People

By Guy D. Garcia

Her movies have ranged from the eminent to the eminently forgettable, her singular silhouette has budded, bloomed, overripened, then been gloriously pruned. In the past few years, after a much publicized battle with drugs and overweight, Elizabeth Taylor has re-emerged in the public eye to champion humanitarian causes, especially AIDS research. (She became an energetic supporter after the death of her friend Rock Hudson, and late last week appeared at a Senate subcommittee hearing urging her former husband John Warner and other Senators to authorize $80 million in Government funds.) Once shy in public, "the world's most beautiful woman" finally seems to be enjoying her undimmed status as a living screen legend. At the start of last week the Film Society of Lincoln Center honored that legend with its lifetime achievement award. Resplendently slim in a petaled silk organza gown by Arnold Scaasi, Taylor, 54, arrived (45 minutes late, typically) to take her seat in a box next to her mother Sara Taylor, 90, and listen to testimonials by the likes of Roddy McDowell, Jane Powell, Mike Nichols and Lillian Gish. "She is herself an occasion," exclaimed longtime Friend McDowell, "a bona fide movie star, a national treasure." To prove that point, 70 minutes of highlights from 23 of her films were shown, starting with The White Cliffs of Dover (made when she was twelve), finishing with Between Friends (made three years ago). Afterward the guest of honor said, "I hate to watch myself on the screen, so I've been dying." But it was the adoring Manhattan audience of 2,700 that was knocked dead.