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.