Little known secret: more than anything I want to dance. Astaire, in Holiday Inn, I didn’t know what life was until I saw him move, and then Gene Kelly in American in Paris. Well…there’s no magic anymore, so, what have I? India. I will simply mention my one observation on this film, something very funny. If you’re familiar with films from this era, then you’ll know that what would seem to be the climax always comes when it seems reasonable, and then the film stretches on for another hour. In that “climax” here, in less than ten seconds the film turns from a reasonable Hollywood romance into blatant government propaganda as Judy Garland becomes enraged that Gene Kelly has temporarily dodged the draft by closing a door on his hand. She shivers angrily and says she never wants to see him again. Okay. And don’t forget to buy war bonds.
Judy Garland’s lips are amazing. I don’t know if I could kiss them except in the same way that I might shoot lighter fluid–just to see what happens. They exemplify precisely why film was created: to capture the human lips.