Elizabeth Taylor = Brat
I've said it before I'll say it again
Elizabeth Taylor was the most iconic movie star of her time. We really don’t have a frame of reference today for quite how big she was. She was the first actor of any gender to be paid one million dollars to appear in a film (Cleopatra, above). This is the equivalent of ten million in today’s dollars. She was also one of the most vocal celebrity activists during the AIDS crisis, during which time she raised over $270 million for the cause, and also persuaded President Reagan to say the name of the disease for the first time in a speech in 1987. She was a big fucking deal — relentless, brave, unwavering. Like a lot of brats I know.
I took a queer studies class in college where the professor explained in the first lecture that it wasn’t considered academically appropriate to claim deceased historical figures as queer: Abraham Lincoln, say, or Emily Dickinson. Rather, one should use the terms those figures may have been familiar with in their time. Lincoln wasn’t bottoming for the man with whom he shared a bed — they were just romantic friends. Dickinson wasn’t an AFAB WLW, she just had some… special poems! I get this, I do, but this is hardly an academic undertaking over here. As such, I’m claiming Liz Taylor as a sub.
I think the urge to be a sub has existed throughout history. That’s why we’ve got Venus In Furs being published back in 1870. But the sub identity goes beyond masochism. The desire for sexy power exchange, many subs would argue, is one that’s bone deep. And yet, in prior generations, was probably pretty impossible for women to fulfill with male partners without falling into shitty and possibly dangerous gender roles. To the untrained ear, Liz’s desires in relationships may sound gravely un-feminist, a concession of power to men. Here she is discussing the end of her second marriage to Michael Wilding.
I think I sort of hen-pecked him. I tended to be a bit stronger than he was. I dominated him, and I thought he would dominate me. But he didn’t. And I need somebody to dominate me.
She found that fun dominance in producer Mike Todd, the love of her life. Just look at them:
They were often captured play-fighting, which the press characterized as real fighting. But just look at that picture! If that’s not a brat I don’t know what is.
Here’s Elizabeth on their relationship:
One time I was teasing him unmercifully and some photographer got a picture… I used to try sometimes to deliberately drive Mike mad. And I loved it when he then would lose his temper and dominate me. And I’d start to purr inside. Because he had won, and I hadn’t… I’d be late. Just fiddle around and be late. I suppose it was like testing my strength. Each time, hoping and praying that I would lose… I need [strength] in a man more than any other quality. Because I know myself and I know that I would try and get away with murder.
Well. Case closed.
Mike Todd died in a plane crash shortly after they were married, breaking Elizabeth’s heart and mine every time I think about it. I think she approximated the brat dynamic again with Richard Burton, but he was a little too moody to ever truly take Mike’s place. She referred to his frequent depressive periods as his “Welsh Hour” (which I’ve used to playfully refer to my own bipolar depression from time to time). Back then it was hard to fall accidentally into a cute D/s dynamic. The stakes were high, the missteps potentially fatal. But we can still see ourselves in our girl Liz. May all brats be bedecked in diamonds and lavished with love during play fights. Per Mike Todd on the diamonds:
Well, Mrs. Todd is my favorite person in the whole world and there’s no secret about it. And I’m very fortunate to get my hands on a few dollars occasionally. And I think there’s no better way to spend it than to try to spoil Elizabeth. You can’t — Somebody once said, ‘Is Elizabeth Spoiled?’ And I said, ‘I know nothing more pleasant than trying to spoil her. I won’t be able to, I don’t think.
For more Elizabeth Taylor lore, check out the new doc on Max about her life called Elizabeth Taylor: The Lost Tapes. Even better, read Kate Anderson Brower’s fabulous biography Elizabeth Taylor: The Grit and Glamour of an Icon.
And for more brat content check out this episode I did with brat expert (and squirting world champion) Lola Jean: