Like most of the movie-going world, last night I commemorated the recent passing of veteran actor Paul Newman by watching one of his films. 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958)' was among Newman's earliest big-name roles, and one that catapulted this humble, affable performer into Hollywood's A-list. The film, the latest in a series of Tennessee Williams play adaptations, was directed by Richard Brooks, even though Elia Kazan {who had also helmed the screen versions of 'A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)' and 'Baby Doll (1956)'} had directed the stage version. It was theatre adaptations like this that proved Hollywood's greatest opportunity to produce "artistic" pictures, and, accordingly, such films were usually shot in black-and-white. However, with the casting of Elizabeth Taylor and Paul Newman the wise decision was made to film in colour, to capitalise on those vibrant violet and blue eyes, respectively. Though I hear that considerable changes were made to Williams' original play (much to the author's chagrin), Richard Brooks' film has the intimate, claustrophobic feel of a stage production.
Former footballer Brick Pollitt (Newman), in the year since the death of his close friend and teammate, has quit his job and descended into bouts of vicious drinking. He and wife Maggie (Taylor), to whom he has become cold, have arrived at the vast estate of his father "Big Daddy" (Burt Ives), who is suspected to have contracted terminal cancer. While Big Daddy tries to come to terms with his situation, Maggie tries to restore her failing and childless marriage, lest she lose the old man's considerable fortune to Brick's brother Gooper (Jack Carson) and his gruesome family of "no-neck monsters." Throughout a hot, humid evening that culminates in a cleansing torrent of rain, the family of characters attempt to reconcile their differences, convinced that they can no longer simply run from their problems. The story ends on an ambiguous note not quite tragic, but hardly optimistic either as Brick decides to simply accept the lies and mendacity in his life, even if it means making nightly love to a woman for whom he feels nothing but an obligation.
Fortunately, given the film's intimate focus on characters and relationships, the cast is very well-chosen. Elizabeth Taylor, then a Hollywood star for well over a decade, brings a conflicted beauty to the screen, the persona of a woman trying desperately to retain an image of grace and happiness, and yet not quite pulling it off. She also sports one of those annoying Southern accents that, had she been anybody other than Elizabeth Taylor, would have driven me up the wall. Paul Newman spends the first half of the film reserved and isolated, but, through his interactions with Big Daddy, finally begins to open up about what he's really feeling. A subplot concerning Brick's sexuality was among the themes excised from Williams' original play to appease the Production Code, but the subtext nonetheless simmers slightly beneath the surface, all the better for not deliberately drawing attention to itself. All in all, 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958)' is a film that's impossible not to admire, even if I can't honestly confess to having loved it.
Former footballer Brick Pollitt (Newman), in the year since the death of his close friend and teammate, has quit his job and descended into bouts of vicious drinking. He and wife Maggie (Taylor), to whom he has become cold, have arrived at the vast estate of his father "Big Daddy" (Burt Ives), who is suspected to have contracted terminal cancer. While Big Daddy tries to come to terms with his situation, Maggie tries to restore her failing and childless marriage, lest she lose the old man's considerable fortune to Brick's brother Gooper (Jack Carson) and his gruesome family of "no-neck monsters." Throughout a hot, humid evening that culminates in a cleansing torrent of rain, the family of characters attempt to reconcile their differences, convinced that they can no longer simply run from their problems. The story ends on an ambiguous note not quite tragic, but hardly optimistic either as Brick decides to simply accept the lies and mendacity in his life, even if it means making nightly love to a woman for whom he feels nothing but an obligation.
Fortunately, given the film's intimate focus on characters and relationships, the cast is very well-chosen. Elizabeth Taylor, then a Hollywood star for well over a decade, brings a conflicted beauty to the screen, the persona of a woman trying desperately to retain an image of grace and happiness, and yet not quite pulling it off. She also sports one of those annoying Southern accents that, had she been anybody other than Elizabeth Taylor, would have driven me up the wall. Paul Newman spends the first half of the film reserved and isolated, but, through his interactions with Big Daddy, finally begins to open up about what he's really feeling. A subplot concerning Brick's sexuality was among the themes excised from Williams' original play to appease the Production Code, but the subtext nonetheless simmers slightly beneath the surface, all the better for not deliberately drawing attention to itself. All in all, 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958)' is a film that's impossible not to admire, even if I can't honestly confess to having loved it.