First, I agree with Tony Bennett (and so many others) that Judy Garland was THE entertainer and singer of the 20th Century. "No one could touch her," he said. But he was talking about her stage concerts. Having seen her live, I think Bennett is probably right. Electrifying (at least on her good nights).
Second, I own this film but seldom watch it. Why? It's simple, really. I find it tedious, talky and full of clichés. Judy's song performances (mostly) are wonderful. Yes, "The Man That Got Away" is cinematic history. "Melancholy Baby" is the best arrangement of that song I've ever heard, but it's truncated to fit in with all the other snippets of the infamous "Born in a Trunk" sequence, as is the rousing "Swanee." "It's a New Day" is just mediocre treacle, musically and lyrically, and was never heard again. "Somewhere, There's a Someone" is interminable showing-off that, one supposes, is supposed to showcase Garland's comedic versatility but instead reeks of "look-at-me-aren't-I-brilliant?" egotism. Plus it displays Garland at her least attractive. The song and her "improvisations" with banana leaves, throw pillows and the bearskin rug are silly, rather than impressive. It feels uncomfortably forced and contributes nothing, either musically or emotionally, to the story. It's, for me, an utter waste of her talent and the film's time.
Garland could be a terrific actor. Yet in scene after overlong scene, she's given hackneyed lines.
Others have mentioned, for instance, the scene in the car when James Mason drives her home to her apartment, where she recounts her struggles to get where she is. Sure, Judy acts up a storm.
Or when she tells Tommy Noonan she's leaving the band because she has a screen test. "Then why do I feel this way?" she bleats breathlessly about her newfound feelings for alcoholic Norman Maine, in yet another clichéd scene.
Or her almost unwatchable overacting with Oliver Niles (Charles Bickford) in her dressing room when she confesses her helplessness to deal with her husband's alcoholism. Director George Cukor was reportedly so impressed with her playing in this scene that he had her do it several times, and each time she supposedly brought something new and different to it. When he complimented her, she pointedly replied, "Oh, you should come by my house any afternoon. I do that every day. But I only do it ONCE at home." (See Gerald Clarke's remarkable biography of her, "Get Happy.") All the actors are excellent, really, including Judy when she wasn't allowed to be overindulgent. But the script keeps lapsing into bathetic pathos, particularly after Norman Maine is let go by the studio.
James Mason is remarkable. He's so convincing as a self-loathing, mean-spirited egotistical drunk in his initial scenes that it's impossible to see what ANYBODY sees in him, much less the supposedly innocent and trusting Esther Blodgett.
That plot point makes her look like an idiot, as a character. Even in those days, NOBODY would abandon a perfectly decent and relatively secure career as an up-and-coming band singer for a "screen test" promised by what everybody else recognizes as an abusive alcoholic has-been actor. "What was she THINKING?" you keep asking, as everything works out exactly as you knew it would.
By the time poor Norman wades into the Pacific to drown himself while Esther / Vicki sings (a capella) the excruciating "It's a New Day" out the kitchen window in Malibu, you almost wish you could join him, having given three hours of your life to a string of cheap sentimentality and painfully obvious (and tiresome) emotional manipulation.
But wait! There's more! Tommy Noonan gets his last (terrifically acted but soap-opera dialogued) scene where he berates Judy to convince her to fulfill her obligation to appear onstage at some awards ceremony that night.
She ultimately does, of course. And gets to deliver the film's famous supposedly heart-tugging final line, "This is Mrs. Norman Maine." Good thing this was a musical. (The only non-musical Garland ever made was "The Clock.") Because, without the songs, "A Star is Born" is just an overproduced, overacted (by Judy) B-movie soap opera that would have long ago faded into oblivion.
Second, I own this film but seldom watch it. Why? It's simple, really. I find it tedious, talky and full of clichés. Judy's song performances (mostly) are wonderful. Yes, "The Man That Got Away" is cinematic history. "Melancholy Baby" is the best arrangement of that song I've ever heard, but it's truncated to fit in with all the other snippets of the infamous "Born in a Trunk" sequence, as is the rousing "Swanee." "It's a New Day" is just mediocre treacle, musically and lyrically, and was never heard again. "Somewhere, There's a Someone" is interminable showing-off that, one supposes, is supposed to showcase Garland's comedic versatility but instead reeks of "look-at-me-aren't-I-brilliant?" egotism. Plus it displays Garland at her least attractive. The song and her "improvisations" with banana leaves, throw pillows and the bearskin rug are silly, rather than impressive. It feels uncomfortably forced and contributes nothing, either musically or emotionally, to the story. It's, for me, an utter waste of her talent and the film's time.
Garland could be a terrific actor. Yet in scene after overlong scene, she's given hackneyed lines.
Others have mentioned, for instance, the scene in the car when James Mason drives her home to her apartment, where she recounts her struggles to get where she is. Sure, Judy acts up a storm.
Or when she tells Tommy Noonan she's leaving the band because she has a screen test. "Then why do I feel this way?" she bleats breathlessly about her newfound feelings for alcoholic Norman Maine, in yet another clichéd scene.
Or her almost unwatchable overacting with Oliver Niles (Charles Bickford) in her dressing room when she confesses her helplessness to deal with her husband's alcoholism. Director George Cukor was reportedly so impressed with her playing in this scene that he had her do it several times, and each time she supposedly brought something new and different to it. When he complimented her, she pointedly replied, "Oh, you should come by my house any afternoon. I do that every day. But I only do it ONCE at home." (See Gerald Clarke's remarkable biography of her, "Get Happy.") All the actors are excellent, really, including Judy when she wasn't allowed to be overindulgent. But the script keeps lapsing into bathetic pathos, particularly after Norman Maine is let go by the studio.
James Mason is remarkable. He's so convincing as a self-loathing, mean-spirited egotistical drunk in his initial scenes that it's impossible to see what ANYBODY sees in him, much less the supposedly innocent and trusting Esther Blodgett.
That plot point makes her look like an idiot, as a character. Even in those days, NOBODY would abandon a perfectly decent and relatively secure career as an up-and-coming band singer for a "screen test" promised by what everybody else recognizes as an abusive alcoholic has-been actor. "What was she THINKING?" you keep asking, as everything works out exactly as you knew it would.
By the time poor Norman wades into the Pacific to drown himself while Esther / Vicki sings (a capella) the excruciating "It's a New Day" out the kitchen window in Malibu, you almost wish you could join him, having given three hours of your life to a string of cheap sentimentality and painfully obvious (and tiresome) emotional manipulation.
But wait! There's more! Tommy Noonan gets his last (terrifically acted but soap-opera dialogued) scene where he berates Judy to convince her to fulfill her obligation to appear onstage at some awards ceremony that night.
She ultimately does, of course. And gets to deliver the film's famous supposedly heart-tugging final line, "This is Mrs. Norman Maine." Good thing this was a musical. (The only non-musical Garland ever made was "The Clock.") Because, without the songs, "A Star is Born" is just an overproduced, overacted (by Judy) B-movie soap opera that would have long ago faded into oblivion.