Elizabeth Taylor: Rebel Superstar Review - OtakuCulture

Passion Pictures / Coming to Hollywood Suite Dec. 26

At long last, the BBC documentary Elizabeth Taylor: Rebel Superstar is turning up on additional distribution channels. Not only does it offer a revealing look at the old studio system, it also delivers a fitting examination of Taylor’s life. Not everyone today understands how that system functioned, and I appreciate this work for acting as both a reminder and an introduction to how things once worked. Although she hit the scene years after Chaplin and the true Golden Age, she endured through its twilight and well into the Silver Age.

One detail that truly hits a nerve is how young performers were treated. They were expected to “perform” whenever required and were handled as commodities rather than people. While this exploitation predated the case of Jackie Coogan, whose earnings were famously squandered, the documentary makes clear that the damage took many forms.

See the full article from Ed Sum at OtakuCulture here.

Taylor managed to survive it, though the story is largely told through her children’s perspectives and a handful of archival interviews. More could have been done here, especially when considering how performers have continued to allege similar treatment well into the present. It’s difficult not to think of Ariana Grande or Jennette McCurdy while watching. The latter took ownership of her life, and the former, well…. Looking more recently, Jenna Ortega and Zendaya appear to be navigating similiar pressures. Much like them, Taylor’s early years reveal just how little control she truly had. From her teens in the 40s, treated as property by studio executives, to her rise as a powerhouse in the 50s, management came from many directions.

She had agents, but by her own admission, her parents and the studio exerted the real authority. By the time Elizabeth Taylor Rebel Superstar became the Queen of Egypt in 20th Century Fox’s biggest gamble, that balance had shifted more in her favour. Even when she stepped away from the limelight to become the wife of a senator, the media refused to let her disappear. Later, after publicly acknowledging her addictions and seeking help, something changed for the better.

What’s less commonly discussed is her brush with death prior to the production of Cleopatra, a moment the documentary doesn’t shy away from. Among the works highlighted is The Grit & Glamour of an Icon by Kate Andersen Brower. I can’t speak to the depth of that book, but its “official” status stems from estate endorsement.

There’s no denying that Taylor didn’t command the same level of fame in her later years, but the third part of the series offers a solid recap of that period. What stands out most is her shift in purpose. She surrounded herself with men who were forced to remain quiet about their sexual orientation and spoke openly about those relationships later in life.

She once said, “I’ve spent a lot of time with gay men – Montgomery Clift, Jimmy Dean, Rock Hudson. They were my colleagues, coworkers, confidants, and my closest friends.” That perspective matters. To see her on stage with Queen during Live Aid helped cement a legacy that extended far beyond film. I’m glad this segment was included, because what she said had staying power. For viewers who fixate only on her scandals, this portion may prove genuinely eye-opening.

Structurally, Elizabeth Taylor Rebel Superstar feels more like a primer than a deep dive. Each fifty-minute segment can only explore so much. While her romantic life dominates much of the narrative, I found myself wanting more insight into her private inner life rather than additional recounting of industry gossip. Her children, particularly Naomi and Chris Wilding, provide some of that texture, and their contributions are genuinely appreciated.

Much like Elizabeth Taylor The Lost Tapes, released around the same time, this documentary leans toward presenting her as a wholesome role model. Given the scandals she generated herself, including relationships with married men, that framing can feel strained. What ultimately emerges instead is a truer portrait of a rebel, and perhaps that’s where the film succeeds most.

As for whether her third husband, Mike Todd, was “the one,” that’s impossible to answer. She was clearly searching for love, and I couldn’t help but think of “Looking for Trade” from Shock Treatment. It’s a different world entirely, yet the lyrics feel uncannily apt.

Whatever the documentary’s ultimate goal, it effectively captures the predatory nature of celebrity culture, the media’s hunger, and what Taylor herself came to represent. Reflections from family and friends suggest she understood that with great recognition comes great responsibility. A deliberate play on words, perhaps, but one that feels earned. The series gives her children space to speak honestly about both the good and the bad. If Taylor is looking down from Heaven now, it’s easy to imagine a knowing smile rather than offence. She would’ve said, “That’s how I lived, darling.”