It feels like early on in our lives, every one of us is convinced to cast aside a piece of ourselves. Whether that something is as big as a sexual preference or as seemingly insignificant as a favorite color. Here's my journey to taking those pieces back.
Liza Minnelli is a revelation in her guest spot on the third episode of The Judy Garland Show. She's still forming as an artist and performer, still a little raw, and her presence is so..."unaffected" as one critic wrote, that I found myself wanting to be her best friend. She's earnest, bouncy, boisterous, and so eager to please that you can't help but root for her. She dredges up a that same desire to want to protect her that people have for Judy. When you watch her, get a sense that there's something very special in her, something still shaping itself, that she courageously and unselfishly (if somewhat unwisely) lets loose for all to see. I say "unwisely" because anyone up onstage in front of that many people, with so little "armor" is going to be in for some tough surprises down the road. It makes you want to fight for her and protect her so she can keep giving of this magic that she seems born to give.
And take a close look at Liza's styling. I have always thought that Rachel Berry's look in early episodes of Glee was reminiscent of Liza's. Anybody else? Am I just seeing what I want to see, kind of like when you buy a new Jeep Cherokee and suddenly it seems like everyone else has a Jeep Cherokee simply because you are attuned to seeing Jeep Cherokees???
One thing I AM certain of is that the number at the end of the episode, in which Liza and Judy dress up as hobos (Judy loved that hobo thing) inspired another duet on a certain show that any other kid of my age has embedded in his DNA.
First there was "Judy and Liza"...
Then there was "Flo and Mo", also known as "Carol and Marcia"
This episode also had another great solo by Judy, in fact there are two of them duking it out for top honors here. There was a powerful rendition of "Come Rain Or Come Shine", as only Judy can do it, and yet she would perform the song again in a later episode and that performance is just a little better than this one in my opinion so I'm going to save it for later. No, the performance I love, and that is practically perfect is Judy' rendition of "As Long As He Needs Me". Lionel Bart has been quoted many times as saying that Judy's voice was his inspiration for the score of Oliver, and so it's fitting that Judy gives the definitive performance. If only it weren't for that damn chorus towards the end and that soprano who is really going for broke. Ah well. It was the early sixties after all.
Another thing that amazes me is how natural both Judy and Liza make this canned dialogue seem when they are together. Sure there are moments when they are improvising, but then some of the dialogue is clearly scripted, and coming from anyone else would seem hokey as hell, but from these two, it seems so organic that it work in spite of itself.
Finally, a bit of ridiculousness. No sixties variety show is complete without a little bit of bizarrity. In this case it is provided by The Brothers Castro. Or, I should say it is provided by the Garland Show creative who take a perfectly charming, if somewhat "rough" act and turn it into this weird kind of Hollywood version of "Ole Mexico" that you can't help but be somewhat horrified and mesmerized by. And, if you haven't noticed by now, wherever there's some bizarre shit going down, the "Judy Garland Dancers" are sure to be close at hand. What the fuck is up with this mini-skirt poncho thing?
When I was in my teens I found a used copy of The Other Side of the Rainbow: With Judy Garland on the Dawn Patrol by Mel Torme. Yes, that guy...the jazz singer. You see, way back when The Judy Garland Show was in pre-production, the producer, George Schlatter, lured him onto the program to be musical director and arranger and to borrow a phrase from an old song, Torme "didn't wanna do it. He didn't wanna dooooo it."
Help select music for another performer? Coach her? Conduct her off-camera for those moments when she can't quite hear the orchestra? To stabd in the wings and give support? To a WOMAN? Mel Torme was a lot of things, one of those being a tremendously talented crooner. He was also a bit of a chauvinist, and an egotist supreme (I ordered one of these at Taco Bell a couple nights ago, and it was pretty tasty) who knew? He understandably wanted to work on his own career, not someone else's, and he only relented when he heard he would get two on-screen guest spots in the first thirteen episodes (incidentally he was always bickering about these spots, how much time he got, was cranky when he had to share the guest spot with others, blah blah blah) with more to come later. Undoubtedly he was a bit bitter at having to play second fiddle to another singer, and his tell-all memoir about his experience on the show, published soon after Judy's death, seems like a way for him to have the last word. In the book he skewered Garland, placed the show's demise largely on her shoulders, and alternately bitches about her and his estranged wife, whom he condescendingly nicknames "Snow White".
Now I'm not trying to say that he was COMPLETELY inaccurate (although much of his story was, and many of the points he makes would later be refuted as "untruths" by other crew members). After all, Garland was a tempestuous woman. Nervous, lonely, insecure. The reference to the "dawn patrol" in the book's title references the fact that some members of the production team would receive late night calls from Garland who was keyed up after a night's work and needed companionship. No, I'm not saying Garland was flawless. I'm just saying the book has an agenda, and it served as a way for Torme to be the star of the show's story in a way that he hadn't been in life. Unfortunately, after a backlash from the Hollywood community against Torme, the book became the only source for info on the shows troubles, and it's story went largely unchecked until the late eighties when Coyne Steven Sanders wrote the book that is now considered the definitive version of the making of the television show: Rainbow's End.
It's extremely readable, balanced, and doesn't overlook Garland's flaws. It does however, put her occasional outburst into context with the craziness that was around her, the power grabs, the firings, the revamping...it's all in there. Sanders is quoted as saying he was looking to expose the truth, no matter how ugly, and he was pleasantly surprised to finish his research and interviews with a deeper respect for Garland's work ethic, kindness, and talent (this did not happen when he dug into the life of Lucille Ball for a similar project, FYI). Anytime I have a question about the facts of the making of the Garland series, it is the first place I go for answers.
Well, all this is taking the long way to tell you that episode 2 of the Garland show featured Count Basie, and Mel Torme as guests, and the show gets off to a pretty dreamy start. Judy enters a quiet set which is made to resemble a rehearsal hall in which the musicians are warming up...
It's a moment that I love because it allows Judy to swing it a little in a very "cool" arrangement. Judy was never what you could call a jazz singer (although like everyone else who has an eye on the neighbor's backyard, she wanted to have her try at it) but it is great when she's allowed to escape her sentimental show biz numbers for something a little sultrier.
The problems with the show are not with Judy, or Basie, but with everything else. As much as I've grown to have a fond distaste for Mel Torme, I have to say, his vocal stylings are impeccable and a treat to listen to. Watching him sing is another thing altogether. He's like the nerd in school who hung around with the cool kids (you know "Sammy, Frankie, Dean") and was determined to be just like them. He aped their moves in the mirror, dressed like them, convinced himself he WAS them, but nobody on the playground ever really bought it. That's Mr. Torme. He's so smarmy and schmoozy, and that swagger of his is just repellent.
Also on the list of things that bring down this episode is Jerry Van Dyke, or at least the material he's working with. He was brought on to the show as Judy's comedic second banana, but they never quite figured out what to do with him. Personally, I've always thought critics were too hard on him as his presence is very sweet natured, naïve and bumbling and his bombastic energy is a nice contrast to Garland's. And yes, the bits are trite, but he didn't write them, nor was he happy with them. In fact, much as he loved working with Garland, he was very unhappy with his role in the show, especially when the writers came up with the idea of his poking fun at Judy to de-glamorize her and make her more approachable to the audience.
Other things I don't love in this episode? Well there's this pretty unfortunate musical number in which folk singer Judy Henske teams up with Mel Torme and Jerry Van Dyke to sing "Walk Right In". The harmonies are way off and Henske hits some notes that cause pretty hysterical reactions from Jerry. Another thing I'm not a huge fan of in the show?
This hat...
While we're at it, I didn't love the dance in which these hats were featured either. It's such a confusing melee. Garland gets lost in it, seems unsure of herself through much of the routine, and they style seems ill fitted to her.
A moment that definitely DOES work is when Judy is singing in the Trunk spot at the end of the show and flubs a line during the song, turning it into a delightful win. The minds behind the scenes had gotten the idea to start taping dress rehearsals of the show so they would have two versions of numbers to choose from, and then they could slip the better version in. Well, in this case they chose to use the dress rehearsal, and I can't blame them. She's so animated and energetic, like a mischievous little sequined elf who, incidentally, can sing the shit out of a song.
One final note. Does anyone else notice that Judy seems to be wearing the same outfit through the entire show? Sure she changes from skirt to pants, but everything else seems exactly the same. Am I the only one bothered by this? WTF Aghayan?
This episode was the first one taped for the series, and I have to say it's pretty wonderful. The look is dramatic, glamorous, glossy and glitzy (all those "g" words I love)...Judy looks and sounds wonderful and aside from some clunky comedic bits which were typical of sixties tv variety shows, it's a perfect way to illustrate what a viewer could look forward to in the season ahead. If you care to watch along with me and can get ahold of a DVD of the show, the Pioneer set has loads of outtakes and deleted numbers removed and replaced due to the later change in the ordering of the episode. ALSO, it's important to note that this show was rehearsed and taped like a theatrical production. It was finished taping in less than 90 minutes, and Judy required no second takes on any of it. It's a very different way of doing things from the over-produced, over "tweaked" and stilted shows of the same variety that are made today.
The show begins with Judy's conductor and right hand man Mort Lindsey leading an overture of her numbers that would build to her entrance, much as had been done in her concerts. The overture of a singer's hits is pretty standard fare today, and one that Judy pioneered. In fact, it's pretty amazing how many things we think of as standard concert tropes were originated or made famous first by Garland. When Judy finally arrives she makes an incredible entrance and looks stunning in this ultra -sophisticated pantsuit gown combo that was very in fashion in the late-fifties early sixties. She looks so fresh, comfortable, in control... it only makes me wish the show had been taped in color, because Judy's color palette really made up so much of her "look" and enhanced her beauty. This licorice black hair, deep red lips and porcelain skin, that rich sophisticated "drawl" of a speaking voice. She sings "I Feel A Song Coming On" (one of the few pre-recorded numbers of the series) with special lyrics introducing Mickey Rooney
Then we unfortunately fade out and fade in to...Mickey Rooney. I've always had rather ambiguous feelings about Mickey Rooney. While I loved him in the early Andy Hardy films, in his musicals with Judy like Babes on Broadway and Girl Crazy, let's just say I tried to keep my eyes focused on her side of the screen. He's always been a bit too forceful, too hammy for my taste. "He really insists upon himself" as my friend Meg would say. His philosophy of performance seemed to be "why say anything when you can shout it, while doing a handstand, balancing plates on your feet, and speaking in a bad Gable imitation. He's the Jim Carrey/Martin Short of his day, and it ain't my cup o tea.
For his solo spot on the show he is seated on a large staircase as he sings this falsely "sincere" medley of songs glorifying the American girl, and having the much married Rooney singing that when he's not near the girl he loves he loves the girl he's with? It has a humor that I'm not quite sure was intended. Thank god he finally drops the winsome pose, but he segues into a schmaltzy bit in which he impersonates Jimmy Durante and Maurice Chevalier. At the end of the number, as he sings "Thank Heaven For Little Girls" he's flanked by two little girls which would seem really creepy if you didn't know they were his daughters. For the record, this is exactly the kind of corny number I would usually fast-forward through, but it's worth watching once, even if it's only to see Mickey's bizarre combed forward hair-do.
From that number we move to one of my favorite from the series. Ever. The stairs that Mickey had been singing on rotate on this wonderful turn-table, doing it's job long before "Les Miz" became synonymous with the word in a theatrical context, and Judy strolls out from the darkness and just lays out the most brilliant, structured performance of a real "sock-o" number that shows what a master she is at building a song. She's the Queen of audience mind control. And you'll notice how carefully she selects which moments to play to the camera directly, when she plays to the studio audience, and when she seems to be singing for herself. To paraphrase, Judy expert John Fricke, she has a way of making the relatively cold mediums of television and film seem so warm. She communicates across forty years as if it's a cinch. Truly stunning.
Next Judy and Mickey have a really sweet interaction where they reminisce over old times and look back at old photos of themselves back when they were "in pictures" together. While the impact is less momentous and thrilling than it would have had back then (the much publicized reunion of a beloved team that hadn't been seen together on-screen in fifteen years, in a time before you could push a button and bring up virtually any image or film clip) the dialogue is off the cuff, and sincere, and their affection for each other is blatantly obvious. Mickey is so gentle and considerate to Judy that he completely redeems himself from his sub-par singing, and Judy she is equally loving toward him, doing her old trick of kicking off her Ferragamo heels when they dance, so they are roughly the same height. And as they perform side by side you get a glimpse at two performers with very different styles. Mickey looks straight at the camera, faces it dead on through most of the song, glancing at Judy ocassionally, while she makes it all about him. She leans in to him, sings for him and to him, reacting to every moment he gives her. This is something that she would do time and time again through the episodes. She would constantly defer to her guest, make sure that they got spot lighted in their duets, give them the full focus, and she would give them a lot of the better material in the duets. After awhile, Mickey shows off his comedic chops by reviving one of his most clever routines that he'd performed with Judy in personal appearances and on film in Girl Crazy: the Goofy Golfer, and he's really quite charming in it.
The second half of the show is largely devoted to a sketch that probably played better in it's day, and seems a bit stumbly and tongue in cheek for it's own good. It was obviously rehearsed, but it's too loosely scripted and most of the comedic moments fall flat as a result, aside from a wonderful moment when Mickey mocks his own penchant for hamming it up, showing again how wonderfully funny he can be.
The final moment of the show worth remembering is from Judy's "Born in a Trunk" segment. At the end of each show, Judy would stand alone on her "runway" with a large stage trunk, and sing one or two final numbers to close the evening. The number Judy chose for the opening episode, "Old Man River", was not conventional, and not often performed by women, and the CBS executives hated it. They wanted something nostalgic and familiar like "Over The Rainbow" or "The Trolley Song", but Judy insisted on pushing boundaries, and doing things her way. She would take a lot of input and let other people make a lot of decisions, but when it came to musical selections, she was of the firm opinion that she knew what was right for her. The performance proves her right, and is one of the highlights of the series...
All in all, a pretty great show that displays a relaxed, healthy looking and sophisticated Garland and it's really a shame that this wasn't the first episode aired, as I think it would have payed so much better than the hokey countrified episode that was the official premier with guest star Donald O'Connor. While that episode actually beat the unbeatable competition "Bonanza" (a color program when color tv was a true novelty and the event television of it's day- God knows why they put Garland in such a tough time slot) one thinks the show might have fared a lot better later on if the audiences had been shown this first.
A couple of final comments on Garland's look. I love her gowns in this episode. They were (with the exception of the one in the opening number) designed by Edith Head who was fired due to disagreements with George Schlatter, the director. He didn't like her approach to the costumes, nor did he like her demeanor, and so she was replaced by Ray Aghayan who had a much more high fashion look in mind. It's very stylized, very sixties, and yet, while it's definitely the minority opinion...I prefer Head's conception. As for the hairstyling, it's surprising what a difference a "do" makes. As the season went on, Garland would go from a relaxed and tousled look to a Dairy Queen "dip cone" look.
To me, it's constricting, and artificial, more architecture than hair. In fact, I would have preferred her to have her hair a little longer than she does altogether, because, while I know that a forty-something year old women at that time was considered much older than we would consider one now, a more youthful hairstyle would have been lovely on her.
Ok, one LAST clip! After the credits rolled on the show, someone left the cameras rolling and Judy and Mickey were captured as they say their thanks to the studio audience. It's a special treat that really captures how they felt about each other. Enjoy...
So I've decided on a new undertaking, a new blogging project. I've decided to re-watch all episodes of Judy's critically acclaimed, ill-fated television show which lasted one season from 1963-64, and blog about them, one episode a day for the next twenty-six days. I know this may lose me some readers, as it appeals to a pretty "niche" audience, and yet, this whole blog serves a niche audience, so what the hell. I'm a gonna do it. And once I start. I vow to watch one episode a day, and write about it for twenty-six days, until I've reached the last episode.
Still, a decision has to be made before the first show is watched...
The shows were not aired in the order that they were taped. The first five were produced by George Schlatter, who would later gain fame as producer of Laugh-In. They were glossy, glamorous, and glitzy. The guest stars included Lena Horne, Mickey Rooney, Liza Minnelli, Count Basie and Tony Bennet. But CBS was concerned by some comments made by a random sampling of audience members who viewed the taped episodes. They said things like Judy looked nervous, she touched her guests too much...the concensous was that she was too unapproachable, too glamorous and not enough of the girl next door. The former "best pal" Garland image had morphed through the years into that of a mercurial, extremely talented and troubled "Star!" and the brass wanted someone more down to earth, and a show more in keeping with their current folksy offerings like The Beverly Hillbillys". And so the production team was unduly fired. Schlatter was gone, most everyone else was axed as well, with only a few people remaining. Also dropped were the guest stars Schlatter had planned to team Garland, including Nat King Cole, Betty Grable, Steve and Eydie, and Phil Harris and Alice Faye. Instead there would be a lot more "down home" acts mixed in with the fellow legends, guests like the "The Dillards", and Zina Bethune of the drama "Nurses".
Aside from changing up a lot of the guests, the new team would attempt to provide Judy with a bunch of regulars to be surrounded by, a "family" so to speak, much in the way The Carol Burnett Show would later. The team would also add certain segments which could be relied upon to appear on a regular basis in an attempt to give each episode the same structure, as opposed to Schlatter's approach of each show being a "special". Finally, they would also attempt to make Judy more approachable by writing comedic bits which would knock Judy off her "pedestal". They would mock her age, her reputation, and lack of television know how.
In order to present what the execs thought was one of the better shows as it's series premier, they chose to air an episode produced by the second team rather than the initially planned, first taped show, with Judy's former co-star and dear friend Mickey Rooney. Other episodes would air out of order as well, until you get later on in the series.
So here's the quandary. Watch as aired? See a less cohesive order, which reproduces the way the television audiences first saw them? Or watch them as taped and watch the chronological progression of the show? One allows you to see the show as others first did, and the other allows you a step-by-step walk through the show and lets you see how Judy changes throughout the process. Which is more important? Which is the "true" experience? Seeing the shows as they should have been viewed, or how they actually were.
Meet Me in St. Louis is screening at the Paramount tonight and in honor of that showing, here's a little Judy Garland Christmas joy. If you're in the Austin area, I highly recommend trotting out to the historic Paramount Theatre to see the film at 7PM. It will be followed by White Christmas at 9:25. Even if you've seen these classics on your television, there is nothing like the communal experience of enjoying them with a big crowd of people in the dark. The big screen is magical, and it's as close to time travel as you are likely to get. In case you don't get out tonight, here's a clip of Judy singing the Christmas favorite she made famous...
Remember this? Marlo Thomas' Free To Be You and Me? This was a watershed moment for a generation of "sensitive" boys. Specifically, this lil ole' video. "William Wants A Doll".
I saw it in the middle of Miss Duggar's home room in fifth grade. All the kids were crowded around the t.v. watching the story of William and his doll, and how much he wants it. Thank the Lord for the grandma who finally comes along and gives him what he wants. Every future gay boy (or doll loving straight boy) know sit's not Father, but Grandma who knows best. Yes. I wanted a doll. But not just any old doll. Not Barbie. She was too frivolous. The doll I wanted, I had been dreaming of since I was three years old. It was my holy grail, my maltese falcon, my Red Ryder BB gun. You may remember it from my last post. It looked a little something like this:
I'd finally come to realize I wasn't going to get my hands on the Emerald City Playset (that would come later) but if I could just get my hands on a plastic version of my teen-aged fairy godmother, then surely everything would be alright and I would never want again. I just wanted to be close to my dream girl, and the only way I was going to do that was by getting my little hands on that little idol, the "golden calf" that MGM had tempted me into loving wholeheartedly.
Years went by. Mego stopped making the dolls. No matter, because there were dealers who could still get their hands on them and send them your way. For the right price. That price, back in the mid-eighties, was thirty dollars, and in an art imitates life moment my grandmother sent me a check for Christmas so I could "get myself something special". I immediately called my dealer, her name was Elaine, and ordered the doll who owned a mail-order business that specialized in (get ready) Garlandia. I was twelve.
I played sick on the day it was set to be delivered so I could lay my hands on it as soon as was possible. The next day I brought it to school and showed it to my best friend as we sat in the back row of math class. He and I had watched "Oz" together several times, so I knew he was safe. And yet, after looking at it he said... "Hey guys, look what Joe has!"
I got a sickening feeling in my stomach. My chest churned. Holy shit, no! Betrayal. I quickly shoved Dorothy in my worn out green back pack as I cursed myself for bringing my dirty little secret into the belly of the beast. It was a doll! Of course it was. It was no fucking action figure, no matter how little it was. No matter that it didn't come with multiple outfits. It was a god dammed doll, and no matter what Marlo Thomas or some sweet cartoon grandmother said, I had violated the sacred kid rule by owning and loving it! What the fuck was I gonna do???
The answer was...nothing. No heads turned to scoff and laugh, and scold. The class went on as if he'd said nothing. As a kid who ate Smurfberry during school lunches, Wes was nearly as low on the middle school hierarchy as I was. And after all, it hadn't said it very loud, so for the moment, my secret was safe. Safe until I would feel strong enough to let it out on my own.
So what's the lesson here? I guess it's this. Parents, you will not be able to change your kids. They are who they are, and they want what they want. In fact, those things they are denied will become fetish objects that they will gleefully rub and touch in the back row of their math class when they are sure no one else is looking. Is that what you want? Is it?
When I first heard that The Wizard of Oz was getting the 3D treatment, my mind immediately flashed to the notoriously slapdash 3D done for Clash of the Titans a few years back, and if you have similarly ambivelant feelings about 3D, I don't blame you, but let me put your mind at ease.
This experience is the best of what 3D can offer and made me feel like the proverbial fly on the wall as all of the action occurred in front of my eyes. Even, the paintings that fill out the landscapes have been transferred to 3-D. This technology combined with the huge screen and surround sound, made the film seem as present, modern, sleek and brilliant as it's ever been.
It was as if it was filmed yesterday, but without CGI, and with the tremendous attention to craftsmanship that seems in many ways lost today. And the lovely thing about the quality is how much detail you are able to see. You can count Judy Garland's freckles, the wrinkles in her dress, her distorted reflection as she looks into the crystal ball (which has to be seen to be believed) as her Aunt Em transforms into the menacingly wicked Witch of the West. You can even, in rare moments see Bert Lahr's wig line.
I was aware for the first time of just how often little Toto was bounding around under the four friends constantly moving feet, and how constant the lion's tail was swinging, as if it had a life of its own. Plus, because of the 3D, I felt as if I were moving with the camera, and was aware for the first time of all those beautiful crane shots. It's just a stunning, immersive experience, and one with a saddenly short life span. The critics all agree it looks wonderful, and I've linked to some reviews if you care to check them out.
Below is a short promotional film which illustrates the restoration and the application of 3D and IMAX technology. Hopefully it will get you to go, because you only have today and tomorrow and then it will be gone from theatres and heading to (gasp) television.
And finally, for the film buffs, there is a beautiful pictorial book that delves into the sets, lights, costumes, and props called The Wizardry of Oz, which you can get on Amazon.com.
My obsession began early, and except for the short period of time between age ten and thirteen when I did my best to put away the pursuits I considered less than masculine, I have been faithful. For me, she is my guiding star, the wounded healer who worked through the wounds to find the joy, and who was courageous enough to share all the longing, giddiness, conviction and radiance she possessed.
There's a clip I can't help but share every year, as for me it simply captures her like no other video. It's a performance of "When the Sun Comes Out" from the first episode of her short lived television variety show. I've paired it with the Jack Parr interview that showed what a charismatic raconteur she was and made the series that was to follow this appearance possible.
The Punchy Players have been creating some hilarious videos at their youtube channel featuring celebs and TV characters of the past including Hazel, Caroline Ingalls, Lucy, Liza Minnelli, Julie Andrews and Ann Miller. Their humor is always fresh, sharp, and never mean spirited, which I love. They often feature videos with Judy Garland, and they first came to my notice through "Judy's Cream of Wheat". While that one is definitely a keeper, this new one might be my favorite. It imagines what might happen if a child brought Judy to "Show and Tell".
And... here's an original medley, for those of you who haven't seen much of Judy's 1960's work.
She's fierce, determined, extremely confident, a fighter, she is all the grande dames of the theatre bundled up in to one compact little package. And like any great star, she started out as a minor character and rose to the ranks of cult icon. She pays tribute to all the great female archetypes at the same time lampooning them. She proclaims herself to be the greatest star all the while, she grimly acknowledges her physical inadequacies. She leaps into every great female role ever created, be it Scarlett in "Gone With the Wind", Cleopatra, or Joan of Arc. She begs, demands, struts, coyly flirts and climbs to the top, over countless bodies, if she must. But she's not all toughness. She has a very tender and a surprisingly vulnerable side. She is the cliche of the soul who's great bravado masks her deep insecurities, which one can only expect from the underdog that she is. I mean, who would expect a pig from her humble beginnings to win the love of her life, great fame, and personal contentment? She wills it so, with brutality, humor, and panache.
I was one of many young boys who saw her and instantly fell in awe. People wonder why we love those great women like Judy, Bette, Barbra, Liza. I think it's because we appreciate their immense talent and admire the way they reached those heights without the benefits of great physical beauty. What they had went deeper, but just was just as worthy, more worthy, than the obvious beauty. Not that these women weren't physically beautiful, but it sometimes took a closer look to see. And once seen, complemented by those inner gifts, everyone who sees it realizes this is the real thing, more deserving of appreciation than the cookie cutter mold.
As a soft, more artistic, "sensitive" boys growing up in the world we, most of us, realize we will never be the kind of man our fathers want us to be. We don't fit the accepted mold. We have talents, but not the kind that is considered fit for men. We have flair, creativity, sensitivity, open emotions. But what can we do with those gifts that are often seen as liabilities by those who's approval we want to win? And then we see these women in similar circumstances. Women who didn't fit the mold that men expected them to. They had obstacles to overcome, but overcame them because they had something more than that beauty. A gift that a lot of men would love to deny because they couldn't mash it down or denigrate it as a commodity for their personal use like they could with physical beauty. They were feminists all, the great divas. They make it well known that they are as good as any man, by proclaiming, not that their gifts are the same as the patriarch, but uniquely theirs and equal to any man's. And as a kid growing up who related to their gifts more than those of the straight man, I took faith in their fight to be heard. They seemed to be saying to me that their successes and rewards could be mine if I only had faith in my own unique strengths. Strengths that I might be the only one to see for the time being.
We don't relate to Garland because her life was rough and our lives are rough. That story is just another way to keep us down. The idea that we related to her weaknesses and love to exalt in them, to wallow in them. No. We relate to her because she is overcame great odds to rise to great heights. There was something deep inside her that she didn't always believe in, but that was apparent to everyone who met her. It dragged you toward her. And I'm not talking about her voice, but her strength of spirit, her absolute willingness to expose her open veins and emote authentically about her full experience of life. She sang about things people don't always want to hear about. It's that power of self expression as well as the immense instrument that allowed it that make us love her. Her fall from grace only reminds us that such self expression and naked sincerity can come with great cost and if you truly want to follow the diva's path you may have to pay a heavy price. However, that price may very well be one you are willing to pay for the reward of artistic and personal fulfillment.
And isn't it ironic that such an icon as Miss Piggy stemmed from the minds of men. Starting out as kind of a joke on women, she evolved into a fully realized, three dimensional character in spite of what they saw her as initially, she had her own ideas. The art that was the character proclaimed to her makers that she was something more, as much as the character itself proclaimed this to her fellow muppets. And soon the artists were under the control of their art as much as she was under theirs. Now that's a diva.
