Some of my best leading men have been dogs and horses.
Elizabeth in Cleopatra, 1963.
© Twentieth Century-Fox Film Corporation/Photofest
Once the Taylor family arrived in California—a destination they chose because Sara’s widowed father, a chicken farmer, lived in Pasadena—Francis opened a new art gallery at the Château Élysée hotel in Hollywood. Sara had hoped their return to the United States would be temporary, and the family would move back to England after the war. Once the gallery was in business, however, she knew they were in California to stay. Summoning her inner resolve, she dedicated herself to rebuilding her family in America. And if there’s one thing Hollywood can offer, it’s reinvention.
The Taylors soon moved from their temporary home in Pasadena to the Pacific Palisades. There, the Taylors’ neighbors included many celebrities—among them, Darryl F. Zanuck, head of Twentieth-Century Fox and actress Norma Shearer—and young Elizabeth quickly caught their attention. Friends suggested that the Taylors have Elizabeth screen-tested for the role of Vivien Leigh’s daughter in the upcoming Gone with the Wind. What Elizabeth lacked in dramatic talent—at least at the time—she more than made up for with a gorgeous face that, even at a young age, Hollywood A-listers knew the camera would love. It didn’t take long for MGM execs, referred by friends in the business, to come knocking.
Upon seeing her mile-long gaze, Louis B. Mayer reportedly snapped, “Sign her up, sign her up. What are you waiting for?” And so began Elizabeth’s perilously long and meandering relationship with the Hollywood studios, as she moved back and forth between heavyweights MGM and Universal for a long list of films that included There’s One Born Every Minute, Lassie Come Home, Jane Eyre, and The White Cliffs of Dover (her roles in the latter two were uncredited). Her studio relationships may have kept her bound to tight contracts and grueling, regimented filming and schooling schedules, yet MGM and Universal delivered the world to her on a plate—all before the age of eleven. No wonder Elizabeth had mixed feelings about it all, saying in her later years, “I never wanted a career; it was forced on me.”
In 1944, Elizabeth’s fame skyrocketed when she starred in National Velvet. Not only did the film make her a household name, but it was harbinger of the intense sensuality that Elizabeth would later deliver both on screen, as her public persona, and to an extent as a wife. Speaking about King Charles, the horse that plays The Pie in the film, Elizabeth said, “The [studio was] afraid for me to ride him. But he loves me.…You don’t have to worry about King.…You just leave everything up to him. I think that he likes to know that I leave it to him—that he’s the boss and I love him.” She expressed similar sentiments about love and the sense of duty for each of her seven husbands—at least at the start of those marriages.
After National Velvet, Elizabeth went on to star in a string of films, most of which became classics—A Place in the Sun, Giant, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, BUtterfield 8, and Suddenly, Last Summer. Of course, in that mix were some real duds, such as The Comedians and A Little Night Music. Then there were the huge hits—Cleopatra and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?—the two films that made Elizabeth a living legend. In the latter, because she gave what many consider to be the performance of a lifetime and for which she won an Academy Award for Best Actress. The former was notorious for its extraordinary length and expensive production, and the part it played in her internationally scandalous love affair with Richard Burton. As the love of her life, he was the only man capable of matching her passions. Their romance was a fifteen-year odyssey (if one counts the years encompassing their affair and marriages, but twenty-four, if one counts the years until Burton’s death) that ignited the silver screen and fascinated audiences the world over. Their relationship became one of the most defining and tumultuous of the twentieth century.
On overcoming shyness
I was constricted by shyness—I still am—and acting meant I could be at least behind someone else’s façade.
Everything makes me nervous, except making films.
Elizabeth in Courage of Lassie, 1946.
© MGM
On talent
I don’t presume to be a great actress. I presume to be an effective actress.
On career ambivalence
I never cared whether or not I was an actress, especially when I was a very little girl.
Much of my life I’ve hated acting.
On the difference between being an actress and movie star
What I would really like is to be good enough [at acting] for people to think of me as an actress, not a movie star. But it is very difficult once you have become part of the public domain to be taken seriously. Part of me is sorry that I became a public utility.
On the importance of being selective later in her career
By not being consumed by ambition, I can wait for the films I really want to do.
On film acting
I think film acting can be an art, and certainly the camera can move in and grab hold of your mind—so the emotion has got to be there behind your eyes, behind your heart.
Spencer Tracy and Elizabeth in Father of the Bride, 1950.
© MGM
On her roles
At least once a year I play a has-been actress…I’m a great success at playing has-beens.
The first time I was asked to do any real acting was A Place in the Sun.
On an actor’s intuition
Whatever it is I may have in acting—that part of me is miniscule—it’s not technique. It’s instinct and a certain ability to concentrate.
On her favorite leading men
RICHARD BURTON
I’m just a broad, but Richard is a great actor.
Richard was magnificent in every sense of the word…and in everything he did. He was magnificent on the stage, magnificent in film, he was magnificent at making love…at least to me.
MONTGOMERY CLIFT
As far as I’m concerned, he introduced a new dimension to screen acting.
Only two actors I know, Monty [Clift] and Richard [Burton], give to the degree that it’s almost a physical thing, like an umbilical cord, an electricity that goes back and forth.
Elizabeth and Montgomery Clift in A Place in the Sun, 1951.
© Paramount Pictures
The most gorgeous thing in the world and easily one of the best actors.
Though we were linked romantically by the media, I sensed from the beginning that Monty was torn between what he thought he should be and what he actually was.
CLARK GABLE
He was the epitome of a movie star—so romantic, such bearing, such friendliness.
ROCK HUDSON
He was one of the most important people in my life. He was my closest friend.
James Dean, Elizabeth, and Rock Hudson on the set of Giant, 1956.
© Warner Bros.
RODDY McDOWALL
[He] is really the perfect friend.
Elizabeth and Roddy McDowall at the Egyptian Theatre, Hollywood, 1949.
© Photofest
SPENCER TRACY
He had a stillness, a quietness about him that spoke more than volumes, and it just was mesmerizing.
JOHN WAYNE
He is as tough as an old nut and as soft as a yellow ribbon.
On success
Success is a great deodorant. It takes away all your past smells.
Power is being able to do what you want to do.
“I want it all quickly ’cause I don’t want God to stop and think and wonder if I’m getting more than my share.”
—As Velvet Brown, National Velvet, 1944
On the public
The public puts you up on a pedestal and then they wait like vultures to tear you down.
The day came, of course, when I got a bit famous.
Elizabeth in BUtterfield 8, 1960.
© 1978 Bernie Abramson/mptvimages.com
© Paramount Pictures (Gianni Rozzacchi)
The public seems to revel in the imperfections of the famous, the heroes, and to want to be in a position of attacking—which I guess makes them feel a little bit superior. So I would have delighted lots of fans throughout the world. If anybody has given them an opportunity to feel superior, I have.
Why couldn’t they let me grow up like Suzy Smith with a house in the suburbs, a husband who takes the 8:10, and three fat, saucy kids?
On the difference between her public responsibility and her private life
I owe the public who pays to see me on the screen the best performance I can give. As to how I live my personal life, my responsibility is to the people directly involved with me.
On her films
NATIONAL VELVET
As a child I adored being in films, just as long as there was an animal in them.
National Velvet was really me.
I worked harder on that film than on any other movie in my life.
Mickey Rooney and Elizabeth in National Velvet, 1944.
© MGM
CAT ON A HOT TIN ROOF
“You know what I feel like? I feel all the time like a cat on a hot tin roof.”
—As Maggie, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, 1958
Paul Newman and Elizabeth in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, 1958.
© MGM
CLEOPATRA
I really don’t remember much about Cleopatra. There were a lot of other things going on.
After my last shot, there was a curiously sad sort of aching, empty feeling—but such astronomical relief. It was finally over. It was like a disease, shooting that film—an illness one had a very difficult time recuperating from.
ON BEING PAID ONE MILLION DOLLARS FOR CLEOPATRA
That’s an idiotic amount to be paid, but when I was growing up, the studio always made me feel like so much meat on the hook. Nowadays, when I can be cool about a million dollars, I feel like a nice big steak.
If someone’s dumb enough to offer me a million dollars to make a picture, I’m certainly not dumb enough to turn it down.
THE SANDPIPER
We’re [Richard Burton and Elizabeth] supposed to play two people in love, and I must say, when we look at each other, it’s like our eyes have fingers and they grab ahold.
WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF?
That [film] was fun. It was very cathartic, too, because we [Richard Burton and Elizabeth] would get all our shouting and bawling out on the set and go home and cuddle.
Richard [Burton] and I went on the Drinking Man’s Diet after we made Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? It worked for awhile, and then we dropped the “diet” and just continued drinking. I can’t think of a program worse for the liver.
I’ve never had a better time in my life.
In the years since [Richard Burton’s] death, I had avoided watching his movies because it was too painful.…I couldn’t hide forever and started watching [Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?]. As the movie progressed, I was overcome with such a sense of joy and pride. We did something okay, something we’ll always have…how lucky I was to have been a part of it.…God, we were good together.
I had a character to grab ahold of and sink my nails into. [The script] pro-vided wonderful words to wrap your lips around.
Richard and I would be out with friends and I’d hear myself saying to him, “For Chrissakes, shut up. I’m not finished talking.” And then the next morning, I would think, “That wasn’t me, it was Martha.” I had to fight to regain myself.
Martha completely took me over.
Elizabeth and Richard Burton in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, 1966.
© Warner Bros.
“I’m loud and I’m vulgar, and I wear the pants in the house because somebody’s got to, but I am not a monster. I’m not.”
—As Martha, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, 1966
I have totally divorced myself from Martha so when I’m doing Martha, I completely forget anything else I’ve ever done, or ever was, or ever will be. It’s almost like a split personality kind of thing.…I can turn Martha on now. It’s the easiest role I’ve ever played. It’s difficult playing yourself. And Martha is so remote from me.
TO DIRECTOR MIKE NICHOLS ON THE SET OF WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF?
I can’t act until you say “action.”
On accepting her Academy Award for Best Actress for BUtterfield 8
I don’t really know how to express my gratitude for this and for everything. All I can say is thank you, thank you with all of my heart.