The V.I.P.s

A product! That's what this is. Beautifully wrapped but inside, a potential for heartburn. Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor at the height of their popularity then, are hopelessly dated now. But, the Maggie Smith and Rod Taylor story is just great. Moving and funny. Orson Welles in another piece of self indulgence and self parody is priceless and so is the Academy Award winner Margaret Rutherford. Louis Jourdan, poor thing, as a gigolò - still, he spends the entire film, thinking that he'll be able to take Elizabeth Taylor away from Richard Burton - All that makes the film, almost sink. But put up with them to enjoy the rewards of Rod, Maggie, Orson and Margaret dealing with Terence Rattigan's enjoyable dialogue.

Much of the action focused on a romantic triangle involving a pampered wife, a wealthy husband, and a penniless playboy lover…

Liz once again is the neglected wife, comforting herself with a lover (Jordan)… When the destitute husband is threatened by his wife's departure who has given her diamonds instead of affection, Burton shows he cares… Liz, unyielding however; wants him to suffer…

Taylor's performance is cool and serene… Her face undisturbed by normal human expression… Playing an instigator of male insecurity, she is, for a change, altogether lovely to look at…

Maggie Smith plays the trusty secretary in love with her Australian boss Rod Taylor… Orson Welles's arrogant character provides the comic relief… Margaret Rutherford won a Best Supporting Oscar for her delightful role as the eccentric elderly duchess

Seven years before "Airport," there was this similarly laid out, lush MGM soap, which wasn't produced by Ross Hunter but looks like it could have been. The stars, the fashions, the mid-century-modern sets, the Miklos Rosza themes grinding and repeating in the background, all speak to a more innocent, more optimistic time. And best of all, while Hunter had only Perlberg and Seaton to bring Arthur Hailey's novel to the screen, MGM had the super-literate, super-crafty Terrence Rattigan to provide his own original story, expertly plotted out to afford a plethora of wide-screen star-gazing. Elizabeth Taylor, resplendent in St. Laurent, is about to leave Richard Burton for lounge lizard Louis Jourdan, but their plane is fogged in at Heathrow and Burton catches up to them, allowing for some civilized sniping between the two men, neither of whom seems good enough for her. Meantime, Dino di Laurentiis-like producer Orson Welles has to be out of Britain by midnight to escape some tax burdens; duchess Margaret Rutherford is headed unhappily to a new job in Florida to pay expenses for her Brighton mansion; and tractor maker Rod Taylor, subject to a hostile takeover, needs 150,000 pounds to cover a bad check, in which he's ably assisted by his plain-Jane secretary, Maggie Smith (all Janes should be this plain). Rattigan's epigrammatic screenplay darts dazzlingly between the four story lines, and he's instinctively fair-minded; nobody's all good or all bad, and even Linda Christian, as Rod Taylor's shallow girlfriend, isn't entirely reprehensible. Everybody's great fun to watch, and interesting people like Michael Hordern and Robert Coote and David Frost can be glimpsed in supporting roles, but the movie really belongs to the two Maggies. Rutherford picked up a supporting Oscar for playing essentially what she'd been playing for the previous 25 years, but who deserved it more, and she's not only pricelessly funny but unexpectedly touching. And Smith, silently loving her boss Rod Taylor (and who wouldn't), effortlessly steals a particularly good scene from Burton, bringing on the third act and walking off with the rest of the movie. Deep it isn't, and Rosza's themes feel a little obvious (I grew to hate that cutesy-English strain underlying every Rutherford scene), but what a luxuriously entertaining ride. That the prime storyline is based on Rattigan's own observation of the Vivien Leigh-Laurence Olivier-Peter Finch triangle being played out at the airport a few years before only adds to our sumptuous enjoyment.

but a fascinating melodrama also. This was the first movie Liz Taylor and Richard Burton made as a married couple.

The story is by Terence Rattigan who apparently based it on a scene he observed in the VIP lounge of London Airport when Vivien Leigh made plans to run away with Peter Finch and was stopped by her husband, Laurence Olivier.

It is well filmed, way ahead of its time in certain segments where other minor characters are playing in the background of the scene, a continuum not employed in movies until the nineties (this was filmed in the early 60s).

Some of the script is a hoot, the fact that Liz and her lover are running away without ever having "made love". Richard and Liz both overact dramatically. But the cast make it well worth watching.

Maggie Smith is particularly vulnerable as a secretary, she is yet to find the acerbic edge that laces her subsequent movies. Margaret Rutherford is particularly good as a Duchess who has to go earn a living in America to save her stately home. More scenes with her would have been a treat.

7 out of 10, totally watchable and almost sinful in the enjoyment of same, it is just so deliciously shallow.

The setting is London, and Frances Andros (Taylor), the wife of shipping magnate Paul Andros (Burton) says goodbye to her husband at the airport, where he thinks she is bound for Jamaica. After he leaves, it is revealed that she is meeting her new love Marc Champselle (Jourdan), a notorious international playboy who has fallen head over heels in love with her. Both are going to eschew their old lives and fly to New York, but are dismayed to discover that their plane is grounded due to heavy fog. Unfortunately, Frances has chosen to let Paul know about her plans via a "Dear John" note that she leaves at their house, and of course, Paul (influential in both money and power) comes back to the airport to demand his wife's return. Also inconvenienced by the fog is Les Mangrum (Taylor), an Australian businessman who has been fighting with a larger company for months to avoid a corporate takeover, and finally has the number of shares needed; until one of his associates turns against him and sells him out to the new company, forcing Mangrum to write a bad check on the share price difference. Thinking he can have another associate cover his check before the act becomes a bona fide felony, Mangrum knows that if he can get to New York in time for the board meeting everything will be okay, but the plane delay quashes all hope for this. Mangrum decides to spend one last night in London drinking champagne and living the high life with his trusty, loyal and prim secretary Miss Mead (Smith), who is secretly in love with him. Two other story arcs that aren't as prominent involve Max Buda (Welles), an acclaimed film director traveling with starlet Gloria Gritti (Martinelli) who finds himself forced into the position of marrying her, despite his obvious contempt, in order to save millions in taxes. And finally there is The Duchess of Brighton (Rutherford) an elderly eccentric who is flying to Miami in order to work on a project that will pay her enough to keep her large castle, despite the fact that she doesn't want to leave London. All of the above players are first ensconced in the airport's VIP lounge, and later, an airport hotel, where their personal dramas (and foibles) all play out and work themselves out, one way or another.

I had read an article about this film in Vanity Fair a couple of years ago, and it detailed various behind-the-scenes facts about the film, namely the burgeoning romance between Burton and Taylor, who were the Jolie/Pitt of their day, only on an exponential scale. Their chemistry in this film is very pervasive, and really add depth to both of their characters. Surprisingly, I found that Taylor and Smith had an enormous amount of synergy, most of it due to Smith's portrayal of Miss Mead as mousy, yet practically bursting at the seams with respect and love for Mangrum. Margaret Rutherford, who is a revered British stage and screen actress, won an Academy Award for her funny, yet slightly heart-breaking portrayal of a woman with a title and not much else. The only story line that I found obnoxious was the Orson Welles/Elsa Martinelli one. It contained so little depth and such a minimal amount of compelling moments that I found myself getting annoyed whenever I had to waste precious viewing time watching their story arc rather than being able to watch more of the other well-written, well-acted ones contained in the film. Admittedly, Orson Welles is a long-time hero of mine, and there were times when his sarcastic portrayal of the pompous director made me chuckle, but those moments didn't save his scenes in the slightest.

"The V.I.P.s" is as lush and colorful as a Sirk film, and Taylor is decked out in glamorous gowns and furs, but I was shocked to find myself really becoming wrapped up in the story lines and the acting, whereas I had planned on watching a fluff piece that had a bunch of attractive people enacting what would essentially be a soap opera with a multi-million dollar budget. Critics in 1963 expected to marginalize the film the same way I did, and were surprised (and not always pleased) to find that "The V.I.P.s" is actually quite a good film. A lot of the stars of the film had already done some of their most recognizable and lauded work by the time this film had been released, Smith would achieve a great amount of recognition within a couple of years, and Rutherford was at the tail end of her life, but all of them (with the possible exception of Welles and Martinelli, though I believe a lot of it was the material they were given) pulled together to make a film that is surprisingly compelling, very well acted and unfortunately, mostly forgotten. 7/10 --Shelly