Thursday, June 30

From the 1960s: I Could Go on Singing

1963 Musical Drama
From United Artists
Directed by Ronald Neame

Starring
Judy Garland
Dirk Bogarde
Gregory Phillips
Jack Klugman
Aline MacMahon

This was Garland's last movie.  That wasn't the plan.  It just turned out that way.  I regard it as one of her best.

While I was never a rider on the great Garland bandwagon, I did quietly thrill at her singing (particularly her concerts) and was utterly fascinated by her personal life.  I did not particularly go wacko over her musical movies... and we know I love my musicals... because I considered most of them as sudsy, silly and corny but I recognize many were immensely popular.  Now and then I was drawn to a few of them.

In 1945,  she worked under the direction of her then-husband, Vincente Minnelli, in a drama, The Clock.  But until the last decade or so of her life, dramas didn't figure much on her résumé.  But these films began in
1954 with her triumphant turn in A Star Is Born, a musical drama that earned her an Oscar nomination.  Her next film, seven years later, Judgment at Nuremberg, netted her a second Oscar nomination.  























Two years later came a third drama when she starred alongside Burt Lancaster and Gena Rowlands in director John Cassavetes's drama, A Child Is Waiting.  Later in the year came I Could Go on Singing, another musical drama.  It seemed to me that Garland's life was always full of drama and she drew upon that to deliver so many of her songs.  Why should we not believe that she was quite capable doing the same in films?   And they were good-to-great and she was, too.  At the time I remember hoping that these movies would lead to more good dramatic work and the lady might also get that Oscar she so badly wanted.  But it was not to be.  I saw it as just one more tragedy in her short life.

I Could Go on Singing is based on a one-hour television film called The Lonely Stage and starred Mary Astor (who played Garland's mother in two films, most notably Meet Me in St. Louis).   She was thrilled to be working with her buddy, Dirk Bogarde.  They had known and adored one another for a few years... we know about Garland and her gay boys, several of whom she married.  Bogarde thought she was a monumental talent.  The change in titles, by the way, partly came from wanting to let the public know that she sings in the film.

She plays an American concert performer who lands a gig in London.  She's brought along her manager (Jack Klugman) and personal assistant (Aline MacMahon) on whom she's dependent for getting through the day, the whole day.  During her short stay she meets up with former lover Bogarde at his home.  He is now a respected surgeon raising an early-teen son (Gregory Phillips) who enjoys his life in boarding school.














Years earlier their American romance ended because Garland was too much into her career to risk taking on domestic life.  Shortly after their breakup she gave birth to a son.  She asked Bogarde to raise him and it was agreed on that she would never again see the boy.

As the film opens, she is knocking on his door.  She has changed her mind.  She wants to meet her son.  He says he's sorry, that it's impossible.  Well, impossible isn't a word people use with me, she crows.  Sounds like that comes from real life, doesn't it?  More later.  He reminds her of their long-ago agreement and that he intends that she's going to continue to honor it.

But apparently one doesn't say impossible to her because and hour later he has agreed to one viewing.  That is not to come with a parental reveal.  The kid is playing rugby and they rush over to the field.  Bogarde expects it will mean she sees him but doesn't meet him but when the boy sees his father and her (he knows she's a famous singer), he rushes over to greet them.  Mother and son are so taken with one another.

The kid invites her to a musical play he is in at the school that very night.  He easily talks his father into attending with her.  That then should have been the end of it but we know she never intended to keep her agreement.  And if she had, we wouldn't have much of a movie.

She invites father and son to her opening the following night and to her surprise Bogarde accepts and the kid is over the moon.  He's not sure why she's being so nice to him (and says so) but he's caught up in a reverie.  The next night the kid attends the concert alone because Bogarde has had to suddenly fly off to Rome on business.

After the concert, when Garland was supposed to send the kid back to school, she instead invites him to spend the night.  The following day, when she again should have sent him packing, she encourages him to stay and they end up going on a boat ride and a helicopter ride and enjoying long talks and he spends another night.

When Bogarde returns and finds out what has happened, he is furious.  I am so sick with anger I can hardly speak with you, he says.  Back in her apartment they have a great row (my favorite scene).  He needs me and I want him, she cries out.  He's not yours to have, Bogarde yells back at her.  Both are shocked to see the son standing in the doorway listening to the truth about his parentage.  A bit later comes my second favorite scene... in the hospital... where Bogarde tries to get her to be on time for that evening's concert and she adamantly refuses to sing again.

Although both of them confess they still love one another, the ending is a little ambiguous although pleasing enough.




















Neither Garland nor Bogarde was pleased with chunks of the dialogue and he, being her longtime, good friend, knew how to rewrite it so that Garland-speak came out of the mouth of the character.  (He declined screen credit for his writing.)

Consider the following:

I'm always a sellout.

I'm just me.  I belong to myself.

I do whatever I damn well please with myself and no one can ask me any questions.  

Can you make me sing?  I sing for myself, whenever I want to.  I sing for my own pleasure.

I hang onto every bit of rubbish there is to hang onto in life.  I've thrown all the good bits away.

Bogarde wrote himself this line:  You give more love than anyone but you take more love than anyone can possibly give.

Along with the numerous bits of dialogue, there is the domineering behavior, the loneliness, vulnerability, the desperate need to be loved, the often complicated relationships with her children and the emotional hunger of lost relationships. 

It's also not without irony that her character is a concert singer which is what she would be for her remaining six years of her life. 

British director Neame said he was nearly hypnotized watching her perform the hospital scene.  He says he witnessed Garland playing her character Jenny and then turning into Garland the woman.  She was no longer acting... she was soul-bearing.  He couldn't get over it.  He was planning on a few quick cuts but decided in one continuous take when he realized she was offering a very special insight into who she was.  Bogarde, too, realized it and though not in the script, he dropped to his knees and drew himself near her.

Neame was thrilled when he was hired to work with Garland.  For a few weeks things seemed to go well.  She called Neame Pussycat.  He catered to her as many directors did until he could no longer tolerate her abusive insults, delusions and fits of fiery temperament.  The British crew which at first found her delightful came to loathe her.  Her chronic lateness was usually the cause.  (A funny addendum here is that the next American actress with whom the crew worked was Susan Hayward, there to work on Stolen Hours, said they could hardly wait to work with Garland again.)

Not to make excuses for her behavior exactly but she was going through a divorce (from Sid Luft) and there were child custody concerns and then he suddenly turned up in London which sent her off the rails.

Her angst shows up there on the screen but so does a softness and kindness.  It's all about the boy.  Their relationship is the thrust of the story.  Their scenes together are tender, thoughtful and loving.  They are so wildly crazy about one another.  It's really charming to see her in a role like this.

Listening to Garland sing and watching her act shared a decided rawness.  It could almost be said she didn't know how to pretend.  She just was.  Her singing and dramatic acting pulls one in and can envelop you if you let it.  I know she could be funny and light in her personal life, she did love to entertain friends at parties with a song or two, but importantly, she always hurt.  That, in turn, resulted in some seriously questionable behavior.  I think she brought that rawness to this performance.  


Young Phillips, who didn't go on to have much of a movie career, is magical as the boy.  I didn't detect a false move in any of the three times I watched the movie in the last week.  

Gregory Phillips, one of her finest costars
















Bogarde, handsome and stylish, lands it, too, although he's not in it for a long sequence in the middle and his overall screen time seems less than the boy's.  I have always been impressed with his other assignments on the picture.

The only other characters of any importance are Klugman and MacMahon as her backup team.  They give their all.  Klugman was in that original hour TV version as well.  

Some of the songs Garland sings at the Palladium, before a live audience, where she had some great successes.  The film opens with the title song over the credits and she closes the film with a live rendering on stage.  It was written, by the way, by Harold Arlen and E. Y. Harburg who had previously written one she made famous...  um... er... oh, you know,  something about a rainbow.

She also sings Hello Bluebird, It Never Was You and a song I've always thought she was born to sing, By Myself.  All of the famous Garland concert mannerisms are in full view.  There she was... incandescent, often haunting, an enchantress.

What did not happen so well... and I admit this sounds like a major meow... is how she's dressed.  Former Paramount fashionista, Edith Head, is credited with Garland's gowns and I didn't like the ones she wore on stage.  In particular, that little red ensemble she wears during the By Myself number is so unflattering.  Did she not go in for the final fitting?  This has not gone unrecognized by others... meowers one and all... and when it was pointed out to Head, she claimed she didn't design it and didn't know how it got into the film.   Oh Edie, you're a gas.  Wonder if she ever considered politics.

They came together for the premier



















Here is the most autobiographical of all her films and it's why it's a very special Garland movie, in addition to being the final one, of course.  It was not successful upon its initial release but has grown in stature over the decades.   It's a lovely film that results in a lovely tribute.

Here's a trailer:




Next posting:
A European actor

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