



A great storyline and good acting, music and choreography but for me the scenes, the backdrops and the costumes steal the show.
Somehow I dodged the modern remake(s), so this was my first proper dance with the story — and I honestly wasn’t ready for how bruised it feels. George Cukor’s 1954 version isn’t a simple “kid makes good” ride. It’s weirdly absorbed by the long tail of failure. Fame isn’t a fairy light here; it’s a spotlight that gets hotter the longer you stand in it.
Judy Garland is the whole show. She’s funny, sharp, and vulnerable without ever leaning on “fragile” as a shortcut. You can see Esther learning how to perform being a star as much as singing like one — and how much control she gives up along the way. The industry literally renames her as Vicki Lester, and it doesn’t feel like a choice so much as a decision made for her: her image, her name, her “package”, all nudged into place by a boardroom vibe of respectable, suits-on, white middle-class men deciding what will sell. The musical numbers aren’t just there to show off; they’re doing story work — big, glossy set-pieces where the applause starts to sound like pressure. Cukor shoots it all with clean, confident staging, so you always clock who’s watching and what each moment costs.
James Mason is the necessary shadow. He’s charming in that old-Hollywood way, but there’s panic underneath — a man watching his own legend slip away. His decline is messy and public, and the film doesn’t flinch from how the industry manages the narrative, then moves on.
It’s also kind of maddening that the studio cut it down after its initial release, and later restorations had to patch missing sections back in with sepia coloured stills. You can feel the seams, and it’s hard not to mourn what isn’t there. It runs long and sags in places, but when it hits, it really hits — glamorous tragedy with a proper sting.