You want to believe in the naivety of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, you really do. Not least of all for Liz Taylor’s seductively poignant turn, maybe even for its “subtlety.” But what if, perhaps, Tennessee Williams is a bit of an overrated turd and Elia Kazan is all style and no substance, or at least, the substance he chooses is mere cannon fodder for empty intellectualized conjecture?

That is precisely what they are because this thing is filled with platitude upon platitude upon pandering upon the worst kind of schmaltz you could hope to find from a film that could have been something better. See movies by Christopher Nolan like Inception for modern examples of the same.