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Showing posts with label Susannah York. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Susannah York. Show all posts

Friday, March 14, 2014

Give Liz an A for Zee



I’ve always said that some great roles rub off on the actors who play them. Bette Davis stayed Margo Channing in just about every role after All About Eve. Yul Brynner remained the supercilious King of Siam for life, from the day he first originated the role onstage. Faye Dunaway has continued to channel Joan Crawford more than 30 years after Mommie Dearest. And Elizabeth Taylor’s post-1966 roles all contain echoes of her Oscar-winning turn as Martha in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf...including this darkly comic, little-seen gem.


One of the great Taylor performances: Elizabeth as Zee Blakely


Zee (Elizabeth Taylor) and Robert (Michael Caine)


In fact,  X, Y and Zee (1972) is somewhat like a London mod version of Virginia Woolf in psychedelic technicolor, a portrait of a crumbling marriage, with the handsome and talented Michael Caine standing in for Richard Burton in the George-like role of Zee’s passive-aggressive husband. When Robert (Caine) begins a surreptitious affair with  Stella (Susannah York), you-know-who finds out and an ugly game of cat and mouse begins, culminating in hurt feelings, high drama and sweet revenge.




Stella (Susannah York) tolerates Zee's antics


York and Caine underplay admirably as the adulterous lovers. Caine’s qualms about abandoning his marriage foreshadow his comic Oscar-winning turn as the adulterer in Woody Allen’s Hannah and Her Sisters two decades later. And as the hard-to-read, sexually confused Stella, Susannah York pays homage to one of her own iconic roles, the lesbian love interest in The Killing of Sister George.

The charming and charismatic Caine, so adept in light comedy, reveals brilliant flashes of a menacing dark side as Robert, particularly while sparring with Taylor, who unrelentingly baits and taunts him until he explodes in moments of uncontrolled rage and fury.



Zee and Robert, or George and Martha? 
Robert loses his patience

But, of course, the film belongs to Elizabeth Taylor as Zee, a heightened version of a woman scorned. Zee is mean, nasty, vicious, domineering, childish--a replay of Martha but with an even greater measure of madness. No one plays bonkers like Taylor, as fans of films like Night Watch, Raintree County and Suddenly Last Summer can attest…and as Zee Blakely, she pulls out all the stops. Truly, as the aptly named title character, she runs the gamut of emotions from A to Zed. 

Here, La Liz is grotesque and flamboyant, as foul-mouthed as Martha but now glammed up in full-color splendor, flouncing about in jangling jewelry, powder blue eyeshadow and flowing caftans that barely disguise her ever-more-Rubenesque proportions. Camp yes; over-the-top, sometimes, but make no mistake: This is a bravura star performance by Taylor, a fine actress who redeems the villainy of her character with a generous dose of wry humor and a surprising vulnerability that ultimately leaves the audience on her side, despite Zee’s appalling behavior.

Zee makes some noise
Zee and Gordon (John Standing)

Stella, Robert and Gladys (Margaret Leighton–not Audra Lindley)
Obviously glorying in cinema’s newfound freedom since the abolition of the production code and establishment of a movie rating system, director Brian G. Hutton goes out of his way to make sure X, Y and Zee is hip and (to use the vernacular of the day) “with it”. The language is frank and salty. Hutton takes pains to capture the mood of the early 70s zeitgeist—the hedonistic fervor of the sexual revolution in full swing and burgeoning “Me” decade—particularly in the party scene at the beginning of the film hosted by an eccentric socialite (a marvelous cameo by English theater veteran Margaret Leighton) . This is also one of the first films to use the character of a flagrantly gay confidante (John Standing)  to move the plot forward and provide exposition. But alas, Zee, an equal opportunity psychotic, is as nasty to him as she is to everyone else she comes in contact with.


For Elizabeth Taylor fans, this is the perfect opportunity to enjoy the actress in one of her great unsung roles, ably assisted by great costars, in a campy, colorful, rousing rendition of love gone wrong. And the film’s startling conclusion features a neat twist that makes it all worthwhile.





Thursday, November 21, 2013

Raving Bloody Lesbians



Alcoholic, paranoid and nearly desperate at the thought of losing her long-running role on a BBC TV series, an aging actress lashes out at the world in general, and her much-younger female lover in particular. It’s a plot pregnant with dramatic possibilities, and The Killing of Sister George (1968) explores them all in frank and often explicit detail.


“Not all girls are raving bloody lesbians,” young Alice tells her jealous lover during one of their many altercations, but in this film’s insulated world, the vast majority are. This is far from just a movie about homosexuality, however. It’s a cautionary tale about the cutthroat world of show business and the terrors of growing old and being alone, set against the backdrop of the swinging mod London of the late 1960s and seen through the lens of sharply drawn female archetypes.


Beryl Reid in the title role


Directed by the legendary American auteur Robert Aldrich and based on the stage hit by British playwright (and theater critic) Frank Marcus, Sister George is as absorbing in its portrayal of the cynical world of TV production, where bustling, behind-the-scenes backstabbing is the bill of fare at the BBC, as it is when exploring the intimate moments of women in love and in conflict.  



As June Buckridge, aka Sister George, the beloved spinster character she plays on Applehurst (think Coronation Street or East Enders), Beryl Reid is at turns humorous, tragic, wistful, spiteful, warm and outrageous, but always compelling and endearingly human. Reid, a one-hit wonder whose film career never took off despite this legendary performance, commands the screen with her fully realized and in-depth characterization. Though the film, with its then-considered-unsanitary subject matter, was shunned by the Oscars (Oliver! was chosen that year’s Best Picture), Reid did receive a Golden Globe nomination as Best Actress for her tour de force portrayal.

Susannah York as Alice
The beautiful Susannah York aces the difficult role of Alice, the child-woman who chafes against George’s smothering and mood swings yet plays Virginia Woolf-worthy mind games herself and is not as innocent (or young) as she professes. The minute she meets the successful BBC program director Mrs. Croft (who pays a visit to George to rake the actress over the coals for unprofessional behavior), Alice makes plans to hitch her wagon to the high-powered lady executive and ditch her falling soap opera star lover. With her pixie hairdo (the rage of 1968 for gamines like York, Goldie Hawn and Mia Farrow) and soulful doe eyes, York’s performance is a skillful blend of intensity and vulnerability.



Coral Browne as Mercy Croft
The smug, uptight and terribly upper-crust BBC program director Mercy Croft is played with venomous finesse by the versatile character actress Coral Browne, best known for her iconic role as Vera Charles in Auntie Mame (and as the wife of the great Vincent Price). But here, as the frosty middle-aged widow whose latent tendencies are stimulated by George’s pretty blond flatmate, Browne is given her juiciest role ever, culminating in one of the most startling and searing sex scenes ever put on mainstream film up to that time. Far from a Penthouse soft-focus girl-on-girl fantasy, the love scene between the older and younger woman, as staged by Aldrich under unforgiving lighting in unrelenting close-up, is as much a ghoulish nod to his grand guignol roots (Whatever Happened to Baby Jane and Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte) as it is unexpected eroticism.






Chock full of irony and wit, not to mention loads of bitchy and catty repartee, Sister George is the female version of Boys in the Band, ground-breaking for its time and still eminently watchable.