Maggie claws her way to B’klyn
‘Cat on a Hot Tin Roof’ & other Southern Gothic movies will screen at BAM
IF Paul Newman and Elizabeth Taylor are together in a film and there’s no sexual chemistry, there’s either something wrong with that picture — or you’ve wandered into Hollywood’s “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.”
Taylor was at the height of her beauty in 1958, when Hollywood filmed Tennes- see Williams’ Pulitzer Prizewinning play, a Southern Gothic stew of misery and melodrama. Taylor played Maggie the Cat, the tragically frustrated wife of Brick, the alcoholic, repressed homosexual played by an equally pretty Newman. Tortured sexuality and family secrets coming to a boil in the sultry summer air were common subjects for Wil- liams — and Hollywood directors of the ’50s and ’60s couldn’t get enough of him.
Several adaptations of his work are on display in the Southern Gothic film series, which starts a two-week run Monday at the Brooklyn Academy of Music.
“People screaming and sweating is a good summer series,” says Nellie Killian, who put together the eclectic collection of films, both celebrated and relatively unknown.
On the bill, aptly enough, is “The Long, Hot Summer.” Screening Tuesday, it’s an adaptation of William Faulkner stories, starring Newman and his future wife, Joanne Woodward. Quotable classics such as the Oscarwinning “A Streetcar Named Desire” and “Baby Doll” are joined by curiosities (“Eve’s Bayou”) and unsung gems (Cannes Film Festival darling “Shy People”).
The series kicks off with the 1971 Civil War sexual-revenge drama “The Beguiled,” starring Clint Eastwood and Geraldine Page. It’s been remade and cleaned up by Sofia Coppola; the new version will screen at BAM on Thursday.
Killian believes these hot- house dramas attracted big talents because the roles were so rich, especially for women.
Taylor flourished during this era, with starring roles in “Reflections in a Golden Eye” and in the outrageous “Suddenly, Last Summer.” The latter film, screening July 10, was shocking in its day with themes of mental illness and cannibalism.
Maybe it’s the climate, but when characters go crazy in Southern films, you can’t help but be mesmerized. When Blanche DuBois gets carted off to the looney bin at the end of “A Streetcar Named Desire,” you realize you’ve been holding your breath watching her go.