When it comes to awards shows, period pieces typically dominate costume nods. Thankfully, for the last 10 years, the Emmys have given present-day fashions a place to shine with its Outstanding Contemporary Costumes category—and praise be, for two years in a row, The Righteous Gemstones has received nominations. But even in this camp, Gemstones is an oddball. Up against Hacks, The Studio, Emily In Paris, and The White Lotus, The Righteous Gemstones might as well be a foreign film compared to the looks the largely Angeleno voting bloc sees on Vegas weekends, tropical vacations, and at their kids’ boarding schools. But it’s not just a culture clash that helps Gemstones stand apart. In every scene, the costumes serve the show’s sense of humor by adding specificity to broad characters. In a TV landscape where the most acclaimed comedies are debatably not funny, The Righteous Gemstones ensures there is no question. And the series doesn’t just offer characterization through its outfits; they also delivers some of its biggest laughs.
Costume designer Christina Flannery has been in charge of the Gemstone closet since season three. Emmy voters didn’t give her the gold last year, presumably because HBO failed to submit the episode where Baby Billy wears a clamshell. Big mistake. This year, along with costume supervisor Elizabeth Tagg, assistant costume designer Maura “Maude” Cusick, and head of workroom Aughra Moon, Flannery is nominated for the season’s second episode, “You Hurled Me Into The Very Heart Of The Seas,” one of the year’s funniest. Following the Civil War-era season premiere (shout-out to the show’s incredible period clothing, too, in that and “Interlude IV“), Flannery hurtles the audience into the present with Baby Billy rehearsing for the Aimee Leigh telethon in a getup that filters the gospel through The Brady Bunch Hour. His purple and gold ruffled shirt, exposed by his point collar-shoulder pad combo, makes him look like a chintzy golden god for the Gemstone faithful to worship. The Gemstones present themselves as the exemplification of God’s love. The logic is simple: They must be the Lord’s favorite because they’re the only ones with jetpacks.
Their stage costumes are predictably excellent—hilariously impractical and reminiscent of Elvis Presley’s Vegas version of Southern royalty—and so are the lengths the crew goes to imagine how the Gemstones would dress on a boat. When Judy (Edi Patterson), Jesse (Danny McBride), and Kelvin (Adam DeVine) confront their daddy (John Goodman) during his Floridian escape, the siblings’ carefully coordinated costumes reveal the family’s status and how they use their clothes to present a unified front. They wear a matching set of vintage-inspired yachting costumes that correspond with each Gemstone’s preferred aesthetics. Somehow Jesse found a water-ready Canadian tuxedo, but the devil is in the details. The longer you stare at their outfits, the small touches stand out, like the siblings’ matching brooches and the red ship wheels embroidered on Judy’s white gloves. (Why is she even wearing gloves?) This early scene exemplifies how the costumes heighten the jokes, as Judy’s immature tantrum is made all the funnier when she’s dressed like a sea-ready Little Lord Fauntleroy.
Photo: Jake Giles Netter/HBO
The specifics of their looks reveal a great deal about these people and what they want. Jesse hopes to project family solidarity via the cream-colored coordination of his PrayerPod infomercial. Despite the ad’s reverent minimalism, Flannery highlights the family members’ distinct personalities with Jesse’s shiny tan suit and Pontius’ Converse All-Stars (a half-hearted stab at rebellion).
Gemstones makes minor accessories funny and expressive character choices, too. For example, BJ’s dry-fit pole dancing gear gets a touch of realism through his compression sleeve. The sleeve is a common sight in a mall pole dancing class and reveals how much effort BJ has been putting into this—long enough to notice that grinding on a metal pole enflames his tennis elbow. It makes him seem like a person who exists off-camera. This extends to background players, too. Kelvin’s PRISM ensemble showcases how he and Keefe have built a community around their often-confusing sexual fluidity, with a crowd made up of followers inspired by RuPaul’s Drag Race and The Sims. All together, these specific sartorial details create a unified world for the just-as-loud Gemstones to occupy.
More than anything, these costume choices comment on the prosperity gospel of megachurch preachers. Like the millionaire men of God before them, be they Joel Osteen or Carl Lentz or Creflo Dollar, the Gemstones wear His blessings on their sleeves. And whether that’s to appeal to older Southern Baptists or Zoomers who think church is cheugy, the Gemstones, individually and together, make a mockery of the church’s attempts to appear aspirational by humiliating themselves in gaudy, overpriced duds. A lot of thought went into making these Gemstones sparkle—and some much-deserved awards bling couldn’t hurt.
