Another Hollywood's Golden Age star has died, leaving us with the feeling that anyone will never bright as she did. In a time when the 7th art was focused on the greatness of humankind and such praiseworthy Renaissance motivations, in contrast with nowadays blockbusters based on special effects and complicated plots, actors were the sole protagonists of the screen, the center part of the picture frame. Either their characters and psychological motivations, or their appearance and body language were revealed fully to the spectator, thus interpretation had to be brilliant. These films were not action-packet, but in fact they did not need to, because they were just mere works of art, masterpieces. And it was due to the grandeur of its stars.
But what was the Liz phenomenom? She could be Cleopatra or a cat on a hot tin roof, or whatever she wanted to. And it was not due to her electric purple eyes or her stunning beauty and sexiness, but because of all the emotions and vibrations she was able to express on screen, going far away interpretation, but she herself. This magic halo she subtlety revealed was shaped by she as a whole: her character, her humanity and her passion for life. Will be her now arguing Brick (Paul Newman) or winning the heart of Marc Antony (Richard Burton) somewhere? The brightness of her star will never die.
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