Tag Archives: elizabeth taylor

Revisting The White Cliffs of Dover (don’t forget the tissues).

Posted on by under maudlin mondays, melodrama, sarah's faves

The White Cliffs of Dover is a 1944 film starring Irene Dunne and Alan Marshal. This film shares the story of the life of an American woman living in England during both World War I and World War II.

Filming this flick must have been quite a challenge for the beautiful and talented Dunne, who was also starring in A Guy Named Joe simultaneously (production on Joe had been delayed due to that film’s star, Van Johnson, being seriously injured in a car accident–funnily enough, he recovered in time to play a supporting role opposite Dunne in this film, too!). Nonetheless, Dunne’s performance is flawless. One can’t help loving with her and grieving with her as she undergoes life’s trials. The movie is the very definition of star-studded, featuring a healthy mix of stars young (Elizabeth Taylor, Peter Lawford, Roddy McDowell, June Lockhart) and not-so-young (Dame May Whitty, Frank Morgan, C. Aubrey Smith, Gladys Cooper). Although sneered at by some critics for its rather forced political theme, this film was well-received in both the United States and England. I watched this movie years ago, but found it was even more charming and moving upon this second viewing.

The film starts with Susan (Dunne), a WWII nurse, anxiously staring out into the night from a hospital window. A fellow nurse comes in to bring her a welcomed cup of tea.

Margaret: “Why don’t you take your cap off and lie down for awhile?”

Susan: “We were told to stand by. There must be some very good reason. It helps to be doing something.”

Margaret: “You’re worried?”

Susan: “Who isn’t, nowadays?”

Margaret: “I thought your son was to stay the week with you?”

Susan: “He called to say his leave had been cancelled. I haven’t heard anything since. It’s been five days now. I’m terribly worried.”

Margaret: “So when we were told to stand by for emergency, you made up your mind he’d be in the thick of it?”

Susan: “Yes, Margaret, I’m afraid I did.”

Margaret: “Well, you can be wrong, you know. I hope you are. Do try and rest.”

The hospital receives a message from the surgeon general that an expected 5,000 casualties will be arriving within 24 hours. Susan is terrified that her son will be among them. As she thinks about how this came to be, we are taken to a flashback of when Susan first came to England. As a young woman, she arrived on a boat from America with her ornery father, a newspaper man. Susan is obviously excited. She has never traveled before, and she is enthralled by the history that England offers. Hiram Dunn (Frank Morgan), Susan’s father, is a rather spirited (grumpy) man. He constantly complains about the rain and chill: “It’ll be like this the whole time we’re in England!” Unfortunately for him, he becomes ill for the entire two weeks that they are to stay in England. Susan is unable to see much of the country, but she is thrilled when she is invited to a ball on the last night of their stay. A friendly elderly man invites her to join him, and he even goes so far as to hunt for a young man for her to dance with. He makes a smashing choice in the dashing young Sir John Ashwood (Marshal). Sir John is immediately taken by Susan the moment he sees her. They spend the evening dancing and talking in the moonlight.

John begs her to stay in England for longer, but she tells him that she must return with her father. While Susan and her father are packing to leave, Sir John arrives at their boarding house to ask her father’s permission for Susan to stay behind. At first, her father is very protective and against the idea; however, John is extremely persuasive and persistent. Susan spends a week with Sir John and his aristocratic family. They take long walks in the gardens and spend time getting to know each other. One night, while Sir John is showing Susan the family portraits, he points out an open space for the portrait of his future wife.

Susan: “You must have often wondered what she’d be like.”

John: “Yes, I have, until a few days ago. Then, I began to hope she’d be tall and fair, with a mind of her own, and that when my great-grandson showed visitors her portrait, he’d say, ‘This is my great-grandmother. Lovely, isn’t she? She was an American.’”

Susan: “John …”

John: “You must’ve known. I’ve been out of my mind since I first saw you in the Adam Room. I meant to wait, give you more time, but it’s out now … Don’t say no, Sue. If you can’t give me the right answer, pretend I haven’t spoken.”

Susan: “May I do that John, for these few days? I don’t want to make decisions; I just want to live and be happy.”

John: “You are happy, Sue, happy here?”

Susan: “When we are together, yes, when we are alone.”

John: “What does that mean?”

Susan: “Please don’t ask me. It’s just that, it’s all so strange, this place, your family.”

Susan is correct in her perception of tension within the family. While Susan and John are quite busy falling in love, his family is not pleased with their courtship. Even though they are clearly aware that Susan and John are interested in each other, they speak openly in front of her of their wish for John and family friend Helen to marry. Susan feels this tension and lashes out against them. Her outburst seems to make them feel guilty and treat her kindly: “It’s a compliment not to be like an American? How insulting! … I came here loving England and all it meant to me. I was happy to come here, I was so sure I would like you all because of John. I hoped you would like me. But I was an outsider, I didn’t belong. You made that perfectly clear!”

Ahh, young love.

Although the family apologizes, Susan is utterly embarrassed at her outburst. She leaves a goodbye message for Sir John and leaves on the morning train. When she gets off the train to find her boat, she is surprised to find John waiting for her. She tries to argue with him that she should return to America, but once again, he is quite persistent. He talks her into marrying him, and they seem quite happy.

Unfortunately, the happiness is short-lived. On their honeymoon, they learn that England has gone to war. Because it is tradition in the Ashwood family that the males join the military, John learns that he must go to war, almost immediately. The couple is separated for three years while John fights in WWI with his regiment. Susan lives in a constant state of fear while John is away. She worries from day to day that he may never return. When she visits him in France, they stay at a hotel with a beautiful, quaint bandstand visible from their balcony overlooking the sea.

It is on this visit that she becomes pregnant with their son, whom they name John, even though it goes against the Ashwood family tradition of naming the first male Percy. Unfortunately, when baby John is only an infant, his father is killed in action. Susan is devastated, and ignores her mother-in-law who tries to convince her to go on with her life.

“Enough happiness to last us the rest of our lives …”

When young John grows a little older, Susan attempts to move with him back to America so that he will not go into England’s military as his father had done. She tells her mother-in-law that she will teach her son to run when he hears cannons so that he will not die as his father had. Young Sir John is much like his father, however, and persuades his mother to stay and allow him to continue the Ashwood family traditions. This scene is especially heartbreaking, as we know from the beginning of the film that he does end up in harm’s way as a soldier in WWII.

This film is heartbreaking. We watch as Susan grows from a carefree young woman in love to a grieving widow, scared of also losing her only son. This film is about family. It is about the most important parts of our lives, and it is about the tragedy of war and dying young. It brings out our greatest fears of losing those that we love the most.

 

The White Cliffs of Dover is definitely a five on the “Maudlin Meter” tear scale!

“Wouldn’t that be nice, a lifetime full of last days?”

Posted on by under blogathon, LAMB, lit adaptations

The Last Time I Saw Paris (1954) is based on a 1931 short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald called “Babylon Revisited.” Fitzgerald’s often-anthologized story, with its dark themes of disillusionment and self-imposed alienation, is  a seminal work of American modernism. However, it loses something in its translation to the screen. As with many literary adaptations in Production Code-controlled Hollywood, the story’s rather bleak message is lost in the wake of multiple changes to the original material, resulting in a generally ineffective film.

The bulk of the film is structured as a flashback, framed by two relatively short scenes in the present day. As the movie begins, Charles Wills (Van Johnson), an American writer, has traveled to Paris to see his daughter, Vicki. We are then transported back to 1945, as Charles, then a journalist and aspiring novelist, joins in the celebrations of V-E Day. He meets a young American woman, Marion Elliswirth (Donna Reed), who instantly falls in love with him. She takes him to a party at her home, hosted by her gregarious father, James (Walter Pidgeon). There, he meets Helen (Elizabeth Taylor), Marion’s beautiful younger sister, and much to Marion’s jealous displeasure, Charles and Helen become smitten with one another, eventually marrying. But their marriage is fraught with difficulty—initially, Charles wants to return to America, but Helen revels in the Parisian lifestyle and insists on staying. As the years pass, both Charles and Helen flirt with the idea of engaging in affairs on the side, and their attitudes reverse: Helen slowly becomes disillusioned with the frivolity of their lives, while Charles becomes more enmeshed in the decadence. Inevitably, tragedy follows, as Charles’ irresponsibility leads to his losing the most important people in his life.

I first saw this movie in an American lit class as an undergrad. Honestly, I think the professor’s reason for showing the film was merely an excuse to get out of lecturing for a couple of days, because the transfer from story to film is clunky, at best, and adds little to an understanding of the story’s broader themes. In large part, this is due to the filmmakers’ decision to move the action from the early 1930s to the 1950s. Fitzgerald’s story is awash in the post-Jazz Age period, and part of the story involves Charles’ rejection and repudiation of the excesses of that time period—excesses in which he and Helen indulged wholeheartedly. In that respect, Charles is a stand-in for the author, who uses the story to reflect on the irreparable damage of self-indulgent behavior.

But moving the film ahead two decades tempers the impact of Fitzgerald’s message. In general, the post-World War II era was a relatively hopeful time, in sharp contrast to the ennui that defined the post-World War I time period. The characters’ actions and lifestyle seem out of place as they are situated in the film. Additionally, the change to the ending marks an abrupt shift in tone. Whereas the story ends with Charles being stymied yet again in his attempt to gain custody of his daughter (called “Honoria” in Fitzgerald’s work), the movie tacks on a happy ending that belies the despairing tone of “Babylon Revisited.”

The cast is, by and large, better than the material they have been given. Johnson, who is not a particularly strong dramatic actor, nonetheless handles himself relatively well as Charles, ably capturing the character’s bitterness and self-destructive qualities (though his best scenes are the lighter ones, particularly during his early romance with Helen). But though Charles is the protagonist and ostensibly the central figure of the story, Taylor is the undisputed focus of the film. Only twenty-two at the time, she had already been a prominent figure in Hollywood for a decade, successfully graduating from childhood roles such as her breakthrough performance in 1944′s National Velvet, and moving into adult parts with the popularity of 1950′s Father of the Bride and 1951′s A Place in the Sun. As Helen, Taylor perfectly portrays the character’s growth throughout the film, from her vivacious and charming youth through her development into a despairing and world-weary woman. It’s a solid performance from the young actress, who reveled in the chance to further separate herself from the innocent roles of her early career.

The supporting cast is just as solid. Reed is quietly effective in her underwritten role as the jealous Marion, giving yet another moving, dramatic performance in the vein of her Oscar-winning role in the previous year’s From Here to Eternity. Pidgeon, in the midst of a long career that had begun in silent film, is a welcome authoritative presence. And look for Eva Gabor and Roger Moore in supporting roles as Charles’ and Helen’s would-be lovers.

In the end, despite the best efforts of a talented cast, the movie adaptation simply does not capture the hopeless verve of Fitzgerald’s brilliant story. And it’s a shame, considering that the film treatment was penned by Julius and Philip Epstein, who were responsible for one of the best scripts ever written (1942′s Casablanca). The sense of futility and despondency that permeates “Babylon Revisited” is replaced by pure sentiment, marked by the addition of a feel-good, Hollywood-crafted happily-ever-after, and ultimately, this watered-down story of loss and redemption just rings false.

This movie is in the public domain, which means that a multitude of cheaply-produced DVD versions of this film are floating around out there. My own copy comes from an inexpensive collection of other public domain films including 1934′s Of Human Bondage and 1936′s My Man Godfrey (the collection was a gift, and I don’t really recommend it—the quality of each DVD print is not all that great). Paris is also available for download for free on several sites including the Internet Archive, so if you’re interested in seeing this film for yourself, it’s readily available!

“Of course I’m going to win … I just arranged it with God.”

Posted on by under blogathon, carrie's faves, LAMB, lit adaptations

A version of this post originally appeared as a part of our series of Summer Under the Stars recommendations in August 2010. It’s being reprinted here as part of the LAMB’s “Acting School 101” tribute to Elizabeth Taylor.

Growing up with horses, it’s probably a given that I should be a fan of National Velvet (1944), which is one of the many classic stories (based on the novel by the same name) about a girl and the horse she loves. Moreover, this film includes a great cast, also including Angela Lansbury and Mickey Rooney. Velvet (Taylor) lives with her family, who are hardly wealthy but not destitute. While her elder sister (played by a young Lansbury) is mooning over boys, Velvet moons over a particular horse who tends to break free from his pasture by jumping over the fence—effortlessly. Through a curious twist of fate and a lot of devotion to the horse, Velvet manages to get him for her own. She and Piebald could live happily ever after from there, but there’s more.

Because Pie is so talented, Velvet decides he should steeplechase (horse-racing crossed with jumping. Very exciting. Very fast. Very demanding. Very dangerous. Only performed by men. You get the idea) and that he could win. She encourages a traveling gambler and swindler (and former jockey), Mi Taylor, played by Rooney, to help her train Pie for racing. With more heart and determination than anything else, she manages to scrape together the entrance fee and gets Pie to the track.

Unfortunately, they are met with more challenges as their jockey turns out to be unacceptable, as he doesn’t believe in Pie the way that Velvet does. Never quitting, Velvet decides to ride, disguised as a young man. In the interest of avoiding spoilers, I won’t give away the ending, but suffice it to say that Velvet’s true-blue belief in The Pie is far from misguided.

Elizabeth Taylor is endearing as the dreamy-eyed, innocent, yet determined Velvet Brown. This is the role that would make her a star, and the young actress fought hard for the part. Taylor had been riding since she was a girl, so she does many of her own riding scenes, which adds to the authenticity of the film. It’s a great movie, a great family movie, and definitely a great choice for animal people and especially “horse people.” Velvet also displays the  big dreams that are often associated childhood, but combines them with hard work and undying determination, and Elizabeth Taylor gives Velvet a great human appeal.

If you’re looking for an entertaining film with a lot of heart, you can’t go wrong with Velvet.

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to say, Martha.”

Posted on by under 4-star films, blogathon, from stage to screen, LAMB, lit adaptations

A version of this post originally appeared as a part of our series of Summer Under the Stars recommendations in August 2010. It’s being reprinted here as part of the LAMB’s “Acting School 101” tribute to Elizabeth Taylor.

Elizabeth Taylor: one of the most gorgeous, appealingly talented actresses to emerge from classic Hollywood … the epitome of class, grace, and smoldering sensuality.

Well, except in this movie.

In 1966′s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, based on the play by Edward Albee, Taylor and perennial on-screen partner (and two-time husband) Richard Burton play a viciously combative couple—he a professor of history, she the daughter of the university president. Martha is a drunkard who constantly belittles George (but lest you feel sorry for him, he dishes it right back). In the midst of their marital battles, Martha invites a young couple, Nick and Honey (George Segal and Sandy Dennis), to join them late one evening for cocktails. The ensuing night brings forth disturbing revelations, violent outbursts, and heartbreaking truths from all four characters.

Taylor is ferocious in the role. There’s really no other word for it. She throws her entire being into this character, wrestles it down to the ground, and emerges victorious. It’s a triumph—arguably the best role of her career, and one for which she deservedly won her second Academy Award for Best Actress.

And it’s a role for which virtually no one thought she was suited, given her screen persona as one of the most beautiful women in the world. Martha, the shrewish, homely, fifty-something hausfrau, was a role originally intended for Bette Davis, but the box-office draw of Taylor’s name ultimately won her the part. Taylor gained thirty pounds and thoroughly transformed herself, ultimately winning the respect of the original play’s author, Albee, who had championed Davis for the part.

Burton and Taylor’s romance was legendary in Hollywood, not only because of their heated passion (so evident in their first pairing, the so-bad-it’s-good 1962 epic Cleopatra), but because of the contentious nature of their union. By all accounts, the two of them fought constantly over even the smallest of issues (and some of the biggest, too—as with Burton’s purported infidelity). At the time Taylor and Burton fell in love, each was married to another—Taylor to fourth husband Eddie Fisher, whom she had “stolen” from Debbie Reynolds five years prior (creating quite the scandal). After leaving their respective spouses, Burton and Taylor tied the knot in 1964, but divorced ten years later. In 1975, they gave marriage another shot, only to separate again nine months later.

Over the years, many a critic has claimed that the effectiveness of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? owes a great deal to the antagonistic relationship between its two stars, postulating that George and Martha’s relationship is an uncomfortably accurate mirror of the real-life relationship between Taylor and Burton. And it’s an easy assumption to make. But to give credence to such a theory belies the immense talent and hard work that so obviously went into each actor’s characterization of their respective role. There’s much more at work in this film than merely reflecting reality. Besides, that would make it much too easy for the couple, and nothing about this film or their performances screams “easy.”

This was the first film in Hollywood history for which all of its credited actors—all four of them—were nominated for acting awards, and the two women won (Taylor for Best Actress, Dennis for Best Supporting Actress).

If you’re feeling up for two hours of pure dysfunction, this is the movie for you. In all seriousness, it is a marvelously staged, thought-provoking film that may just have you questioning the own secrets in your life and your relationships. At the very least, the denouement of this movie will leave you feeling introspective, and maybe a little exhausted—just watching the interplay between these characters is an emotional upheaval of the highest degree.

Therein lies the beauty of Albee, and the strength of Taylor’s tour de force performance.

What is the victory of a cat on a hot tin roof?

Posted on by under 3-star films, blogathon, from stage to screen, LAMB, lit adaptations

A version of this post originally appeared as a part of our series of Summer Under the Stars recommendations in August 2010. It’s being reprinted here as part of the LAMB’s “Acting School 101” tribute to Elizabeth Taylor.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof  (1958) is based on a play by Mississippi-born playwright extraordinaire, Tennessee Williams. The story centers around dysfunctional couple Brick and Maggie (also called “Maggie the Cat”), whose marriage has crumbled because of a betrayal on Maggie’s part. Brick has succumbed to the lure of alcohol while mourning the recent suicide of his best friend, Skipper—a relationship that both Maggie and Brick’s father (“Big Daddy”) question as having been more amorous than friendly. As the members of the family fight over the inheritance of their dying patriarch, Maggie fights for a toehold in her relationship with Brick while trying to ensure Brick receives the bulk of the inheritance.

Williams was born in the town of Columbus, Mississippi, which also happens to be home to the first state-supported college established for women in the United States. That wonderful school, Mississippi University for Women, is the lovely alma mater of all three True Classics bloggers.

The Tennessee Williams birthplace, prior to its renovation last year.

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve driven past Williams’ birthplace, which sits on Main Street in downtown Columbus and serves as the welcome center for the city (it always makes me smile, because seeing that house, in a sense, is like a big ol’ “welcome home”). I have spent time sitting on his porch, watching the traffic go by. And I have repeatedly marveled at the fact that a city that once shunned its connection to the overtly homosexual Williams and his scandalous, outrageous body of work has now so thoroughly embraced the man that an entire week in September is dedicated to his memory and his work every year.

The play Cat on a Hot Tin Roof won the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 1955 and premiered on Broadway that same year. The play was both celebrated and reviled for its frank depiction of homosexual lust and its blatant sexism in regards to the character of Maggie. Williams possessed a gift for honestly portraying some of the less attractive aspects of humanity (see also Stanley in A Streetcar Named Desire, or Violet in Suddenly, Last Summer), and in Cat, he constructs one of the most mendacious families to ever appear in literature. In the Pollitt family, everyone lies to everyone else, every person lies to him or herself, and truth is a commodity that no one seems to think even exists.

Yet, of course, when the play was adapted for the screen, changes were made to diminish nearly all of the references to homosexuality and sexual frustration per the rules of the Production Code, and the portrayal of some characters (particularly that of Brick and Maggie) was softened to make the characters seem more sympathetic to the audience. And in the end, the movie version suffers from those changes, because the searing intent of the original material was lost. In fact, Williams hated this film version so much that he actively encouraged people not to see it. It’s easy to see why the movie drew such pique from the playwright: Williams’ commentary on the destructiveness of homophobia and sexual suppression in American society is completely lost in the film’s sanitized, benign approach to the original material.

In this film version, Brick is played by Paul Newman, and this performance earned him his first Academy Award nomination (he would later win Best Actor for 1986′s The Color of Money). Newman portrays Brick with a barely-leased sensuality that ultimately works well for the character. His interactions with Elizabeth Taylor, who plays Maggie, provide some of the best moments of the film, particularly when he is rejecting her advances outright—he makes it seem like the most natural thing in the world to rebuff your beautiful wife when she’s offering herself to you without reservation. Marvel at the restraint.

For her part, Taylor delivers one of the strongest performances of her career as Maggie, brilliantly moving from bewildered hurt to strong-willed determination almost seamlessly (Taylor, too, was nominated for an Oscar for her performance–she would win her two statues a few years later, first for 1960′s Butterfield 8 and later for her monumental performance in 1966′s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?). Taylor fully embodies Maggie, who is, to say the least, a difficult dramatic character to play, and she makes her real without engaging in histrionics (which, let’s face it, would be an easy thing to do with this material).

The supporting cast features excellent turns by Burl Ives as Big Daddy and Judith Anderson (so chillingly perfect as Mrs. Danvers in 1940′s Rebecca) as Big Mama. Jack Carson effectively steps out of his typical buddy-sidekick roles as Brick’s brother, Gooper, and Madeleine Sherwood is appropriately annoying as Gooper’s greedy (and perennially pregnant) wife, Mae.

Though it is far from loyal to the original text, the movie is nonetheless entertaining on its own merits. And though Williams will likely roll over in his grave at any indication of approval, we do suggest you give it a shot. At the very least, you can stare at Paul Newman’s gorgeous mug for two hours. Let’s face it … there are worse ways to spend your time.

Therapy Thursday: Suddenly, Last Summer

Posted on by under carrie's faves, from stage to screen, lit adaptations, therapy thursdays

As I mentioned yesterday, today’s Therapy Thursday post will showcase Suddenly, Last Summer, with Katharine Hepburn and Elizabeth Taylor.  Oddly, I haven’t been able to come up with a good topic for this series in weeks upon weeks … I just had nothing. Then, yesterday, doing a brief tribute to Elizabeth Taylor, this movie came to mind and it was an obvious choice. It’s a great topic for this series, but the universe is an odd place, and this timing is better than had I done it earlier anyway. Now to the point.

Suddenly, Last Summer is adapted from the play by Tennessee Williams. I actually saw the play staged before I saw this movie. While I don’t typically find a filmed version of a play or book an improvement, this is one of the seldom exceptions. They add to the play significantly, but it really adds something to it. Should it have been done this way on stage? Probably not. The film had some acting talent  we seldom see, and the cast combination was pure magic. While on stage, the point of view is a little ambiguous: we clearly should identify with Dr. Cukrowicz (Montgomery Clift); as we meet Mrs. Violet Venable (Hepburn), we would probably identify with him, even if he had been poorly portrayed. However, this is not the case. Clift plays a rather good role as Dr. Cukrowicz.

Meeting with Catherine

Listening to Ms. Violet is quite the experience. At first, we see eccentric and aristocratic, but the more we listen, we can develop an idea of how completely insane she is. Her speech is kind of linear, and yet, not remotely linear. Before long, we begin to think “delusion,” perhaps. She explains to Dr. Cukrowicz that Catherine Holly (Liz Taylor) is insane, and she wants her to have a lobotomy (eerily, this sort of thing is true to life–some family members would push for lobotomies of other family members, for various reasons). The more Ms. Violet talks and tells her story, the more the careful ear can pick up that she and George Holly had had an enmeshed relationship; that she is very controlling–and not just with her money; that she creates her world purely as she wants it; that she is manipulative, and frankly, is good at what she does. Somewhere midway, I felt afraid … she was scary. Now, later scenes are more designed to be frightening and make the film a thriller, in the sense we usually consider. However, I personally found her much more frightening than the more visual scary scenes.

She sets us up beautifully for the second section of the movie as well. Her story is full of facts and plausiblilities, but her telling of it is so weird, so odd, so circular, and yet so convinced that we are willing to believe Catherine’s story, with its outrageous sounding content, because she tells the story in an actual line. If we were to simply look at the content, of course Catherine is insane–it’s an outlandish story.

And so, we meet with Catherine. In the play, this mostly is a single scene, but it’s expanded and spread out in the film a little more. We get an interesting picture of the hospital, the structure of the mental health system, and the idea of lobotomy. Elizabeth Taylor did an amazing job throughout this entire process; however, I am going to emphasize her telling of her own story (the part that is crucial in the play as well).  As the film progresses, we identify more with Dr. Cukrowicz, and we want to do so. He’s endearing, and Violet is scary. But then something happens “suddenly”–we identify with Catherine. This is unusual in film–usually point of view is pretty consistent, but here we make a massive switch. Elizabeth Taylor’s performance certainly convinces us, the audience, that she is traumatized–we’d expect nothing less, but she goes further than that. She pulls us into her character, and from nowhere, we now identify with Catherine, and hope that Dr. Cukrowicz will help her out. When I watched this the first time, her artistry with the scene, particularly her amazing monologue (I looked for it on YouTube, but didn’t have much luck) and thought, “Wow.”  It was easy to appreciate as a great scene, but when I looked at it some more, I began to realize how completely brilliant is really was. She doesn’t stop at convincing the audience, but involves them (and of course, we believe her story, which we normally … wouldn’t. Clearly, she’s the truthful one, and completely traumatized by actual events, and possibly this crazy Violet woman). That is what I believe they mean when they say “movie magic.”

Why do I love this movie? It’s not a happy one, that’s for sure. The basic “psychology” of it is interesting and fairly well done. Typically, that’s what I talk about in this series. But this film is rare in the way it involves the audience, pulling them into the family, into the insanity, and making them players, too. That is the work of brilliant acting. Then, for me, the roles of both of the primary women in the film fit real family dynamics so perfectly that I’m in awe. It’s simply impressive, and there’s no other way to put it.

Remembering Elizabeth Taylor.

Posted on by under remembering

True Classics is saddened to hear of the death of Elizabeth Taylor, age 79.  She was extraordinarily famous for her personal life, as well as her acting. Sometimes, it may have even seemed that her larger-than-life persona overshadowed her talent, but her talent was considerable. She made numerous famous movies, including Cleopatra, Father of the Bride, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Butterfield 8, and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

One of my personal favourites (which I have already reviewed on this blog) is National Velvet, where she plays a young girl who adores a horse. She takes the horse (The Pie) to a very prestigious steeplechase, and becomes his jockey (girls were not jockeys). She catapults to national fame as a brave young girl who loves her horse. Her performance in this film was innocent, endearing, and genuine. Not only did she capture the rapturous adoration a young girl can have for a horse, but the nature of a girl growing up in a small area, her perceptions of the world, and her grand dreams.

On the other side, she had a stellar performance in Suddenly, Last Summer– a performance many may not often consider. The next Therapy Thursday post will review this film in more detail, but for now, I’d like to mention how compelling her role was.  She plays the widowed wife of the son in question (with Katharine Hepburn playing the mother). She’s fairly quiet throughout much of the film, as it focuses more on the mother’s version of the truth, but later, we see her in her full glory, particularly in her monologue. Finally, she is asked what happened on that fateful day, and she relates the story in an incredibly portrayed monologue. You see the full range of emotion, her impeccable tone as she remembers the story. It’s one of the best film monologues, although it may not come to mind as quickly as some more famous scenes–and it’s a crucial piece for the plot, so her selling it so brilliantly makes it an incredible adaptation of the Tennessee Williams play.

We wish you peace, Ms. Taylor.

–Carrie

RIP Eddie Fisher.

Posted on by under remembering

Pop singer and occasional classic movie actor Eddie Fisher has passed away at the age of 82.

Perhaps best known today as the father of Star Wars actress and snark-tastic writer Carrie Fisher and television stalwart Joely Fisher, Eddie Fisher was one of the most popular singers of the 1950s. His marriage to Debbie Reynolds was one of the most celebrated unions in Hollywood history–they were considered America’s sweethearts, a paragon of marital bliss … until 1959, when Fisher left Reynolds for a recently-widowed Elizabeth Taylor, a scandal the likes of which Hollywood had rarely seen. Carrie Fisher once referred to the breakup of her parents’ marriage as the original Jennifer Aniston-Brad Pitt-Angelina Jolie-esque triangle, and it’s a fitting comparison. Much like Aniston today, Reynolds became even more popular in the wake of her “abandonment.” But unlike Pitt’s continued influence and success, Fisher’s career never fully recovered from the scandal.

It’s somewhat sad that Fisher will likely always be remembered more for his personal trials than his talents. He was, all things considered, an engaging singer and musical performer.

Acting-wise, Fisher’s career never really took off. He only appeared in two major roles on the big screen, playing opposite one of his wives in each of them.

His role in 1956′s Bundle of Joy, the musical remake of the marvelous 1939 Ginger Rogers vehicle Bachelor Mother, is perhaps his most charming, though  somewhat stilted. Fisher takes over David Niven’s role in the original, playing the wealthy heir who falls for Reynolds’ suddenly-maternal shop clerk. The film is a trifle, with Reynolds giving a typically energetic and adorable performance and Fisher looking uncomfortable and slightly terrified at times. But he comes alive in his musical numbers, and in these, it’s easy to see his initial appeal to mid-century moviegoers.

A bit of trivia: while making the film, Reynolds was pregnant with Carrie, the couple’s first child.

His other acting performance of note, in 1960′s BUtterfield 8, finds Fisher playing opposite new wife Taylor in the role of Steve, the piano-playing childhood friend of Taylor’s Gloria, a promiscuous, doomed young woman engaging in multiple love affairs (essentially, a call girl, though the Code required this title be altered to “model”). The role provides Fisher the chance to explore dramatic talents, but he is merely competent in the role and ultimately received harsh criticism for his performance.

Fisher’s musical career, however, endured through the 1960s, and he is still remembered today for some of his great performances, including a fantastic cover of “Sunrise, Sunset” from Fiddler on the Roof, a song for which Fisher introduced the first commercial recording.

On Twitter today, Carrie Fisher briefly eulogized her father: “My Puff Daddy passed away Wednesday night due to complications following his hip surgery. He was an extraordinary talent and a true mensch.”