So. Farewell Then, Elizabeth Taylor

The late Elizabeth Taylor was the inspiration for what is, to An Spailpín’s mind, one of the great gallant comments about any woman. Richard Burton, the man with whom she would be associated more than any other, wrote in his diary that the first time he saw Taylor he wanted to laugh out loud. It seemed the only correct reaction to her staggering beauty. Wasn’t it a lovely thing to say?

Millions and millions of women wanted to be Liz Taylor. Maybe you should be careful what you wish for. Eight marriages, seven husbands, countless addictions, and all for what? Was Liz Taylor ever happy?

Liz Taylor was a child star. How many child stars have led happy and adjusted adult lives, if such things exist? Shirley Temple, maybe. Deanna Durbin. But both of those shunned the limelight once they grew up. For others, like Taylor, who lived their entire lives in its glare, it’s hard to know if it was every worth their while. Or if they even knew who they were when the light went out. Maybe the limelight itself was Taylor’s worst addiction.

Liz Taylor’s first marriage was to Nicky Hilton, when she was eighteen years old. The marriage lasted a year. Hilton was a drunk who used to beat his child bride. A woman so beautiful that Burton wanted to laugh out loud at the joy of her.

After Hilton, Taylor married a British actor called Michael Wilding, and then Mike Todd, who died in a plane clash. Eddie Fisher left his wife, Debbie Reynolds, to catch the grieving Taylor on the rebound only to get the elbow himself when Taylor hooked up with Richard Burton while they filmed Cleopatra.

Burton and Taylor were second only to John and Yoko as the iconic sixties couple. Mervyn Davies, the former Number 8 for London Welsh, Swansea, Wales and the British Lions remarked in his autobiography how odd it was to return to the London Welsh dressing room and see the most beautiful woman in the world going whiskey for whiskey at the bar with her husband.

Burton loved rugby, and Taylor too, in his way. They divorced, and remarried, and divorced again. Taylor didn’t attend Burton’s funeral in 1984. It would have been unfair on Sally Hay, Burton’s wife. Whom would the world identify as the widow?

Taylor married twice again, for reasons that are difficult to fathom. Or else painfully easy – the most beautiful woman in the world was lonely. Who wants to be Liz Taylor, really?

Her celebrity was greater than her career, although as an actress she had a considerably greater range than her only rival for the most beautiful woman in the world, Marilyn. She wasn’t funny, as Marilyn was, but Taylor could burn up the screen in an instant. Whatever it is, she had it.

Most of her pictures are dated now. She and Burton were directed by Franco Zefferilli in The Taming of the Shrew; twenty years later, the trailer to the film was used in English courses as an example as the crippling weight of the patriarchy. Neither director nor stars nor Shakespeare himself could get past the politburo in those days.

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf won Taylor her second Oscar but, while it’s by no means fashionable to say so, it’s a two hour episode of Eastenders, really.

An Spailpín’s dollar for Liz Taylor’s greatest performance must be as Maggie the Cat, the role she was born to play, in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. She was opposite Paul Newman, in one of his great roles. After all, it took an actor of stunning ability not to laugh out loud when Liz Taylor came into a room.

Oscars 2007

The Oscars have always been one of An Spailpín Fánach’s great vices. When he was nine years old, An Spailpín learned for the first time just how unfair life is when – for reasons that still baffle – the greatest motion picture in the history of human civilisation, Raiders of the Lost Ark, did not win the Oscar for Best Picture and some damn film about two Tans running won it instead. Get the *%@# out of here, as one of this year’s nominees was to catchphrase some years later in Beverly Hills Cop.

The Oscars are a fraud, of course, and many films have won Oscars that are now unwatchable. American Beauty springs to mind, as does the last Lord of the Rings picture, and that’s just from the last ten years. But still, people that love cinema love drama, and we’ll get it in spades from the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion – just think back to the expressions on Burt Reynolds and Lauren Bacall’s faces when Robin Williams and Juliette Binoche went up to collect their Oscars and you’ll realise just how worth it the Oscars can be. So without further ado and making room in our hearts for schadenfreude, the most delicious of all emotions, let’s take a peek at the categories.

ACTOR IN A SUPPORTING ROLE
Little Miss Sunshine was one of those movies that people couldn’t really find fault with, no matter how hard they tried. Not that that will save veteran Alan Arkin in this. Eddie Murphy is a lock for this, he can’t be beaten – the man has made the industry millions and millions of dollars over twenty years, and don’t think the industry isn’t grateful.

ACTRESS IN A SUPPORTING ROLE
Someone once said that 42nd Street or A Star is Born is the quintessential Hollywood movie – “you’re going out a nobody but you’re coming back a STAR!” As such, Jennifer Hudson is the nominee here for the intelligent punter. From what diligent research can tell your faithful narrator, Ms Hudson suffered a bad beat as a contestant on American Idol and if there’s one thing America loves it’s the plucky underdog coming out on top.

ACTRESS IN A LEADING ROLE
This has been Helen Mirren’s to lose since The Queen was released. Yanks love the British royal family – probably from having got shot of the freeloading wretches so early – and that gives Ms Mirren added zip in the running. Judi Dench – I found her very moving as M in the new Bond, didn’t you? – and Curvy Katie Winslet keep the British end up but it might be a mistake to rule out La Streep’s challenge. Jane Fonda and Helen Hunt both won against all-British fields for Klute and As Good as it Gets in 1971 and 1997 respectively, so Meryl can take comfort from historical precedent. To confess a personal bias, An Spailpín hopes Meryl does it – she and Dustin Hoffman co-starred in one of the most miserable movies of all time, Kramer versus Kramer, twenty-five years ago but both she and Hoffman have mellowed out considerably since then, and have both relaxed and realised that hey, it’s only show business. Meryl has got very good indeed at the scenery-munching lately and she seems like fun to be with. La Streep, then, to dust off the Dames and win it for the US of A - and Penelope Cruz to look just fantastic in her Oscar frock, of course.

ACTOR IN A LEADING ROLE
An Spailpín has yet to see The Last High King of Scotland but even in the trailers Forest Whittaker looks impressive. It’s the sort of casting-against-type career defining performance that’s traditionally been richly rewarded by the Academy, and that’s why Whittaker is the ante-post favourite. Peter O’Toole is the sentimental favourite, but the movie he’s in could be a bit too slight to push him over the line. He should be good crack on the talk-show circuit trying to get it though. Leonardo DiCaprio’s nomination leaves your faithful popcorn-muncher baffled, quite frankly.

BEST DIRECTOR
Scorsese. Next!

BEST FILM
Now here’s an interesting one. Traditionally the Best Film is the one that’s been directed by the Best Director, but this doesn’t always apply, as when Chicago won Best Film but Polanski won Best Director, chiefly because the Academy felt very, very sorry for Polanski, what with the California PD on his case for thirty years. So, if Marty does win it this year it’s nothing to do with The Departed, it’s more a thanks for the memories sort of vote (which he wouldn’t get from An Spailpín, by the way – your eagle-eyed attendant at the Astoria finds Taxi Driver, Raging Bull and the King of Comedy all unwatchable, frankly, and I’m not too gone on Mean Streets either. An Spailpín is nothing if not brave enough to stand alone).

So if The Departed doesn’t get it – and let’s face it, what’s all that remarkable about the picture anyway? Exactly – we must search further afield. We’re looking for a picture that’s uplifting, ideally, and that makes the movie industry, which is going to make so much money this summer from Fantastic Four 2 and Spider-Man 3 and that sort of stuff it’s unbelievable – feel a lot better about itself. Some rich dame in London, England isn’t going to do it. No picture in gosh-darned Japanese will win it – unless Mel directed it, of course – and Babel is so last year. So step forward, the last man – or woman – standing and take a bow Little Miss Sunshine. Tonight you’re a star at last.

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