Elizabeth Taylor
Such drama.
It was a life lived in the public eye; she barely had a childhood. Decade after decade her every movement was photographed and scrutinized with the fanatic effort used to decipher the Rosetta Stone. There were dagger columns by Hedda Hopper and Louellea Parsons. When Life magazine featured her on the cover the issue sold-out. When Elizabeth gained weight the public worried. When she shed pounds the public—and the studios—sighed with relief. And when husband #3 Mike Todd, real name Avrom Hirsch Goldbogen, perished in a plane crash, fans grieved with Elizabeth, mentally sitting shiva with their tragic heroine.
There were eight marriages—twice to Richard Burton—passionate affairs, public adulteries, and of course there were addictions to pills and booze, five broken backs, a tracheotomy, hip replacements, cancer, drug rehab, more rehab, slabs of jewelry, and with metronomic regularity, nervous collapses.
Elizabeth Taylor was a true Hollywood star.
The last genuine movie star.
Now, we endure a parade of interchangeable, smaller-than-life celebrities.
Her violet eyes burn through the screen. But it is her voice, a soprano whisper from the throat, that lays hold of your heart and conjures visions of a child-woman who desperately needs rescue.
Too often, her notorious private life overshadowed her considerable talent. From child star to ingenue and then glamorous leading lady, Elizabeth Taylor refined her craft—too often in really terrible movies, I dare you to sit through Boom!, 1968—and emerged as a compelling actress who, with great subtlety, was most adept at revealing a character’s tortured but generous heart.
Taylor won two Oscars. First, for her flinty but nuanced performance in BUtterfield 8 in 1960, a script she loathed, and for Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? 1966, a film I despise—arty, self-conscious, totally false. Her grotesque performance as a grotesque woman is classic Oscar bait. Lavished with praise and prizes when first released—misery and despair soaked in booze are like, heavy, man—the film stands as a relentlessly shrill and slick husk best suited for dysfunctional film school types who also adore Russ Meyer’s simulation of women.
Easily, her finest performance is in A Place in the Sun, 1951, as Angela Vickers, a bratty socialite who comes between George Eastman, Montgomery Clift, and his dour, pregnant blue-collar girlfriend Alice Tripp, Shelley Winters.
There’s a stunning moment in the film when Clift, crushed under the weight of guilt, lays his head on Taylor’s breast. He snuggles like a child. She breathes in and out, soothes his fevered brow and whispers: “Tell mama all.” He is doomed, their love is doomed, but Taylor reveals an unexpected core of goodness, a capacity for endless love.
In her frequently painful memoir, Baby Doll, actress Carroll Baker gives a vivid portrait of Elizabeth Taylor as the classic Hollywood goddess: over-indulged, self-absorbed, innocent, selfish, generous, clueless about mere mortals, a conflicting mix of character traits wrapped in beauty so stunning she leaves a literal path of destruction in her wake.
The year is 1956. Baker and Taylor—both women converted to Judaism—have just wrapped production on the epic but deeply flawed Giant. Now, back in Los Angeles, Baker, a talented, wide-eyed ingenue—bad men, bad financial management, and bad judgement harpooned what should have been an enduring Hollywood career—goes out for lunch with Elizabeth Taylor.
Driving with Elizabeth behind the wheel of her white Cadillac was a uniquely terrifying experience. I can’t imagine how she ever passed her driver’s test! She flatly refused to acknowledge the presence of other vehicles on the road—let alone that they might have the right-of-way. We had only two blocks to go from the studio, but even in the sparse Burbank traffic, we had three hair-raising near-misses. Outside the restaurant she drove directly into a parked car, then backed up and hit the man in the car behind us. The driver was so dumbstruck at the sight of Elizabeth Taylor that he forgot to complain, and when he stepped out of the car, she glared daggers at him for having dared to be in her path in the first place. I went around to survey the dent in the fender, but Liz waltzed directly into the restaurant, totally unconcerned.
My feelings about Liz probably seem extreme, but to me, at that time in my impressionable youg life, she was truly the pinnacle of what being a star meant. I lover her—I adored her—I worshipped her. She was utterly regal!
The diners dropped their forks and stared in open-mouthed wonder at Elizabeth’s every movement and gesture, and the poor girl couldn’t relax for a second during lunch. With all her fame and beauty, she was so sincere and sweet and charming and had at times such a helpless, little-girl quality, that I wanted nothing more than to watch over her and protect her.
When the bill arrived, she said: “Carroll, you pay it. I haven’t got any money.” I remember wanting to crawl under the table and kiss her china doll feet for giving me the honor.
In her later years, Elizabeth Taylor was best known for her charity work on behalf of AIDS. Always, her best friends were anguished gay men. But she was also a great supporter of Israel, an ardent Zionist—she offered herself in exchange for the Entebbe hostages—and contributed generously to Jewish charities.
Baruch Dayan Emes. Blessed is the True Judge.
Let’s close with a powerful scene from A Place in the Sun:
Ariel Chaim Avrech, ZT'L, May His Righteous Memory be a Blessing.
20 Comments
Robert – I just finished watching Giant for the first time in 15-20 years and felt that – as far as the script – it went all over the place – there really was no central theme other than a Texas family changing over decades and segregation (which we can all agree was bad).
That theme reminded me of Australia, which, to me was a similar epic.
I am not complaining of the fact that that they showed segregation (of Hispanics and Aborigines, respectively) but it was all through the movie and seemed to be of no purpose other than the screenwriter wanting us to know there was discrimination.
Hard to believe Liz was all of 24 in that movie.
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“…the epic but deeply flawed Giant.”
George Stevens’ film is that, and more, but I’d rather a film this deeply flawed today than any of the merely trivial standard of filmmaking we’ve grown accustomed to, or the flawed but somehow unambitious work we see held up at awards season. So many of the fevered melodramas of the ’50s – films by Stevens, Sirk and others – are flawed, but remain fascinating, proof for me that a society wrestling with its contradictions is more interesting than one embracing them. (For an example, screen Giant next to, say Boom!)
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guilty of typo role, not roll
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Most probably Elizabeth Taylor’s best roll, was that long-running, just ended one playing… that movie star, Elizabeth Taylor.
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Wow. Check this out!
Flashback: Elizabeth Taylor Offered Herself to Be Exchanged For Israeli Hostages Being Held by PLO Terrorists in Uganda…
Full story here: http://weaselzippers.us/2011/03/25/flashback-elizabeth-taylor-offered-herself-to-be-exchanged-for-israeli-hostages-being-held-by-plo-terrorists-in-uganda/
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Kirk Douglas? Nice Jewish boy? Chopped liver?
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Elizabeth Taylor was a courageous, talented resilient woman. For all her substance abuse, weight problems, nervous breakdowns, failed marriages, she never, unlike Marilyn Monroe or Judy Garland, let herself just sink into the self-pitying, self-destructive mud and stay there. She always tried to pull herself out. May she rest in peace, though I don’t like it at all that she liked that perverted creep, Michael Jackson.
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I believe there was a stage production of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, starring Walter Matthau and Elaine May. I never saw it, but I understand that it played up the loyalty and love that underlay George and Martha’s insults and bickering and some critics felt it worked very well.
For me, the scene stealer in A PLACE IN THE SUN is Raymond Burr: “Didn’t you pick up this oar and bring it down on Alice Tripp’s head, like this?” C-R-A-S-H!!!!
Carroll Baker’s daughter, Blanche Baker, is one of my favorite actresses, and, I think, this generation’s most under-appreciated actress.
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Robert – I too was waiting for your write-up of Liz. Your tributes are so wonderfully written – obviously with some empathy and respect.
I too found Giant so long – too long – but in going to Amazon had to order it because the preferred Place In The Sun was not available.
Some Liz Taylor thoughts:
My mother told me some time ago that while working for Bullocks Dept Store in Los Angeles in the late 40s and early 50s she met Liz Taylor – and she said that you didn’t forget her eyes.
These last few days – I have been trying to ascertain why so many (including myself) consider her to be the last real movie star.
I believe part of it was she didn’t really overexpose herself to the press – or talk shows. There was always a bit of mystery and allure to her.
I think she lived with horrible pain and illness much of her life. Didn’t it originate with a fall from a horse in National Velvet ?
If she became your friend – she was your friend – no matter what the world thought.
I think she had a wicked sense of humor – just heard today on the news that the funeral ceremony was 15 minutes late at Forest Lawn – all choreographed by Liz as she “wanted to be late to her own funeral”. She was buried in the same mausoleum as her friend Michael Jackson.
BTW I read that she hated her nickname of “Liz” – sounded like “hiss”, she would say.
I think, like Jackson, she never really had a childhood. Perhaps that is why she emphasized with him.
I don’t understand what her problem with men or marriage was – I would think if I were a mythical prospect to a woman who had been married 7 times, my statistical odds of success would be less than stellar. But to look at her I can see why so many tried!
But, from what I have read in the last few days Richard Burton was her only true love. Couldn’t live with him and couldn’t live without him it seems. I read in one of the UK papers to her dying day one of her heartbreaks was “Richard not getting an Oscar”.
I remember reading about her last husband, from Stockton CA. She came up to Stockton to visit his family – and I thought at the time “That must have been an almost surrealistic moment”.
Liz arriving to a small suburban tract home in a small Central Valley town to meet the family.
She said that the only time she really applied herself to acting – or I should say – the first time – was in A Place in The Sun .
She seems like a person I would have liked to have known.
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Robert-
I have the soundtrack to Camelot, the Broadway show starring Burton as King Arthur, Julie Andrews as Guenevere, and Robert Goulet as Lancelot. One of my favorites! Youngest Daughter took me to see a performance of Camelot in January, at her university. It was marvelous.
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Johnny:
I started watching Woolf recently on TCM to see if maybe I was too harsh in my judgement.
I switched to America’s Next Top Model after about twelve minutes.
Only films by Jean Luc Godard chase me away faster. Except for Contempt, and for that mess I skip forward, only watching the scenes with Brigitte Bardot—who is just brilliant.
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Agree completely with Virginia Woolf. I saw it in college and kept thinking am I supposed to enjoy this? I’ll watch National Velvet 100 times before I watch Woolf again.
A Place In The Sun was post-WWII Stevens and Taylor works really well with Montgomery Clift. Usually when Clift was at his best his performance could blot out others in the cast. But Taylor gave a performance that complemented Clift.
her best friends were anguished gay men
But wasn’t Michael Jackson her best friend? (rimshot)
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Dr. Carol:
I have read your comment three times.
You actually have a Richard Burton CD in your car?
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Beth:
Thanks so much for the kind words. Try and screen A Place in the Sun. I think you’ll form a new appreciation for Elizabeth Taylor.
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Christopher:
No, never met Elizabeth Taylor. One of the sharper regrets of my life.
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Aharon:
Isn’t the National Enquirer correct every week:-)
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Just a coincidence…I read the news yesterday about Taylor’s death, then went out to my truck to go to work. When I started it up, the CD I’d left in the CD player started too–and the song was “How to Handle a Woman”, performed by Richard Burton.
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Robert, I’ve never cared much for Elizabeth Taylor, but after your beautiful post, I have a new appreciation for her.
You are a great writer.
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A beautiful tribute, Robert. I was waiting to hear what you’d have to say. Did you ever have the luck to meet Miss Taylor yourself?
Not just The Last Movie Star, the absolute embodiment of the hackneyed phrase, “they don’t make ‘em like that anymore.”
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Unfortunatly the National Enquirer is correct this week …
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