Howard Hawks defined a good film as “three good scenes and no bad ones.” Suddenly, Last Summer has four very good scenes dominated by one of the two great great actresses who play the leads – or, in one instance, both.
These are long scenes but never boring, and we are at all times bolted to our seats, our eyes glued to the screen; Katharine Hepburn and Elizabeth Taylor give different, even contrasting performances – the one as a crazy, rich, old lady who feigns sanity, the other as a traumatized yet sane young woman who is “classified as violent” –, but the result is in either case nothing short of magnetic : we can’t stop looking at Taylor, and we dare not look away from Hepburn (after all of her scenes had been shot, Hepburn reportedly spat in the faces of director Joseph L. Mankiewicz and producer Sam Spiegel).
We are drawn toward, and gravitate around, the two of them – not unlike the other characters (as few as one and as many as the rest of the main cast in any given scene), who are little more than bystanders, the actors who portray them VIP audience members fortunate enough to watch a pair of masters of the craft from up-close.
Actually, there is one other presence looming large over the proceedings – that of Sebastian Venable, Hepburn’s only son and Taylor’s cousin, whose implied homosexuality Hepburn hopes to cover up by having Taylor lobotomized by Montgomery Clift’s neurosurgeon.
As he died before the events of the film, Sebastian is oft-mentioned but never seen other than in glimpses while Taylor flashbacks to the titular last summer. This is not a bad scene, but a good scene with some bad in it; it’s not a full-on flashback with a voice-over narration as much as it is a monologue with visual aids that are unnecessary – for one thing, they are absent from Tennessee Williams’s stage play, and here they detract from the performance; the actress playing the role, whoever it may be, should be able – and Liz most certainly was – to create the imagery with her own language, both verbal and facial.
Moreover, there are a couple of background details in the flashbacks that don’t make any sense; for example, a skeleton that becomes an old woman in the next shot – something like this is meant to be a part the character’s recollection of past events, but she herself takes no notice of it, and the people listening to her have no possible way of knowing it’s there at all; the question, then, is why, indeed, is it there? Is Mankiewicz trying to tell us something about her subconscious mind? (and if so, what exactly?). Or was he the one subconsciously – and, thank God, unsuccessfully – trying to sabotage the film? I know I wouldn’t put it past a Mankiewicz.
