TMS Muse of the Week: Judy Garland

(Michael Ochs Archives)

Oh, Judy. Judy, Judy, Judy. If there’s one famous person more misrepresented publicly than Marilyn Monroe, it’s triple threat Judy Garland. The Little Girl with the Big Voice, Joots, Miss Showbusiness, Baby Gumm [referring to her birth name Frances Ethel Gumm]. And unlike Marilyn, even if you’re not a fan of the actress-singer-dancer, you’re most likely familiar with at least one of her movies and two of her songs. MGM’s most valuable teen player in the 1930s was the lead star in the studio’s most beloved film, Victor Fleming’s The Wizard of Oz (1939). Although Judy didn’t fit L. Frank Baum’s original description of Dorothy Gale in his early 20th century Oz books, it’s safe to say everyone generally associates Dorothy with Judy’s celluloid interpretation. 1939 was the superstar’s breakthrough year between Oz and Busby Berkeley’s Babes in Arms, earning Judy the now defunct Juvenile Oscar for best acting by a performer under 18. By the 1940s, she was a top priority for MGM with even more hit musicals like Berkeley’s Strike Up the Band (1940), Robert Z. Leonard’s Ziegfeld Girl (1941), Berkeley’s For Me and My Gal (1942) and Norman Taurog’s Presenting Lily Mars (1943). One of her most frequent leading men was peer and friend Mickey Rooney, whom she occasionally co-starred opposite in his Andy Hardy movies throughout 1938-1941.

Once Judy was near 21, she was beyond ready to completely abandon teenage characters, feeling typecast and restricted by the cutesy, girl-next-door persona she had become associated with since playing Dorothy. The one, final exception she made was for her second most famous family musical, Vincente Minnelli’s Meet Me in St. Louis (1944). The first of five films Judy made with director and future second husband Vincente, Meet Me in St. Louis is just as charming and wonderful as The Wizard of Oz, but without the fantasy heavy setting. The most famous sequence in St. Louis is Judy singing to her on-screen sister Margaret O’Brien the now classic holiday ballad ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,’ which was written for the musical by Hugh Martin & Ralph Blane. If ‘Over the Rainbow’ is Judy’s signature tune, then ‘Merry Little Christmas’ is her second trademark number. Many artists have put their own spin on the seasonal composition, but no one has topped the emotion and effort Judy put into the OST recording. And for the record, I always sing the original depressing third verse and not the watered-down re-written verse popularized by Frank Sinatra.

In retrospect, Meet Me in St. Louis might possibly be Judy’s happiest filming experience, especially compared to Oz’s chaotic shooting history. The star later claimed playing St. Louis’ Esther Smith was the prettiest she ever felt; and things started on a high note for Judy & Vincente professionally and romantically, including their equally successful and talented daughter Liza born in 1946. But by 1951 their marriage was challenged by Vincente’s main preference for men and Judy’s personal struggles with being overmedicated and mistreated by her superiors. Never pretty enough, skinny enough or sexy enough for MGM, Judy was let go from the biggest studio in Hollywood in 1950; cited for reasons of unprofessionalism despite being popular with fans and continuing to star in well-received movies, such as George Sidney’s The Harvey Girls (1946) and Charles Walters’ Easter Parade (1948). The rest of Judy’s career and personal life would have sporadic ups and downs, but she managed more triumphs. George Cukor’s version of A Star is Born (1954) was the comeback of a lifetime for Judy, completing the trifecta of her top essential movie musicals, giving her yet another iconic ballad in ‘The Man That Got Away,’ and her first and only Academy Award nomination for Best Actress. The epic romantic musical was also produced by Judy’s third husband, Sid Luft, and the father of two more children, Lorna [b. 1952] and Joey [b. 1955]. Judy’s second Oscar nomination was for Best Supporting Actress seven years later with Stanley Kramer’s ensemble courtroom drama Judgment at Nuremberg (1961). For the next six years, Judy would focus on popular, but short-lived TV and stage gigs, including the CBS variety program “The Judy Garland Show” (1963-64), and the live LPs ‘Judy at Carnegie Hall’ (1961) and ‘Judy & Liza Live at the London Palladium’ (1965); until prematurely passing from an accidental barbiturates overdose in 1969 at age 47.

(Bettmann)

What happened to Judy is very sad and the definition of a cautionary tale. Some of the stories are true, some have been embellished over time by tabloids. MGM shouldn’t have insisted Judy take uppers and downers to keep her energy ready for productions constantly. She wasn’t a bombshell like her peers Lana Turner or Lucille Bremer; but had the studio been practical, they would have realized the custom made corset they insisted Judy wear during film shoots was unnecessary because her awkward, chubby phase as a teen was most likely temporary. Judy had a nice little figure and pretty face that complimented her charisma, gifted vocals, great comedic timing and dramatic range. I have to agree with Liza that Judy would not want people to primarily remember her as a tragic figure. Yes, she would go through bouts of depression and need psychiatry to counter all the pills she was taking, but what about her as a person? What about her apparently natural sense of humor or caring instincts? Liza and Lorna disagree a lot on their mother’s memory, but both agree that she loved her children and they love her back. She was a supportive friend and co-star, and put her all into a performance, no matter how late she was to set.

Judy was always openly proud of the universal legacies of The Wizard of Oz and Meet Me in St. Louis, and happy she was part of many children’s childhoods with annual viewings of the classics. I think rather than use her as a blueprint of what’s wrong with celebrity, let’s celebrate her best qualities.