knitter would notice, I suppose.

Hassel (Erik Hivju, second from right) has the only textured sweater in the series, a heathered brown or olive-brown boatneck sweater that is, frustratingly, never seen quite clearly.  The one on Amundsen is my personal favorite, and not just because Sverre Anker Ousdal is wearing it.  (Yes, he really is a good half-head taller than the others.  So was Amundsen.)  I love the combination of smoky-grey and black, the simple all-over cross pattern with interesting shoulder detail. 

Am tempted now to pick up my own Norwegian gloves -- oh, if only there was a cool breeze!