the nature of talent

Recently I've become reacquainted with Judy Garland. I'd been a fan of hers since my childhood, being devoted to the film "The Wizard of Oz" and her one season TV variety series. Back then there were no home videos, so the annual showing of "Wizard" on TV was quite an event. I loved her voice and felt a kindred spirit in her Dorothy. Over later years I saw most of her other films at various times, covering the range from childhood to teen years and young woman and finally her TV appearances during the 60s.

Over the last few days I've discovered that I had had only the most superficial appreciation of her talents. I watched her final film "I Could Go On Singing" and was taken aback by the depth of her acting ability. Even if one just assumes she was playing herself in this story, the emotions she was able to expose were amazing. And her vocal talents were still top notch.

Then I watched a bit of one of her mid-career films "In The Good Old Summertime" and her perplexity at finding herself in love with Van Johnson whom she had detested earlier was delightful. Afterwards it was back to later-day Garland and a one-woman concert performance in her 1963-64 series. Vocally again she was superb and the emotions she put into her songs were never the shallow histrionics that other singers were wont to indulge in. Watching and listening to her you believed every word she sang. Her rendition of "America" at the end of the show was beautifully heartfelt.

The talent this woman possessed was amazing. Was being the keeper of this gift too much of a burden to bear up under? That she died at the age of only 47 seems so unfair; to her and to the world. She gave so much to her audiences that she seemed to keep nothing in reserve for herself. Did her gift come at too high a price?

Mediocrity may have its compensations.