Bulle ogier biography of rory

DAVID FOX: Cameron, I realize that, cinematically speaking, I’ve grown accustomed to thinking of Tennessee Williams in black and white. Most of the early films are shot that way, and in many—Streetcar and The Fugitive Kind especially—the shadowy Noir quality feels just right. A notable exception is Cat on a Hot Tin Roof: like Sweet Bird of Youth, which we’re considering today, it was directed and co-written by Richard Brooks, and filmed in Metrocolor, which lends an overripe, almost garish underscoring to that play’s theme of nouveau riche-ness. Though there is some necessary-for-the-time but unfortunate cutting and censoring parts of the play, I consider that Cat film generally one of the most successful Williams adaptations. I wish I could say the same about Brooks’ Sweet Bird of Youth. But despite some exceptional elements—including, of course, Geraldine Page and Paul Newman recreating their Broadway roles here—the whole thing is a bit of a mess. Also, a missed opportunity: the rapier edge at the heart of both the play’s emotional core and its high-camp subtext feels (almost literally, given the denouement) neutered. It isn’t entirely Brooks’ fault, though he makes some crucial misjudgments (more on that later). It’s also that Williams’ original play,

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