1958 - Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

Recently, I've had the opportunity to twice visit a cinema here in Sydney that I've written about before - the Ritz. On the weekend, I took the whole family to see a special screening of Inside Out 2 (I guess we contributed to the film's immense global box office numbers). And while I'm sure the Ritz's main revenue must come from new releases like that, it's one of the very few movie theatres in town that has a robust classic film program, including many 35mm and 70mm screenings. There's a complete Kubrick retrospective imminent, but it's the year-long Classic Matinees series that will likely see me returning often, as I did yesterday for the following film.

So let's take a look at another picture from 1958's Best Picture shortlist...


Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
Director:
Richard Brooks
Screenplay:
Richard Brooks & James Poe
(based on the play by Tennessee Williams)
Starring:
Elizabeth Taylor, Paul Newman, Burl Ives, Jack Carson, Judith Anderson, Madeleine Sherwood, Larry Gates, Vaughn Taylor
Academy Awards:
6 nominations
0 wins

The wealthy Pollitt family gathers together at their estate in Mississippi to celebrate the birthday of patriarch Big Daddy (Ives). Brick (Newman), a morose and alcoholic ex-athlete, pines for his glory days while neglecting his wife Maggie (Taylor). Consequently, the couple have no children, while Brick's brother Gooper (Carson) and his wife Mae (Sherwood) have five with another on the way. With Big Daddy's ailing health on everyone's minds, the family's long-held secrets begin to emerge.

While my usual gripe about stage adaptations is indeed applicable here, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof finds a way to be captivating despite those issues. There are plenty of long scenes heavy with dialogue, and while some of them test the audience's patience, others contain such high levels of tension that we almost don't want them to end. On the other hand, the theatricality is very apparent in the direction. Brick, in particular, is often seen staring past the camera with his brooding blue eyes as another character pontificates directly behind him. Staging like this might be a necessity in the theatre, where there is no fourth wall, but on screen, perhaps because it is so closely associated with soap operas, it can seem superficial and melodramatic.

Tennessee Williams, esteemed author of the source material, was apparently displeased with what he considered to be a watered down version of his play. Despite my experience with and love of the theatre, I was shamefully not all that familiar with the play, so while watching this film, it wasn't immediately obvious to me why Brick was experiencing such inner turmoil. Reading between the lines, I suspected that there was more to the relationship between Brick and his late buddy Skipper, but that topic of discussion was treated so vaguely, I wasn't sure if I was just imagining it. I'm not entirely sure the blame for that should be with the filmmakers, though. While 1950s Hollywood had begun exploring civil rights (as evidenced by fellow nominee The Defiant Ones), homosexuality on film was still very much in the closet, so to speak, thanks to the draconian Hays Code. And considering how greatly the characters expound on the topic of mendacity, there's an amusingly appropriate irony in the fact that a film about secrets was forced to keep one of its own.

The performances by each and every one of this accomplished ensemble are phenomenal. Everyone has their moment to shine. Paul Newman (pictured) is spectacular, expressing volumes with beautiful subtlety. Judith Anderson is also a standout as the matriarch trying to keep her family life in tact. Others of note are Jack Carson as the oft-dismissed brother fighting for his share, and Burl Ives, reprising the role of Big Daddy from the original Broadway production. Both Newman and Elizabeth Taylor garnered Oscar nominations for their lead performances. The film also snagged nods for Picture, Director, Adapted Screenplay and Color Cinematography, but walked away empty-handed.