Wednesday, March 23, 2011

The V.I.P.s: Remembering Burton and Taylor






In the wake of the sad passing of Elizabeth Taylor today, it was with the ring of finality that Hollywood took yet another step away from the Golden Age of pictures that so epitomized the middle of the twentieth century.

Taylor was one of the last century's most durable stars, with a scintillating career that spanned an arc from the early 1940s through to the new millenium. As much noted for her tumultuous personal life as her notable dramatic roles in films like Butterfield 8, for which she won the Oscar, it may be her serial relationships with former husband Richard Burton that serve as the linchpin -- the hinge -- in a life and career which is certain to be unique in our history.

Given this blog's preoccupation with 20th century modern motifs, it may not come as a surprise to readers that our personal favourite high point in that career is the fascinating film The V.I.P.s. It was the first movie Taylor and Burton made together and also starred French superstar Louis Jourdan, along with a remarkable supporting cast that included Orson Welles, Rod Taylor, Maggie Smith and - in a scene-stealing character role as the Duchess of Brighton - Margaret Rutherford.



Films don't come much more "modern" than this. Released in 1963, starring Burton and Taylor, and featuring a tailored wardrobe that could clothe all of Madison Avenue, never mind the cast of Mad Men. But best of all is the plot conceit, summarized thusly by IMDb:

Awaiting at London Airport for a flight to New York, Frances Andros, seen off by her tycoon husband, Paul Andros, plans to leave her spouse for the arms of an aging international playboy, Marc Champselle. Les Mangrum, a self-made Australian businessman traveling with his loyal secretary, Miss Mead, must be in New York the following day to arrange the loan that will help him repel a hostile takeover of his tractor company. Max Buba, a film mogul traveling with starlet Gloria Gritti, must get out of England immediately or face ruinous British income tax. The Duchess of Brighton has taken a job as a hostess at an American holiday resort, thinking she will be able to keep her family estate on her new income. Fog descends and blurs the future for them all, forced now to wait in the airport hotel for morning and fair weather.


Jet setting tycoons! International playboys! Orson Welles! The VIP lounge in an airport serving as a metaphorical location for the ennui of a generation impatiently waiting for the fog of uncertainty to lift before it strides bravely into the coming Youth Revolution!



Sweet, sweet modernism, all around....

RIP, Elizabeth and Richard. The 21st century doesn't deserve you, and the 20th century wasn't big enough to contain you.

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