Liz Taylor Moviethon

My eyes are about to explode. I have been staring at the computer since early morning. It's now evening. This will be barely coherent, but I wanted to share.

Why, oh why, have I neglected the Liz Taylor films? I mean, I'm kind of embarassed to admit I saw Cat on a Hot Tin Roof for the first time this weekend. It's such an excellent film.

Once, when I was 18, I was at a party and a man told me his theory about how some people were born to greatness, some were born to wealth, and some were just born to be gorgeous. Like that was their 'calling.' (Gag) Anyway, he used Elizabeth Taylor as an example of someone called to the altar of gorgeousness. He was wrong. I mean, she's gorgeous. But she's also a great actress. It's too bad she doesn't work any more. (She was awesome in Butterfield 8--I think it shows her range more than any of her other films. And I even loved Father of the Bride despite my feminist indignation).

Okay. Paul Newman. Lawdy, lawdy, lawdy. Those eyes. Those lips. Sigh. ...Oh and the acting is great too. But seriously, he's almost impossibly handsome. Ancient Greek sculptors would have given their left arms to sculpt him (making the sculpting very difficult...). If Taylor and Newman actually did reproduce (that's part of the story in Cat), the result would have been one whacked-out world-peace-inducing uber-gorgeous superhuman. Its unbearably beautiful blue-violet eyes would bore holes through solid steel. I'm afraid just thinking about it.

I loved Burl Ives as Big Daddy. And the actress (name escapes me) who played Big Mama. I want to strangle the brother and sister-in-law. Everyone's performance is fabulous, even the terrible 'no-neck' kiddies who are so good at being obnoxious that you really wonder what kind of adults they grew into. Somewhere, those kids are adults now, with kids of their own. Yikes.

Father of the Bride was very...1950. It's really amazing what a difference 50 years makes. This promotional movie poster on the left shows the father (Spencer Tracy) about to whack the bride (Liz Taylor) upside the head. Pretty funny, eh? Yeah, I'm not so hip to that whole 'whackin' the ladies is good comedy' part of that era either. There's also a disproportionate amount of gratuitous ass-slapping going on.

Still, I just can't get enough of the 50s/60s movies. I'm obsessed. The bonus with Cat is that the story, writing, acting, direction, is so fabulous that it's a treat all around. But even with the less perfect films of this era, you can always get lost in the cool sets (dig the jazzy colours and elegant minimalism, man) and the a-ma-zing costumes.

If you haven't seen Cat, don't be like me--don't wait. And please see Butterfield 8 and let me know what you think of the ending.