The Cult of Judy

There are some performers who have it, really have it. By some sort of empathy, they reach out over the footlights and merge with the audience. They may be hard and disciplined in their effulgence (Alla Nazimova in her raddled sixties could make Ibsen come alive—and the audience saw her as young and vibrant) or quietly aware of their excellence (Pablo Casals at the cello transcended the moment of music, and will as long as he can put bow to strings). Or, again, they may be outgoing emotion, yet one with their art. Then they become cults, with a devoted and worshiping public.

Whatever this quality of communication is, it makes a magic which is a great gift for those of us who cannot do, but must watch. The performer who has it ceases to be himself. He is possessed of his audience, even as his audience is possessed of him. This is what makes a cult. And this is what Judy Garland has, what lifted her from the young girl who so appealing-ly sang “Over the Rainbow” in the Wizard of Oz to the joyous, tragic, tears-to-the-eye-bringing singer of America’s living popular ballads. It is unnecessary nowadays to say, “Judy Garland.” The “Judy” is sufficient, as storming, cheering, shaken and deeply moved Americans who have heard her in concert can attest. Judy is a cult. Even before she opens her mouth to sing, she has made her point.

RT

About the Author

Ralph de Toledano

There are some performers who have it, really have it. By some sort of empathy, they reach out over the footlights and merge with the audience. They may be hard and disciplined in their effulgence (Alla Nazimova in her raddled sixties could make Ibsen come alive—and the audience saw her as young and vibrant) or quietly aware of their excellence (Pablo Casals at the cello transcended the moment of music, and will as long as he can put bow to strings). Or, again, they may be outgoing emotion, yet one with their art. Then they become cults, with a devoted and worshiping public.

Whatever this quality of communication is, it makes a magic which is a great gift for those of us who cannot do, but must watch. The performer who has it ceases to be himself. He is possessed of his audience, even as his audience is possessed of him. This is what makes a cult. And this is what Judy Garland has, what lifted her from the young girl who so appealing-ly sang “Over the Rainbow” in the Wizard of Oz to the joyous, tragic, tears-to-the-eye-bringing singer of America’s living popular ballads. It is unnecessary nowadays to say, “Judy Garland.” The “Judy” is sufficient, as storming, cheering, shaken and deeply moved Americans who have heard her in concert can attest. Judy is a cult. Even before she opens her mouth to sing, she has made her point.