Revisited some of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof with Liz Taylor and Paul Newman.
How gorgeous and weird a production it is, and what a knockout she is in her silken white dress with its deep vee.
And, something I’d totally forgotten, what an amazing crutch walker is Newman’s Brick.
It’s not a real broken ankle, Gil reminds me. But still, to be able to swing around the room like that, spilling nary a drop of his whiskey, a single wooden crutch under one arm?
His real crutch of course his his addiction to alcohol.
Or what about the incredible gymnastics that occur when Newman takes a swing at Taylor’s Maggie with the crutch, ending up on the rug, the both of them smiling ruefully. Why is Uncle Brick on the floor? asks one of the little no-neck monsters. Because I tried to kill your Aunt Maggie, says Brick. But I failed. And I fell. Eyes of blue, achilles heel.
I wonder if Tennessee Williams ever had to go around on crutches.