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Last update: 12/7/16

Reading extracts from the Richard Burton diaries, I was drawn to one particular comment that seemed to epitomise the unrealised potential of his great talent. In one of the more lucid moments in time for such a chronic alcoholic, he concedes that he and his wife share an attitude to acting, and to life: “Both Eliz[abeth] and I agreed solemnly that we never want to work again but simply loll our lives away in a sort of eternal Sunday.” And then he adds: “Quite right too. We are both bone-lazy.”

His fellow actor Dirk Bogarde, was not the recipient of universally positive reviews for every written work he published, be it his four volume autobiography, novels or literary reviews, yet he engineered a systematic and sustainable work schedule of typing each and every morning at his home in France and ultimately produced a literary body of work. Burton, born Richard Walter Jenkins, was incapable of adhering to such a disciplined ethic. It was partly the drink but it was also an eternal malaise; a form of wilful self destruction. Yet amidst the apathy, there was that imperious, darkly satanic, magisterial voice, honed to near perfection as a student by his mentor Phillip Burton.

Even the most devout admirers of the talismatic welsh actor would admit that his film oeuvre amounts to little more than a collection of mainly missed opportunities and unrealised concepts. Recalling his humble roots, Michael Caine would supplement his quality work on “Sleuth” by sauntering through certain ‘junk’ movies in order to upgrade his swimming pool. We could forgive the East End barrow boy making hay whilst the financial sun shone, but in the case of Burton, it felt more like an artistic betrayal. Referring back to his diary again, the key to his understanding of acting is in his remark that “my first love is not the stage, but a book with lovely words in it.” Perhaps this insight explains why his screen acting is so disappointing; when he’s being rhetorical then he’s without peer, but when he’s in character, he’s simply intoning words, narcissistically resonating them through his superb vocal instrument. This is oratory, not acting and the overall performance remains variable; his performance in “The Sandpiper” (1965), an obvious case in point. When he delivers his leaving speech to the school assembly, he conveys every nuance of his commanding stage presence, yet in the love scenes with Laura (Elizabeth Taylor) he falters, there’s less assuredness in his delivery and the combustible elements in his real life marriage are conspicuous by their absence. His character disapproves of Laura’s moral stance, yet permits his actions to compromise his professional standing and previously long term monogamous marriage. The relationship never rings true and with his paramour’s all too obvious bohemian existence, the affair should have amounted to little more than a dalliance on his part.

Understanding Burton’s aversion to protracted stage runs on Broadway and more substantial film roles goes to the heart of prosperity and the resultant loss of professional drive and ambition. There are exceptions but he was not amongst them. At the core of the problem was his attitude to acting for Burton’s dearest ambition was to be a scholar and to live for literature. His involvement with Taylor and his rapidly accumulating wealth stripped him of much of his personal drive. Gary Raymond, who starred alongside Burton in ‘Look Back in Anger,’ is quoted as saying; “He was mad about actors and acting, Richard. Great fun to be with, very outgoing. But then he was obsessed about the commercial side of the acting business, what could be made out of it. Richard told me once, ‘I sometimes get more pleasure out of a company report than a script’. He really said that”.

For centuries, external motivators were powerful and compelling; starvation and predation were constant threats; days and nights alternated between searing sunlight and freezing darkness. Our nomadic forebears were compelled to conserve energy, and expending minimal effort became de rigeur.

Today this position is greatly reversed with abundant sources of energy and few directly compelling motivators. Most of us are not parched or hunted by homicidal predators. Enter ego concerns, predinner martinis, window-shopping, and the mixed blessing of long-term planning.

Our ancestors encountered little delay between desire and action: Feeling thirsty meant looking for water, feeling hungry meant looking for food, and feeling amorous meant looking for mates. Our behaviour required little pre-amble.

As Kalman Glantz, a psychotherapist and the coauthor of Exiles From Eden, points out, laziness emerged only when planning for the future became possible. “Once there was some reason to continue working even though one’s immediate needs were satisfied, some people turned out to be more future-oriented than others. Some people continued to work when they weren’t hungry or cold or thirsty. And those people called others lazy.”

Reviewing the Burton diaries in the fall of 2012, the actor Peter O’Toole compared his drinking compatriot to James Tyrone of Eugene O’Neill’s “Long Days Journey Into Night,” positing that both might be amongst the great twentieth century tragedies.

They came from obscure poverty and from the so-called Celtic fringes of the United Kingdom: Tyrone from Ireland, Burton from Wales. Both emerged suddenly and forcefully as actors with the vocal command and physical presence that would allow them to define the great Shakespeare roles for a new generation. Both succumbed to the lures of enormous wealth and inordinate fame. Tyrone’s trap was the endless money to be made from repeating his turn as Edmond Dantès in The Count of Monte Cristo, Burton’s the flood of Hollywood dollars that sprang from the equally long-running melodrama of his partnership with Elizabeth Taylor. For both men, critics developed an almost identical narrative, a secular version of the Garden of Eden. They ate the apple of temptation and were expelled from the paradise of great art.

It’s an interesting summation yet Burton singularly failed to hold his profession in high esteem and much of his behaviour bordered on being boorish at best and self destructive at worst.

He retained a never ending interest in women throughout most of his adult life as the following link testifies.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1386878/Richard-Burton-slept-women-week-30-years.html#axzz2KFSXkGEV

Philip Burton maintained that Richard never liked this quality within himself. In the final analysis, the sexual act can be symbolic of something deep and meaningful, or as inconsequential as a one night stand. The opportunity for dalliances on set with co-stars carries some credence but the rest of the fable sounds like press fabrication.

His constant self gratification may well have hidden long held insecurities; his diary entry for 3 November 1966 hinting at the inner turmoil beneath the outwardly mobile swagger.

‘For some reason I worried a lot about E this morning, whether she loved me or not and how awful it would be to lose her etc. I worked myself up into a rare state of misery and was absurdly relieved when she telephoned from the studio. What’s the matter with me?’

They loved to drink, spend and travel. Money can’t buy happiness but most of us would rather be miserable in wealth. Over the course of their marriage, they would make tens of millions co-starring in films. In the modern world of inflated Hollywood salaries, it is comparatively easy to dismiss the kind of money that Taylor and Burton made in the 1960s and ’70s yet in ‘real terms’ the figures were impressive. The couple spent with the vulgar panache of Greek shipping magnates.

For Burton, though, there was little joy in it. “I have never quite got over the fact that I thought and I’m afraid I still do think, that ‘acting’ for a man—a really proper man—is sissified and faintly ridiculous,” Burton once wrote to Taylor. “I will do this film . . . out of sheer cupidity—desire for money. I will unquestionably do many more. But my heart, unlike yours, is not in it.”

His wife may initially, have been the larger earner but Burton was shrewd enough to avoid reliance on conventional investment routes in order to preserve their wealth. As early as 1963, the billionaire and philanthropic investor, Warren Buffet, wrote a letter to the investors in his hedge fund, The Buffett Partnership, Ltd., in which he laid out some of the fundamental tenets of his investment philosophy as it relates to taxation. As he saw it at the time, the only way to tax wealth was to increase inflation, thus making stored wealth worth less. The Burtons were in Britain at the time the Wilson Government devalued sterling and the prevailing mood of the country only increased his commitment to investing in diamonds.

The Central Selling Organization has built up diamond prices over the years as the best hedge against inflation. It has insured the value of the purchasers’ funds against all rises and falls of currencies around the world. It has the stamp of approval of no government, but has been increasingly accepted as international currency. Diamonds are recognized by numerous banks as stable collateral for loans. Unlike property, they have portability. An individual can carry a million dollars worth of diamonds in his pocket and sell them anywhere in the world. It is impossible to do this with any other investment type.

In addition, diamonds appear to be relatively immune to currency fluctuations. Investment in diamonds is essentially a sign of scepticism about the world’s political situation. Most of the individuals in the diamond business are convinced that the market can go in only one direction – and that is up.

Investing in gold, on the other hand, is risky. Its price can fluctuate widely, and at times, the price of gold can rise to a point where it offers little protection and a lot of price risk. Diamonds are totally controlled with their prices based on the world’s strongest currency or gold, whichever is most valuable. therefore, diamonds offer a built-in resistance to devaluation. As currencies lose their value. Diamonds automatically adjust upward. In the recession year of 1970, Richard Burton would have been aware that diamond prices levelled off but did not drop. Just as now, it was then axiomatic that diamonds never go down in price. In recessionary times, fewer sales may be made, but in general, the prices are not lowered. His diary entry for 11 October 1968 estimated valuations for investments in diamonds, emeralds, properties, paintings by Van Gogh, Picasso, Monet,Urillo etc, accounting for roughly one quarter of their total worth by the end of 1969 i.e. $21.2m.

Some examples of Burton’s favourite purchases for his then wife Elizabeth Taylor can be viewed via the following link -

http://www.beadinggem.com/2011/03/elizabeth-taylor-her-lifelong-love.html

Throughout the years, his drinking and nicotine intake was legendary. A little over four years before he died he appeared on the top rated Dick Cavett US tv show. Asked if he considered himself an alcoholic, Burton replied: “I’m not quite sure I am one, but if not, I’m very near. I certainly can’t say I’ve beaten it”.
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“It’s a dreadful disease and anyone with it has my deepest sympathies. I only hope they have a wife like mine. Without her enormous assistance I might very easily be dead.”

However, the mood took a decidedly sombre tone when Cavett asked Burton if he could ever tell when he’d had enough.

“No-one really knows which drink it is that’ll take them over the edge from a hearty, laughing social drinker to a morose, hung-over wretched creature who creaks and sweats through nightmares where it’s always November, always raining and always three in the morning,” he sighed.

“There’s nowhere to go, nothing to do but reach out for a cigarette and think about all the horrible things you’ve done and the shame you’ve brought to other people.”

Then, Burton turned to toast the audience with his glass.

“This is Coca-Cola, by the way,” he smiled. “Unless Dick’s laced it with something.”

The events of his last weekend are recalled in the following link.

http://www.people.com/people/archive/article/0,,20088474,00.html

I recently purchased Tom Rubython’s biography “And God created Burton” for the knockdown price of £3.50 – in perfect condition mind you, even though my wife felt I’d been extravagant by my standards! Still, when I showed her the size of the book she understood. It’s a monolithic tome, over 800 pages, requiring some able support from a chair cushion whilst reading unless of course you’re ‘in training’. The book’s inside flap offers a taster of what is to come, a near exhausting journey for even a venerable power reader such as myself:

‘A sweeping saga spanning 1898 to 1984 stretching from the mining fields of South Wales to the film sets of Hollywood and from the playhouses of Cardiff to the grand theatres of Broadway – this new and far reaching biography rakes over the coals of the life of Britain’s greatest ever actor, Richard Burton. And how one extraordinary man had three fathers, three mothers, seven brothers, six sisters and four wives, and how he loved them all. And how that man earned US$75 million from the start of his career in 1951 to when he died in 1984; the equivalent of US$1.5 billion in today’s money, making him the highest-paid actor in Hollywood history. From the Back Cover And God Created Burton is the first complete biography of the greatest Welshman ever to have lived. The man conquered Hollywood like no other British actor, before or since. His achievements were considered all the greater as they were accomplished in the era of such great British actors as Laurence Olivier and John Gielgud as well as great American stars such as Humphrey Bogart, Clark Gable and Cary Grant. Burton’s achievement was even more pronounced as his prowess uniquely spanned theatre, film and television unlike any other actor before him. In the end, he became a genuine legend in his own lifetime and in the mid-sixties, for one year, he stood at the very pinnacle of Hollywood as the world’s most bankable actor. He also loved and lost some the most beautiful and talented actresses of the era, including Elizabeth Taylor, Claire Bloom and Susan Strasberg. But he could have achieved even more if it had not been for his addiction to alcohol, a fate inherited from his father and which stayed with him right to the end of his days, eventually killing him and tarnishing an otherwise extraordinary career’.

If there is a single defining moment that plunges a heavy drinker into the very depths of alcoholism, then for Burton, that moment involved one of his brothers, a simmering fued over his public treatment of first wife Cybil and the threat of a manslaughter charge.

http://www.thisissouthwales.co.uk/brothers-love-went-Burton/story-14179869-detail/story.html#axzz2Q3xBrErs

According to biographer, Tom Rubython, Burton’s brother Ivor, was the most moral, upright and honest man Richard knew and the breakup of his first marriage and the scandal of his affair with Elizabeth Taylor led to a two year estrangement between the siblings.

The brothers were eventually reconciled and in 1968 were holidaying together. After a heavy night of drinking together, Ivor slipped and fell against a windowsill at Richard’s house in Celigny, Switzerland, breaking his neck.

The injury left him permanently paralysed from the neck down and confined him to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. He died on 19th March 1972 and singularly failed to relay his version of events to family members throughout his remaining days. For Richard, who idolised his brother and treated him as a father figure, the accident was more than he could bear.

Unfortunately, various versions of what happened would not have held up under close scrutiny from the Swiss police yet what remains certain is that Burton disappeared for ten days, only returning once he knew Ivor would survive. Rubython’s theory that a fight had taken place between the brothers is highly plausible. It would be just one of a series of terrible incidences that rendered 1968 a year to forget for the Burtons. Perhaps looking back over the preceding six years, he had simply joined the big league only to find himself floundering out of his depth.

Burton had been married to first wife Sybil, when he met Elizabeth Taylor. Accustomed as he was to the pursuit of every leading lady he worked with, ‘the world’s most beautiful woman’ was a challenge too far. When their affair became public knowledge, his wife sought attention/attempted suicide depending on whose interpretation you believe, and when he returned to his family life Taylor acted likewise, an episode glossed over by the studio as “food poisoning.” After nine months back in his marriage, (Burton was content to insult everyone’s intelligence by stating categorically that he had not been intimate with Taylor throughout this period – this being a woman who hadn’t been without a man since she was seventeen), the couple were reunited, this time seemingly for good. Taylor had “the most fabulous pair of tits,” Burton said, in mitigation, and one can only hope this comment was indicative of his welsh humour, for surely such an erudite, loquacious and intelligent man would not have destroyed his family unit for a pair of mammary glands?

Condemned by the Vatican for “erotic vagrancy,” the Burton and Taylor alliance was vulgar and messy, replete with yachts, jewels and drunken fights.

“I just adored fighting with Richard,” said Taylor._ “I need a strong man.”_ Her sparring partner found life more wearisome. “She had all these bloody rings on. It was like being hit with a knuckle-duster.”

Burton was also fed up with Taylor’s dogs, her parrot, and the way that pain from piles would make her scream and cry in her sleep. They were divorced, and got married again in Botswana “by an African District Commissioner from the Tswana Tribe.” Then they divorced again, only this time around, she could barely relieve him of much, having stripped him of virtually his entire assets first time around. The yacht, the house, the jewellery, his extensive range of vintage paintings – she’d had it all, except his non existent Oscar statuette.

The Oscar always eluded Burton and as the 60’s drew to a close, the old movie moguls were being replaced by young businessmen. Conglomerates were taking over the studios, forcing out the streetwise studio chiefs who had made decisions by their gut instincts, thus heralding the demise of expensive epics. It was the low-budget movies by new kids on the block that were making money: ‘Bonnie And Clyde’, ‘The Graduate’, ‘Midnight Cowboy’ and ‘Easy Rider.’

Nevertheless, in 1970, there would be one last major assault on the industry’s major prize. Nominated in the best actor category for his most recent role, as Henry VIII in ‘Anne Of The Thousand Days’, Taylor summoned herincomparable star power in an attempt to dazzle the statuette into Richard’s hands, where it belonged.

On April 3, 1970, the Burtons returned to Los Angeles – Frank Sinatra flying them in from Puerto Vallarta in his Gulfstream jet. They checked into their favourite bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel but Tinseltown had changed for ever.

On Oscar night itself, the newly sober Richard looked sleek in his dinner jacket and Elizabeth was stunning in a deep blue-violet chiffon Edith Head gown with a plunging neckline and a ruffled, slit skirt. The ceremony dragged on in its usual way, saving Best Actor for the next-to-last announcement.Burton slouched in his seat, studying a piece of paper, silently moving his lips as he read. Those seated around him thought that perhaps he was memorising his acceptance speech.

Finally, John Wayne’s name was called. The cowboy actor had won his first Oscar after 42 years in the movie business, in effect a lifetime achievement award, thus consigning Burton to another empty handed evening. To make the evening more excruciating for the Burtons, Elizabeth had to follow Richard’s defeat by appearing on stage to present the award for Best Picture.

You could see the disappointment in her face, her genuine heartache when she came out, to great applause, to present the award to ‘Midnight Cowboy,’ just the kind of anti-heroic movie that represented how much Hollywood had changed since she and Richard had first dazzled the world together in ‘Cleopatra.’ Both heavy drinkers; Elizabeth drank to free her emotions, whilst Richard drank to numb his.

Tellingly, this last rejection by the Academy simply served to inflame his commercial instincts; risky, artistic ventures being eschewed in favour of movies that made money. That summer, he took on a macho war epic, ‘Raid On Rommel,’ a mediocre entry in his CV and a clear indicator of the future direction his career would take. There was worse to come with the August ’74 UK location filming for a television remake of Noel Coward’s “Brief Encounter.” Re-inventing Sophia Loren as a bored suburban housewife was a leap too far, and Burton appeared overcome by the incredulity of it all, his eyes constantly averted, perhaps seeking solace in a nearby bottle. He’d have needed a few stiff ones after the critical reviews.

In 2013, the ‘Posh and Becks’ of their day, (albeit infinitely more talented), are largely unknown by today’s younger generation, a chilling reminder of how transitory fame really is. In 2013, actress Kate Burton said, “I grew up with one of the most famous fathers in the world in the 1960s and ’70s. He passed away in 1984, and as time went on, people didn’t know him. That blew me away.”

Whatever the conflicting opinions about the Burtons, the irrefutable fact remains that five years before his death, the actor purchased a burial plot in the Protestant church at Celiney, Switzerland. He had been compelled to do so in order to maintain his ‘domicile of choice,’ thereby avoiding UK estate duty on his worldwide assets. More tellingly, he also purchased two adjoining plots, presumably to control who would be buried alongside him.

When Elizabeth Taylor eventually passed away in 2011, she was laid to rest at the Forest Lawn Memorial Park cemetery in Los Angeles. According to the following link, Burton’s relatives had remained agreeable to her being buried in the Welsh family grave, had she expressed such a desire in her will.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-wales-12845258

Biographer Tom Rubython asserts that the actor had little desire to be reunited with Taylor in the afterlife, and that, whatever tempestuous love he had felt for her, he had been equally seduced by his rising stock in the film business as a result of their initial affair. Burton’s burial arrangements suggest he was reconciled to a more peaceful existence in the next world, and that could not be achieved with Taylor at his side. The 20th century’s greatest romance? – Let’s get a grip on reality.