BY TAYLOR MARSH
I’ve loved movies all of my life.
Growing up in Missouri when the state wasn’t a place for girls who wanted to
go big places and dream big things, movies were my escape, my refuge, my world.
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It didn’t take long for me to know that creative artistry would be my first
road, right up until I was old enough to become active in breaking out beyond
my roots as a young woman fighting against traditionalism in the face of a new
revolution of feminism. So is it any wonder I marveled at Kate Hepburn, Barbara Stanwyck and Bette Davis… Barbra Streisand? From dancer to Broadway performer, while flexing my
feminist nature and political curiosity, movies became a refuge for this female
rebel.
The first time I saw Paul Newman on the screen he stunned me. “Cat on
a Hot Tin Roof” remains one of my favorite performances of his.
The first time I came into contact with Newman’s civic commitment and generosity,
along with his wife’s, Joanne Woodward, I was in New York City on Broadway. I
never met them, but I was more than aware of their philanthropy and support
of the dance. A bastard art, especially beyond ballet, with few taking seriously
the importance of this demanding creative sport. Newman, along with his wife,
were always in the news back in those days, forever speaking about the importance
of investing in dance, the choreographers and the troops that traveled taking
dancers and the arts around the country.
But to the wider world Paul Newman will obviously be remembered for his films.
His IT factor. His HUNK quotient. Though if you watch a film like “The
Verdict,” his stunning acting prowess shakes you with the naked force of
its honesty.
There will never be another like him. Not ever. Replacing The Titans of Film is impossible.
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