Hold that time, illustrated by Gitty Duncan
Hold that time
“Meet
me in St. Louis, Louis…”
If
my seven-year-old daughter
were
a U.S. year, she would be
1947.
Summer.
While
the movie’s a slog to me,
she
is transported on Garland’s
Technicolor
eyes to a time
cradled
tenderly in the arms
of a
later time that used film
as a
salve and an opiate.
Maybe
she won’t find out how glum
Judy
became. The plot’s struggles,
in
retrospect, are quick to dim.
When
we watch the “Making of…” reel,
it
opens with clips of bombers.
Instead
we steer on Google to
The
Fair and Liza Minnelli.
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