Zellweger brings ‘Judy’ to life
Raven from RuPaul’s Drag Race once described her style of drag as “giving essence” of female qualities rather than a more old-school female “impersonation” that was seen in a lot of early drag. The best biopic performances often channel this same quality—delivering the essence of an iconic pop culture figure without coming across as a direct impersonation. In Judy, Renée Zellweger eerily captures the essence of the once glowing star who is facing the end of the line.
Everyone knows Judy Garland as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz and later as yet another Hollywood tragedy, an enormous talent gone too soon due to booze and pills. While Judy does dabble in flashbacks to Garland’s difficult childhood as a studio star under the strict control of Louis B. Mayer (Richard Cordery) the film primarily focuses on the final years of her life leading up to her accidental overdose death at age 47.
When we meet the adult Judy, she’s broke, unemployable and getting kicked out of yet another hotel, leaving her and her two youngest children, son Joey and daughter Lorna (Bella Ramsey of Game of Thrones fame) to scramble for a place to stay. She eventually caves and lets the children stay with their father, Sidney (Rufus Sewell) as she opts to fend for herself. We see that she’s charming, and that gets her far, but her star power has long since run out and she’s coming to terms with the sun setting on her career. Out of desperation, she accepts an offer to perform in London, hoping to have enough money to secure a more stable home and fight for custody of her kids.
She’s a mess, but she’s a lovable mess and it’s clear that the people around her care about her, though their ability or willingness to render any aid is minimal. This is most notable in Rosalyn (Jessie Buckley) and Burt (Royce Pierreson) her tour manager and bandleader who both see that she can barely care for herself, but don’t want to cross any professional lines by doing anything about it.
This is contrasted through flashbacks to the way the Hollywood studio system controlled every aspect of her life as a young teen, setting up fake dates for her and Mickey Rooney, not allowing her to eat any food, pumping her full of pills and some heavily implied sexual assault at the hands of Mayer. Nobody there cared about her. She was a product. As Mayer says in the most on-the-nose line of the film, “It’s a prop. It’s not meant to be enjoyed.”
The decision to not dwell on typical biopic tropes is a wise choice. There are no clear cut villains and that keeps the story from becoming too simplified. In most biopics, Rosalyn would be a manipulative exploiter, her flighty lover Mickey Deans (Finn Whittrock) would be draining her bank account and bleeding her dry in her most vulnerable hour, and she’d have some sort of doctor or co-star who was supplying her with an endless sea of substances to lead to her downfall. We’ve seen it a million times in these movies. What’s so refreshing about Judy is that none of these characters play to the obvious archetypes. In fact, we see both Rosalyn and Burt trying to extend care to her, though both seem to know that she’s a runaway train that just can’t be stopped.
Perhaps the most intriguing thing about Judy is the way Zellweger becomes Garland, even singing live on stage. Even without the assist of contacts and prosthetic teeth, the way she carries herself, the way she tilts her head or swings a microphone cord all screams Judy. The film is chock full of tight closeups that let us see the way she processes pain and always strives to put on a good show, even when she’s beyond being able to help herself, making her situation feel all the more tragic.
And make no mistake, Judy is a tragedy from start to finish, but somehow it avoids being utterly grim and depressing, likely because of what Zellweger brings to the role. The term Oscar-bait is usually a pejorative when we talk about this kind of Award-season fare, but don’t be surprised to see Zellweger score a nomination for this close up look at the last days of a waiting star.
