Olivia: Alright Jackson, before we dive in, give me your one-sentence, gut-reaction summary of Elizabeth Taylor. Jackson: Okay... Diamonds, drama, and a different husband for every day of the week. How'd I do? Olivia: Close! But you missed the part where she stared down a President and changed the world. That's the story we're telling today, drawn from Kate Andersen Brower's book, Elizabeth Taylor: The Grit & Glamour of an Icon. Jackson: The grit and glamour. I like that. It feels like most biographies just focus on the glamour. Olivia: Exactly. And Brower gets to the grit because this isn't just another biography. It's the first one her family ever authorized. She got access to Taylor's private letters, her diaries, and interviewed over 250 people who knew her best. Jackson: Whoa, so this is the inside story. That changes things. It's not just speculation from the outside. Olivia: It's the story from the inside out. And that access is key, because to understand the icon, you have to start with the girl who was basically owned by a movie studio.

Jackson: Owned by a studio? That sounds a bit dramatic. What exactly was the 'studio system' back then? Olivia: It was total control. Imagine being a child, but your boss is also your parent, your school, and your landlord. MGM dictated her education in a one-room schoolhouse on the studio lot. They controlled who she dated for publicity. They even tried to change her appearance, wanting to cap her teeth and pluck her famously thick eyebrows. She was their property, their "chattel" as the book says. Jackson: That's suffocating. I can't imagine growing up like that. It must have created a certain kind of person. Olivia: It created a fighter. There's this incredible story from when she was a teenager. Her mother, Sara, who was a classic stage mom, had a meeting with the head of MGM, the legendary Louis B. Mayer. He was arguably the most powerful man in Hollywood. Jackson: And his office was designed to intimidate, right? I've heard stories about that long walk to his desk. Olivia: The longest, most terrifying walk in Hollywood. And in that office, Mayer starts screaming at Sara, calling her names, saying he'd "taken her out of the gutter." And sixteen-year-old Elizabeth, who was just supposed to sit there and be pretty, stands up and says, "Don't you dare speak to my mother like that. You and your studio can go to hell." Jackson: No way. She said that to Louis B. Mayer? As a kid? What happened? Was she fired? Olivia: Nothing happened. And that was the lesson. She wrote about it later, realizing, "I must have some kind of intrinsic monetary value to them... They needed me." She learned right then that her value was her power. She wasn't just a person; she was a product. A very, very valuable one. Jackson: Okay, that clicks. So all the stories about her being a demanding diva later in life... you're saying it started here? As a survival mechanism? Olivia: It's more than survival; it's rebellion. It's the direct line to her becoming a trailblazer. Fast forward to the filming of Cleopatra. She's the biggest star in the world, and 20th Century Fox needs her. So she makes a demand that was completely unheard of. Jackson: The million-dollar salary. Olivia: The first actor, male or female, to ever negotiate a million-dollar contract. And people called her greedy, they called her a diva. But you have to look at the context. At the time, a top star like Audrey Hepburn was making around $750,000 for Breakfast at Tiffany's. Natalie Wood got $250,000 for West Side Story. Elizabeth didn't just ask for more; she demanded a paradigm shift. Jackson: So it wasn't just a power trip. It was a calculated business move from someone who knew her exact worth because she'd been treated like a commodity her whole life. Olivia: Precisely. She also demanded the film be shot in a specific high-definition format she had a financial stake in, and she got 10% of the gross. She was a lady boss before the term even existed, all because a powerful man once made her feel powerless.

Jackson: And speaking of Cleopatra... that's where the biggest drama of her life began. The affair with Richard Burton. The book must go deep on this. Olivia: It goes so much deeper than the scandal. The affair, which the press dubbed 'Le Scandale,' was so huge it was condemned by the Vatican. A congresswoman even tried to get them barred from re-entering the U.S. for "undesirable conduct." It was the birth of modern, 24/7 celebrity obsession. Jackson: But their relationship was more than just a tabloid headline. What was really going on behind the scenes? Olivia: It was a storm. Richard Burton wrote in his diary about their connection, calling it "tolerable agony" and "agonizing love." They were both brilliant, both deeply insecure, and both heavy drinkers. The book describes how Burton had four distinct stages when he drank: first, the kind intellectual; second, the funny storyteller; third, the cruel bully; and fourth, passed out. Elizabeth had to navigate which version of him she was getting each night. Jackson: That sounds exhausting. It's like they were two chemicals that are stable apart but violently explosive together. Olivia: That's a perfect analogy. There's a story that captures this perfectly. Years after the scandal, they attend a party at the house of Debbie Reynolds—the woman whose marriage Elizabeth broke up to be with Eddie Fisher, who she then left for Richard Burton. Jackson: Hold on. They went to a party at Debbie Reynolds' house? The woman at the center of the first scandal? That's a level of complicated I can't even process. Olivia: It gets better. In the middle of the party, Liz and Dick get into a "yelling, screaming, top-of-their-lungs, mutual bitch-slapping fight." It's so bad that Debbie Reynolds has to escort them upstairs to her bedroom to cool off. The guests are horrified, thinking the night is ruined. Jackson: I'm picturing everyone just staring at their drinks, pretending not to listen. Olivia: Exactly. But then, twenty minutes later, the bedroom door opens, and Liz and Dick walk out, hand in hand, "happy and in love again," as if nothing happened. They just rejoined the party. That was them. They burned white-hot, with both rage and passion. Elizabeth wrote to him once, "Maybe we have loved each other too much." Jackson: Wow. It wasn't a normal relationship. It was a weather system. And you can't live in a hurricane forever. Olivia: You can't. They divorced, remarried, and divorced again. But for all the drama with Burton, her most defining relationship might have been with her own conscience. Especially in her third act.

Jackson: Her third act... you're talking about her AIDS activism. Which, at the time, was a truly radical thing for a star of her stature to take on. Olivia: It was career suicide, according to her advisors. This was the mid-1980s. AIDS was terrifying, mysterious, and profoundly stigmatized. It was called the "gay plague." President Reagan hadn't even said the word "AIDS" publicly. The world was silent. Jackson: And into that silence steps Elizabeth Taylor, a woman the press had spent decades branding as a selfish homewrecker. What was the catalyst? Olivia: The book pinpoints it to a moment of pure, unadulterated rage. Her friend and assistant, Tim Mendelson, told her that a friend of a friend had just died of AIDS and had no money for a burial. The business manager said they'd have to wait until Monday to sort out the funds. Jackson: Oh, I can see where this is going. Olivia: Elizabeth, who was in her bathroom in a nightgown, threw down her makeup brush and just exploded. She got the manager on the phone and screamed, "We will not fucking wait until Monday! No mother’s son is going to lay on a cold, hard slab for the weekend when I can do something to stop it." The money was wired in minutes. Jackson: That's incredible. It's that same fire she had with L.B. Mayer, but now aimed at injustice. Olivia: It was everything. She later said she got so angry at the silence from the government and the public that she thought to herself, "Bitch, do something yourself. Instead of sitting there getting angry. Do something." And she did. She co-founded amfAR, The American Foundation for AIDS Research. She personally called Nancy Reagan to pressure the President. She testified before Congress, shaming them into action. Jackson: She weaponized her fame. The very thing that had caused her so much pain, she turned it into a tool for good. Olivia: She used every bit of it. Her glamour, her notoriety, her connections. She knew that if Elizabeth Taylor showed up, the cameras would follow. And if the cameras were there, they would have to talk about AIDS. She raised over a hundred million dollars and, more importantly, she offered compassion when the world was offering fear.

Jackson: It's fascinating. The whole arc of her life makes sense in a new way. The defiance she learned as a kid fighting the studio, she eventually aimed at the White House. The all-consuming passion from her love life, she channeled into compassion for people who were dying. Olivia: That's the grit beneath the glamour. She wasn't just a collection of scandals and diamonds. She was a force. The book received some mixed reviews from critics who felt it was more of a loving tribute than a sharp critique, but I think that's because you can't tell her story without being in awe of her resilience. Jackson: You really can't. It completely reframes her. She wasn't just a movie star; she was a historical figure. Olivia: The actor Colin Farrell, who was a close friend in her later years, put it best. He said, "She was honest and raw and brutal and grotesque and feminine and delicate and aggressive and soft and tender and warm and acerbic. She was limitless." Jackson: Limitless. That feels right. It makes you rethink what you know about her. We'd love to hear your thoughts. What's the one thing about Elizabeth Taylor that surprised you most? Find us on our socials and let us know. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.