MY COUSIN RACHEL

Olivia De Havilland and Richard Burton

MY COUSIN RACHEL(1952). Directed by Henry Koster. 

Philip Ashley (Richard Burton of Becket) has been raised by a man whom he has always considered a brother, a father, and best friend, Ambrose Ashley (John Sutton of The Second Face). Now Ambrose has gone off on a vacation from which he never returns. While in Italy, Ambrose met and married an Italian woman with a possibly shady history. Now Ambrose -- who sent strange letters to his cousin, Philip -- is dead, and his widow is coming to visit the estate Philip will inherit. Rachel Ashley (Olivia De Havilland) seems charming, and Philip becomes smitten with her, but he can't shake the feeling that she may not be quite as sympathetic as she seems. That perhaps she was in some way responsible for his beloved cousin's death ... 

Richard Burton

My Cousin Rachel is based on a novel by Daphne Du Maurier, but it is no Rebecca or The Birds, because while Henry Koster is a workmanlike professional he is no Hitchcock. However, if taken more as a romantic drama and not necessarily a suspense film, Rachel is effective and absorbing and has excellent performances. The casting of de Havilland and Burton may seem strange, as they are both representatives of a very different kind of "Hollywood," with Olivia a product of the studio system and Burton an Angry Young Man of the theater. Still, they work together beautifully, and this is certainly a star-making performance for Burton. 

Audrey Dalton with Burton

Olivia de Havilland may not be perfect casting -- she doesn't even attempt an Italian accent -- but her strength is that she never lets the viewer know what she is thinking. No one watching the film can definitely make up their mind about Rachel's guilt or innocence. Audrey Dalton, whose performances can be variable, is lovely as Louise Kendall, someone who has known Philip since childhood and has always expected to marry him, but this is not a certainty once Philip meets Rachel. There's also nice work from Tudor Owen as major domo Seecombe; Ronald Squire as Nicholas Kendall; George Dolenz (father of Mickey Dolenz of the Monkees) as Guido, who may or may not be Rachel's lover. Hamilton Camp [Evilspeak], who plays Philip at age 15, later became a singer. 

Verdict: Not entirely satisfying, perhaps, but entertaining and well-acted. ***.

WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF?

Liz Taylor and Richard Burton

WHO'S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF? (1966). Director: Mike Nichols.

"I'd divorce you if you existed." --Martha regarding George.

George (Richard Burton of Becket) is an Associate Professor of History at New Carthage University. His wife Martha (Elizabeth Taylor of Giant) is the daughter of the university president. Married for some years, they are enmeshed in bitter disappointment and alcohol. They were not able to have children, and George had hoped to be head of his department by now. The contempt they feel for themselves and for one another bursts out in lacerating games and accusations.

George Segal and Sandy Dennis

After a party one night they invite a younger couple, new to the university, to their home at two in the morning. Nick (George Segal) is a new biology teacher, and Honey (Sandy Dennis of That Cold Day in the Park) is his wife. The two were only married because of an hysterical pregnancy, and Honey's family is wealthy. Copious amounts of alcohol keep the "games" coming, with Martha pretending that she and George have a son. Before long all four people are lashing out at each other, and George decides it's time to put one rumor to rest.

George notices that Martha has plans for Nick

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? intelligently opens up Edward Albee's play with scenes at a roadhouse and on the lawn, and the film is very well directed by Nichols, who gets excellent performances from the entire cast, and an especially strong one from Oscar-winning Elizabeth Taylor. Alex North's music is used very sparingly but it adds to the grim atmosphere of this black comedy, as does Haskell Wexler's top-notch black and white cinematography.

George fences with Nick

Since the play is much longer than the movie, cuts were obviously made, but I suspect that the movie is better than the play. It is debatable if Virginia Woolf is a great work of theater or more along the lines of kitsch, and in truth it probably lies somewhere in the middle. Although seen as a dissection of typical married life back when it premiered in the sixties,  it was obviously not the first play to deal with dysfunctional marriages. There was a typically sixties frankness and crudity to the language that was different, however, and Albee's dialogue is often very good and very funny.

George and Martha 

The whole business with the "son" doesn't really make much sense, but one's left with a vague air of tragedy because these people seem so pathetic, despite the fact that they are not that likable nor sympathetic. As played (beautifully) by Sandy Dennis, who also garnered an Oscar, even Honey is simply too freaky to engage our sympathies. Although we obliquely learn certain things about the characters -- the whole business with George's book, his parents' (?) deaths and so on is admittedly intriguing if obscure -- it might be said that we don't quite come to know them that well (nor do we want to).

Still, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf holds the attention and has its fascinating aspects. Underneath the laughs and bitchy interplay there is genuine pain and loneliness, but other plays have perhaps gone into the same themes with more brilliance and compassion. (Admittedly, there are undoubtedly big differences between the play, which I have not seen in some years, and the film.) Albee based George and Martha on a straight couple he knew -- they were never intended to be a gay couple, which is probably why he nixed an all-male version that Burton and Henry Fonda wanted to do with Jon Voight and Warren Beatty in 1970. True!

NOTE: The film Martha is referring to when she imitates Bette Davis saying "What a dump!" is Beyond the Forest.

Verdict: Who's Afraid of Alcohol Poisoning? ***. 

THE MEDUSA TOUCH

Richard Burton 

THE MEDUSA TOUCH (1978). Director: Jack Gold.

A writer named Morlar (Richard Burton) is found apparently beaten to death in his London apartment, but Inspector Brunel (Lino Ventura) is shocked to discover that Morlar is still alive. In the intensive care unit, the doctors hold out little hope, but then Morlar's brain activity begins to register. Hoping to find out who assaulted the man, Brunel questions Morlar's psychiatrist, Ms. Zonfled (Lee Remick), who tells him that her patient insists he's responsible for a series of terrible tragedies. Is Morlar merely a quilt-wracked neurotic, or does he truly possess amazing and deadly telekinetic abilities that can send airliners crashing into buildings? What do you think? Morlar has a social conscience, hates the establishment, and has essentially turned into a terrorist. The Medusa Touch certainly tells an interesting story, but the way it's told -- with too many flashbacks and a rather slow pace, not to mention a dragged out final quarter -- works against it. The film recovers a bit with the exciting and well-handled destruction of a Cathedral at the climax. Burton's performance, while not among his most notable, is suitably intense; Lee Remick is good, although she underplays too much at times; and there are interesting performances from Derek Jacobi [The King's Speech] as Burton's publisher; Jeremy Brett [Young and Willing] as one of Morlar's wife's paramours; and Harry Andrews [Sands of the Kalahari] as Brunel's supervisor; among others. It may seem strange that Italian-born Lino Ventura is cast as a French inspector visiting England, but Ventura was raised in France where he became a well-known character actor. The Power is a better film with a similar theme.

Verdict: Quite interesting, but just misses being a superior thriller. **1/2.

THE ROBE

The stunning scenic design of The Robe

THE ROBE (1953). Director: Henry Koster.

After angering Caligula (Jay Robinson), tribune Marcellus Gallio (Richard Burton), son of a senator (Torin Thatcher), is sent off to Jerusalem with his proud slave, Demetrius (Victor Mature). Marcellus is one of several men ordered to crucify Christ by Pontius Pilate (Richard Boone). Marcellus wins the robe of dead Christ in a game of dice but finds he is unable to wear it, then Demetrius runs off with it. Ordered to get it back by Emperor Tiberius (Ernest Thesiger), so the "bewitched" item can be destroyed, Marcellus encounters a group of devout Christians and begins to see things their way ... The Robe, the first film shot in CinemaScope, is often rather spectacular to look at, thanks to Leon Shamroy's superb cinematography and the splendid scenic design, but it can hardly be called a "great" movie. It's a given that the film's religiosity might seem oppressive to some viewers, but the film begins to lull about halfway through and never quite recovers -- it's when the quite pious Justus (Dean Jagger) shows up, along with the crippled and beatific singer Miriam (Betta St. John). However, the film does boast several good performances, especially Burton as Marcellus, with good (if unexceptional) turns from Jean Simmons as our hero's lady love, Diana; Thatcher as Marcellus' father; Robinson as a screechingly effective Caligula; Thesiger as the elderly emperor; and Michael Rennie as Peter. Three actors worthy of special mention are Victor Mature [Kiss of Death], who is excellent as Demetrius, even if his performance consists mostly of expressive pantomiming; Michael Ansara [Dear Dead Delilah] in a striking turn as Judas; and Jeff Morrow [The Giant Claw] who certainly scores as the centurion, Paulus, and who figures in an exciting sword fight with Marcellus. Jay Novello, Percy Helton and Thomas Browne Henry are also good in bits as a slave trader, wine merchant, and physician, respectively. Alfred Newman's score washes the whole movie in dramatic overtones. Followed by Demetrius and the Gladiators.

Verdict: Certainly well turned out for what it is. **1/2.

BECKET

Richard Burton and Peter O'Toole

BECKET (1964). Director: Peter Glenville.

In the 12th century the Saxon Thomas Becket (Richard Burton) becomes friend, companion -- and some feel, collaborator -- with King Henry II (Peter O'Toole) -- and the two go "drinking and wenching" together. First Henry makes Beckett the Royal Chancellor, and then hits upon the idea of making him Archbishop of Canterbury. This is done because of the friction between the king and the Catholic Church, but Henry gets a surprise when Becket takes his role seriously and becomes seriously pious. When an arrested priest escapes jail and is killed by a Nobleman, Becket wants the man excommunicated, which Henry sees as a blow against England. If Becket goes ahead with his plans, there will be terrible consequences ... Becket is a handsome, well-produced, and well-acted film with a fine score by Laurence Rosenthal, striking production design by John Bryan, and excellent wide-screen photography by Geoffrey Unsworth, but Becket must not be taken as literal history. Edward Anhalt's script was based on a poorly-researched play by Jean Anouilh which ignores the fact that Becket was not a Saxon, but a Norman as Henry was. While this may add more motive and conflict to the story, it simply isn't true. Then there's the blatant homoerotic element. The relationship between the two men first seems like a warm if cautious friendship, but turns strange (by 1964 standards) when Henry's wife and mother both object to the presence of Becket in the king's life. Henry's mother accuses her son of having an "unhealthy" and "unnatural" obsession with him; O'Toole plays certain scenes like a discarded lover; Henry clearly loves Becket much more than his wife and children; and at one point cries out in anguish in front of his men at how much he still loves Thomas Becket. If King Henry II had romantic or sexual longings for Becket, or if the two had a relationship early in life, there has never been any historical proof of it . In a sense the portrayal of Henry is the cliche of the tormented homosexual or bisexual man who acts as much out of "twisted" passion and rejection as anything else, like Rod Steiger's character in The Sergeant.

Richard Burton is excellent as Becket, while O'Toole is superb as the king. There is also fine work from John  Gielgud as the King of France; Donald Wolfit [Room at the Top] as Bishop Folliot, who'd hoped to be made Archbishop himself; David Weston as Brother John, a would-be assassin (of Becket) turned monk; and Sian Phillips as Gwendolyne, who loves Becket and comes to a sad fate. As the movie's representations of Henry's mother and wife, respectively, Martita Hunt [The Brides of Dracula] and Pamela Brown seem merely to be striking poses and busily "acting" compared to the others. Besides the distortion of history, there are other problems with the movie, such as the "cutesy" element of some scenes, with the king acting like a girl-crazy adolescent and the Pope almost turned into a figure out of a sitcom. There is absolutely no sense of the passage of time.

Verdict: Entertaining, dramatic "history" served up on a now dated psycho-sexual platter. ***.

THE NIGHT OF THE IGUANA

Deborah Kerr and Richard Burton

THE NIGHT OF THE IGUANA (1964). Director: John Huston. Based on the play by Tennessee Williams.

"Don't make me take steps, Dr. Shannon ..." -- Judith Fellowes.

The former minister T. Lawrence Shannon (Richard Burton), who was locked out of his church, is now guiding ladies on a tour bus through Mexico. Young Charlotte Goodall (Sue Lyon) can't keep her hands off Shannon, inspiring the ire of her formidable guardian Judith Fellowes (Grayson Hall). Shannon takes the gals to a small hotel run by an old friend, Maxine Faulk (Ava Gardner), whose husband died a short while ago. While some of the tourist ladies put up a fuss, Maxine reluctantly admits the impoverished artist Hannah Jelkes (Deborah Kerr) and her aged poet father, Nonno (Cyril Delevanti) to her hostel. As these characters interact and Shannon faces dismissal from the tour business, will the man finally find himself  "at the end of his rope," like one of the iguanas tied to the stairs? Like many Williams' adaptations The Night of the Iguana is a mix of the poetic and the pretentious, but it does have some very tender moments. Burton, Lyon and Delevanti walk off with the acting honors. Grayson Hall [House of Dark Shadows] is a bit overwrought, almost ridiculous at times, as Judith, but the whole idea of the fire-breathing repressed lesbian is terribly dated. Deborah Kerr [Edward, My Son] is good, but she doesn't quite get across the weary defeatedness of someone who is a caregiver to a man in his nineties [walking him around Mexico in the heat with little money could almost be considered elder abuse], and is apparently homeless besides -- where is the sheer desperation she would be feeling? Gardner [Seven Days in May] is not bad at all and suitably earthy; Bette Davis played the role on the stage. The poem that Nonno completes, written by Williams, of course, is beautiful. Despite its flaws, the movie casts a certain exotic and haunting spell.

Verdict: Imperfect but entertaining and well-acted, with some interesting characters. ***.

HOW TO BE A MOVIE STAR: ELIZABETH TAYLOR IN HOLLYWOOD

HOW TO BE A MOVIE STAR: ELIZABETH TAYLOR IN HOLLYWOOD. William J. Mann. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt; 2009.

Mann has decided not to write a straight-forward bio of Taylor but focus on certain highlights of her life, the result being that the book actually has as much depth and knowledge of the woman as bios that cover every facet of her life and career. [To all intents and purposes this is  a full biography.] You can read about Taylor's early career and aggressive mother, who'd been an actress herself; her affairs with, and marriages to, Eddie Fisher and Richard Burton; the making of the mammoth Cleopatra; the death of husband Mike Todd in a plane crash; her feud with Hedda Hopper, who was sued for claiming another Liz-husband, Michael Wilding, was gay; the filming of career highlights such as Giant and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, in which Liz was supposed to look slatternly; and so on. Of course, some things get lost -- Rhapsody, in which Taylor is terrific, is again glossed over [as it was in Taraborrelli's book] and there's no mention of Toscanini [I would have loved to have gone behind-the-scenes with Taylor and co-star C. Thomas Howell!], but you can't have everything. Naturally, when a star has been written about as often as Taylor, lots of stuff gets rehashed, but Mann is a good enough writer to make it all very interesting and readable nevertheless. Taylor's trials and tribulations may no longer be terribly important in the great scheme of things, if they ever were, but they do make good reading and Mann adroitly explores how Liz's romantic carryings-on and choice in movies helped open liberal sexual doors in Hollywood for better or worse. Mann is also the author of Behind the Screen, Kate, and Edge of Midnight on director John Schlesinger; all are recommended.

Verdict: Very readable and entertaining book that is as much about Hollywood as it is about Taylor. ***1/2.

THE SANDPIPER

Burton and Taylor get the bird [atop Taylor's head]

                                                                              

THE SANDPIPER (1965). Director: Vincente Minelli.

"I won't seduce him. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of blaming me afterwards."

Free-spirited artist Laura Reynolds (Elizabeth Taylor), who has a young son Danny (Morgan Mason) -- who is always getting into trouble -- but no husband, is angered when Judge Thompson (Torin Thatcher) tells her the boy either goes to the Episcopal San Simeon school run by Dr. Edward Hewitt (Richard Burton) or reform school. Hewitt is married to Claire (Eve Marie Saint), but that doesn't stop him from succumbing to his sexual and romantic feelings for Laura, and she makes little effort to stop him. On one hand The Sandpiper flirts with modern ideas and liberal attitudes -- Laura's atheism, her no-guilt approach to the affair -- but the screenplay is muddled, morally confusing, and talky, talky, talky. Taylor is miscast, but she and Burton were put into the film only to capitalize on the headlines they were garnering from their well-publicized affair at the time. Patrons expecting something steamy must have been disappointed, because [despite their off-screen relationship] these two generate little real passion and the movie isn't terribly erotic. There's much talk about Hewitt's hypocrisy, but none about Laura's, who easily gets indignant yet allowed a married man to pay her way through art school -- what, this "independent" woman couldn't get a job? An unintentionally hilarious scene has Taylor referring to the isolation of one trysting spot and saying "I feel as alone as Robinson Caruso." [And yet there's no opera in the background, only the pop tune introduced in the film, "The Shadow of Your Smile."] An injured bird that Laura mends hops around on her head during one love scene [see photo], probably as bored with the pretentious dialogue and alleged symbolism as the audience. Burton has his moments, and Eva Marie Saint and young Mason are excellent; Taylor comes off like an older version of her character in Rhapsody, still petulant, now living in luxurious poverty on the coast of Big Sur. The movie is beautiful to look at, however, with sweeping scenic views throughout. Robert Webber is fine in a thankless role as a cast-off lover of Laura's, and Thatcher offers a little bit of class as the judge. Tom Drake is also good in the very small role of a teacher at the school. Young Mason was later executive producer on Sex, Lifes and Videotape.

Verdict: For real romance and a better Taylor performance, watch Rhapsody instead. **.

EXORCIST II: THE HERETIC

EXORCIST II: THE HERETIC (1977). Director: John Boorman.

Richard Burton plays a priest who is assigned by the Vatican to investigate the circumstances surrounding the death of Father Merrin (Max von Sydow) in Washington D.C. Little Regan (Linda Blair) is now a teenager who is receiving treatment from a therapist played by Louise Fletcher. During a session, with Burton in attendance, the priest becomes aware that the demon is, apparently, still deep inside Blair and the girl is in danger. He goes to Africa to hook up with the boy, now grown, that Merrin exorcised years before. [The flashbacks of Merrin exorcising this child are contradicted by the recent Exorcist: The Beginning.] Then there's a mad dash back to Washington for reasons that are never made entirely clear. While Exorcist II is not an awful film, it's one that pretty much wastes its potential. It's understandable that Boorman and company didn't want to do a simple retread of the first picture, but there's too much rushing around to little point in this sequel. Regan never really seems in any great danger, and the motives of the demon Pazuzu, who possesses her, are never made clear. The picture isn't boring, and there is some striking photography, but it just doesn't seem to add up to much in the long run. There's a well-done, chilling fall from a cliff, but the climax is just messy instead of exciting. Burton has a couple of good scenes acting with veteran Paul Henreid (as a Cardinal), and is generally okay, if a little preoccupied at times. Linda Blair just isn't much of an actress, and looks ludicrous trying to come on all sexy in the climactic sequence. Louise Fletcher, playing a role very different from the cruel nurse of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest that netted her an Oscar, emerges as an attractive and appealing presence. Kitty Winn, who is given a much bigger role in this than she had in The Exorcist, is excellent, although it isn't readily apparent why her Sharon goes nutso at the end. The business with the strobing machine that puts people in trances is silly and unconvincing, and all those close ups of locusts rushing through the sky, while striking, make you think you're seeing a remake of The Beginning of the End with its giant grasshoppers. Regan is supposed to be one of the “good locusts” that evil is trying to wipe out, but this development isn't remotely moving.

Verdict: At least it's nice to look at. **1/2.

ELIZABETH

ELIZABETH. J Randy Taraborrelli. Warner Books. 2006.

A straight-forward, sympathetic look at the life of Elizabeth Taylor, detailing her relationships with the mother who pushed her toward stardom, her several husbands, her friends (from Montgomery Clift to Michael Jackson) , and looking into her life as an AIDS activist literally knocking on Hollywood's doors until celebrities agreed to attend fundraisers for research into the disease. What emerges is a credible, readable portrait of a complex individual who's probably led enough life for ten people. Taraborrelli doesn't gloss over Taylor's many flaws and excesses, but rather does his best to explain them. (Some may feel he goes overboard in this regard). It would not be fair to call the book superficial, but there are times when a bit more delving might have been called for, such as during discussion of Taylor's manic relationship with Richard Burton, and the possible reasons why Burton nearly drank himself to death, among other things. Dismissing many of Taylor's films as forgettable, including Rhapsody (in which Taylor actually gave one of her best performances) Taraborrelli simply ignores them; you get the impression he simply hasn't seen a lot of his subject's pictures. Still, flaws aside, this is a good read packed with solid information.

Verdict: Probably more about Liz than anyone wanted to know. ***.