- Dominion Theatre -

CAN JUDY WOW YOU AGAIN?

Britain is a pretty important place to Judy Garland, the "Wizard of Oz" child  star who's grown into a show business legend. Just over six years ago, her  career at its lowest ebb, her health a constant trouble, she had to be pushed  headily on to the London Palladium stage- she was scared of facing an audience.

BUT; so great was the welcome that in her own words "I suddenly knew that  this was the beginning of a new life." In "Picturegoer" she wrote: "Hollywood thought I was through, Then came that  wonderful opportunity . . . to appear at the London Palladium, where, I can  truthfully say, Judy Garland was reborn."

And now Judy Garland is back before London theatre audiences, at the Rank  Organization's huge Dominion, in Tottenham Court Road. 

Though she claims to owe boundless gratitude in English audiences, Miss Garland knows her price: plans for her British season were shelved at one stage, because, it is said, of her financial demands.
Will Britain again give the Garland career a wholesale boost? Will audiences yell "Good old Judy," as they did at her palladium show night after night?

Remember that, though the critics adored her film, "A Star Is Born" two years back, it wasn't the box office success it was expected to be.  Even so, "Picturegoer's" money is on Judy Garland. She has the theatre magic of a true trouper. And these days that's a winning quality.

G.M.

London is that somewhere over the rainbow for Judy Garland. London's Dominion Theatre stage was her horizon, where skies are blue and a sea - of human faces - rippled waves of emotion reserved for the very few.

Not since Danny Kaye's triumphant opening night at the Palladium had a London theatre audience been so captivated and overwhelmed by a single purveyor of talent. Judy Garland has been acclaimed in every corner of the earth- but the memory of London's homage at Wednesday's premiere performance will be a keepsake Judy will never forget in a lifetime.

Nor the audience. With walls almost bursting at the seams, a jam-packed crowd marveled at the rare sight of a born entertainer- pouring every ounce of sheer artistry into an offering which was breathtaking- from the moment Judy emerged, blasted by the thunderous applause from scores of stars out front.

Her lone figure, grappling for words of thanks midst the thrilling welcome, conjured up a lightning flashback- the kid with plaits and an upturned nose embarking on a movie career in the 'thirties; finding stimulation in the "Trolley Song," to invitation to "Meet Me In St. Louis," Mickey Rooney, Mr. Gable, tramping the avenue with Fred Astaire, fun of the Easter Parade- and, alas, her own world of hell from unhappy marriages and symptoms that success was shattering her capacity to live with it. Then this 
dream is broken- by the voice which grips at you heart-strings, demolishing the past and compels your obedience.

Why resist when you are helpless? Like a mass hypnosis, patients succumb to the administration of a crushing telepathy; those with respect and understanding for supreme talent are mesmerized by this mighty force- and make no mistake about it, an electric tension links the consumers, and only Judy controls the voltage.

Every gesture, every breath, every sob of the voice is an accumulation of every quality one strives to seek in the idol of supreme greatness. But the all-important factor is the gift (or desire) to discriminate in the selection between mediocre and magnificent. You must enjoy absorbing the latter- only then can the utmost fulfillment be attained.

When Gordon Jenkins raised his baton, he was commanding officer of a precise regimented unit, reflecting his leadership in their response. From the moment Judy Garland forced those first notes through her choked emotions, that invisible glow which looms as the success signal was undeniably there.  Yes, there were glad songs and sad songs, but all carrying that Garland garnish, which is retained exclusively.

"It's Lovely To Be Back in London" was the prelude to a cluster of diamond studded standards which created the compliment "Miss Show Business" - and, in fact, describes the super-charged phenomenon completely in just three words. When Judy unburdened her load with "I Feel A Song Comin' On," it came in a flourish of reality.

"You Made Me Love You" and "For Me and My Gal" were full-throated, poignant and convincing. Her fantastic "Come Rain Or Come Shine" provided thunder and rainbows almost in the same breath. Each offering was better than the last- how such a crescendo of effort never flagged is the answer to 
Judy's ability for gripping her audience more deeply with each note.

Reflections of a great film "A Star Is Born" - reflections of the injustice which denied her an "Academy Award" for the top screen performance of this decade- and her painful reiteration of "The Man That Got Away," Followed by an inclusion from her latest album "Alone"- the beguiling "How About Me?" Judy refused a verdict- throwing another memory on the Jolson treasure chest, "Rock-A-Bye Your Baby."

Who can blame her for singing the glad tidings with "This Is My Lucky Day," or recapturing the common touch in "We're A Couple Of Swells" - complete as a tramp, aided by Jimmy Brooks.

Like a triumphant hero on a misty hill, Judy inspires the mood to reveal what is somewhere "Over The Rainbow." Sore hands discarded discomfiture by a deafening acknowledgment. The song so much associated with Judy Garland had been tenderly delivered- crystal-clear with no microphone - with an 
underlying personal hope of peace and contentment not far away. 

An avalanche of bouquets (presented on-stage by Vera Lynn, Pet Clarke, Moira Lister, Alma Cogan and Donna Reed) stemmed the tide, but on their departure a fierce cry for encores.

After an assistant removes her wig from the "tramp" routine, Judy sat on the stage edge, clad in rags, dangling her legs in the orchestra pit- finally unleashing "Me And My Shadow" and "Swanee."

No doubt about it, the audience had been whipped into a frenzy by sheer conviction; only the immediate playing of the National Anthem permitted Judy the opportunity of "escaping."

Four costume changes, first night nerves and several dance routines with her eight stage male escorts had sapped the last drain from Judy's tired body. Her efforts exceeded any pre-conceived maximum; no vocal performer in living memory had poured so much into a session, lasting about ninety 
minutes. Looking back over the whole effort, only a Betty Hutton performance during a supposed retirement engagement in 1954 was comparable for sheer brilliance and effort.

Records produce manufactured stars; how could they compare with Garland - born and bred in theatre dressing rooms, with the stage in her blood since entering civilization. That's why Judy is one of the few remaining all-time greats.

Every aspiring vocalist- every supposed singing star- all are lacking in their basic show business requirements if they refuse to study this genius at the Dominion. If only, somewhere in the universe, the next Judy Garland existed.  But who knows what may loom from over that rainbow?