Rocketman may have been the feel-good musical biopic of the year, and a brilliant gaddam bit of cinema, but Judy has the heart, soul, and enough nostalgia for this gay musical-lover to steal his heart. In what is essentially the real-life version of A Star is Born, we're subjected to the absolute evil that is showbiz fame. Here we see the monstrous aftereffects of Old Hollywood and exactly why it had to die. It also makes the #MeToo movement feel all the more justified, for those viewers who perhaps thought it was a "popular" or incendiary smear campaign.
Judy attempts to capture the final months in Judy Garland's life. Ravaged by the drugs she was given and the food she was denied, her frail and failing body and mind are forced into extreme situations to make money. She is forcibly separated from her children, sent overseas, and obligated to perform in order to stay afloat and, hopefully, return to her family. The film takes us within her mind, where her children are the only things that matter anymore, and she just can't get to them. The drugs make sense in this context, along with the booze and the men she tries to love.
Some parts of Judy's real-life story are, of course, blurred here. Mark Herron, her fourth husband, is entirely absent from the proceedings. We're introduced to her third (Rufus Sewell) and fifth (Finn Wittrock) in turn, however, and we see the dangerously abusive interactions between them. Judy is not blameless here, but the frequent flashbacks to her own childhood abuse spark compassion and understanding if not justification. The relationship she shares with her oldest daughter Liza is beautiful but only onscreen momentarily, while her professional relationships are as volatile as those she shares with her husbands. What makes its mark, however, are the relationships she shares with her fans. One especially poignant scene depicts her enjoying an evening with two gay superfans, a lovely bit of fan service to her legions of gay supporters and enthusiasts. "You won't forget me, will you?" are Judy's final lines in the film.
Rising majestically above the already strong biopic itself, Renee Zellweger returns to the silver screen with her most accomplished performance yet. Unbelievably technical in execution, the calculation and physical work she put into becoming the celebrity is palpably exhausting. And yet it never once distracts, never once disappoints, and never once reveals the facade. Zellweger is Garland onscreen, in the smallest of twitches and in the grandest of swigs from the bottle. She even sounds uncannily like Garland in her later years, belting out classics onstage and crooning "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" from her leisurely pose on the floor.
I wept through the entire movie. Sure, I laughed a few times and smiled through my tears, but by the end I was utterly dehydrated. By the time the final text appears -- L. Frank Baum's "A heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others" -- I completely lost it. Be prepared with tissues, a hanky, and a water bottle.
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