Vicente Minnelli | Meet Me in St. Louis / 1944

shadows

by Douglas Messerli

 

Irving Brecher and Fred F. Finlehoffe (screenplay, based on the stories by Sally Benson), Vicente Minnelli (director) Meet Me in St. Louis / 1944

 

As anyone who has seen the great Vicente Minnelli musical knows, Meet Me in St. Louis, based on Sally Benson’s beloved tales of the American belle epoch life in the Missouri river city, is a beautiful paean to American family life, as lively and enduring of a picture of Americana as any book or film before or after it. And even I, who love to point out different perspectives of cinema and literary texts, concur. For years I have loved this film for those very reasons.

     The last few times I have watched this chestnut of a film, however, something else—a darker under image—has begun to seep through its lovely Technicolor tableaus; like shadows on a mid-summer day, in which this film begins, the gentle nostalgic view of American city life, reveals more substance but also more troubling issues upon each viewing.

     The film is split into four seasons, beginning in the Summer of 1903 and ending in the Spring of 1904, with the opening of the Louisiana Purchase Exposition World’s Fair. Each season features a major celebration, most including music and dance.     

     In the first summer of the Smith family, sisters Esther (Judy Garland) and Rose (Lucille Bremer) throw a party in honor of their brother, Lon, Jr. (Henry H. Daniels, Jr.), inviting friends and the “new” boy next door, John Truett (Tom Drake), with whom Esther is secretly in love. The party is exuberance personified, as the party-goers dance a kind of frontier square dance, “Skip to My Lou,” and Esther and her younger sister ‘Tootie’ (the talented child actor, Margaret O’Brien) dance the famed late 19th century cake-walk “Under the Bamboo Tree.” Both are joyous examples of the kind of entertainment young people of 1903 clearly enjoyed. But already here, in these early scenes, we sense something more sinister behind the merriment. The “Skip to My Lou” dance was born from the frontier necessity for a way for men and women to innocently meet by “stealing partners,” a man standing in the center while the others circled while clapping hands until they reached the line “I’ll get another one prettier than you,” at which point the dancer in the center chooses a girl, who must wait out her turn in the center of the group. It was a perfect ice-breaker and way to meet new friends; one might almost describe it as an early kind of speed-dating.

     The second song, although written by blacks (the lyrics by J. Rosamund Johnson and his renowned poet brother, James Weldon Johnson), was originally sung in a black version of a minstrel show, A Trip to Coontown, all of which hints of stereotypical racial attitudes and St. Louis city housing covenants that would not be struck down until 1948.

     Throughout this first summer, moreover, the sisters are constantly plotting events, covered by small lies. The most innocent of these is Esther’s hiding of John Truett’s hat at the party, and her plea that he help her put out the lights since she is afraid of mice. Somewhat more serious is their plot to have dinner an hour earlier than usual so that Rose can have a long distance telephone conversation with her boyfriend away from the family. This entails the girl’s encouraging their maid, Katie (Marjorie Main) to lie:

 

                               Esther: Oh, Katie, they were just little white lies.

                               Katie: A lie’s a lie. Dressin’ it in white don’t help it. And just why

                                  was I lying this time?

 

     The lie, it soon appears, has not been necessary, since everyone in the family except the father (Leon Ames) knows that Rose is expecting a call. When, after refusing the early meal, the father discovers that he is the only one who has not been told, he is justifiably hurt: “When was I voted out of this family.”

     These are all small events, nearly painless incidents that occur perhaps in every family. But far darker images of life lie in the imagination of the youngest member of the Smith family, Tootie, who lives a private life of dying dolls that might be more at home in the Addams family. Joining the iceman on his rounds, Tootie notes of the doll in her arms:

                  Tootie: Poor Margeretha, I've never seen her look so pale.

                  Mr. Neeley: The sun oughta do her some good.

                  Tootie: I suspect she won't live through the night, she has four fatal diseases.

                  Mr. Neeley: And it only takes one.

                  Tootie: But she's going to have a beautiful funeral, in a cigar box my 

                              Papa gave me, all wrapped up in silver paper.

                  Mr. Neeley: That's the way to go, if you have to go.

                  Tootie: Oh, she has to go.

 

     Throughout the film Tootie and her slightly older sister, Agnes, conjure up a world of horror and terrorism. One of the most disturbing family discussions occurs in the Fall sequence of the film as the girls, dressed up as ghouls of Halloween, speak with Katie:

 

                 Agnes: Katie, where's my cat?

                 Katie: I don't know... a little while ago, she got in my way and I kicked 

                            her down the cellar steps. I could hear her spine hitting on every 

                            step.

                 Agnes: Oh, if you killed her, I'll kill you! I'll stab you to death in

                              your sleep, then I'll tie your body to two wild horses until

                              you're pulled apart.

                  Katie: Oh, won't that be terrible, now? There's your cat.

 

A few minutes later, the girls describe why they are going to “trick” (as in “trick or treat”) an elderly neighbor man:

 

                Tootie: We'll fix him fine. It'll serve him right for poisoning cats... He buys

                             meat and then he buys poison and then he puts them all together.

                Agnes:  And then he burns the cats at midnight in his furnace. You could smell

                              the smoke...

                Tootie:   ...and Mr. Braukoff was beating his wife with a red hot poker... and

                              Mr. Braukoff has empty whiskey bottles in his cellar.

     Tootie, not allowed to get near the Halloween bonfire because of her age, is the only one who will “fix” Mr. Braukoff by throwing flour into his face. For her the scene is one of absolute horror—she is a true believer in the myths about him that she and Agnes have recounted—while we perceive him as a rather sweet man with a friendly dog.

     Perhaps it is almost inevitable that these two fantasists later that night decide to throw a dummy on the tracks, almost causing the trolley to go of its tracks. John Truett, who has witnessed the event, hides them in a nearby alley, but Tootie escapes, claiming John has tried to “kill” her. Indeed, she needs stitches. Esther, shocked by Tootie’s claim, runs next door, slugging and kicking the man she proclaims to love, in revenge, a strange version of what one might describe as “domestic violence.”

      Of course, once she discovers the truth, she returns with apologies that end in a kiss. But the shadows of events remain. There is a dark world in this paradisiacal St. Louis that no one, except perhaps for Tootie, is really talking about.

     Further shadows descend soon after, as the father announces his plan to move his family to New York. Just as the family has not consulted him about Rose’s plans, he has not talked about the consequences of such a move with anyone, and the rest of the family is horrified by the impending transition in their lives, Tootie, once again, expressing it most bluntly:

 

                 Tootie: It'll take me at least a week to dig up all my dolls in the

                             cemetery.

 

     Although they ultimately accommodate themselves to their new fate, by the Winter sequence new worries and fears have beset them. Rose has no date to the annual Christmas dance and must go with her brother Lon. At the last moment before the dance, John Truett arrives to tell Esther that his tuxedo is still at the cleaners. Their Grandfather (Harry Davenport) dapperly becomes John’s replacement. He is a man who, throughout the film, wears many hats, and has a large hat collection. But the truth remains: the family is escorting one another to the ball, seemingly isolated from the community they love.

     This time, like their two younger sisters, it is Rose and Esther who have plotted to “fix” their foe, the New Yorker Lucille Ballard (June Lockhart), who has stolen away Rose’s boyfriend Warren Sheffield (Robert Sully); they have filled out her dance card with the most ugly and obnoxious males in attendance, what today we might describe as the queer boys, not perhaps actually homosexuals, but boys disdained by all the others for being too tall, too short, and in one case just plain goofy. In a sense, her disdain of them is an early kind of bullying, a prelude to later versions of homophobia played out it so very many gay movies.

      When Lucille, however, turns out to be an utterly sweet woman who suggests that Rose pair off with Warren, and she with Lon, Esther is forced, under the vigilant eye of her grandfather, to take over the queer dance partners they had assigned to Lucille. The long sequence of dances with these monsters is certainly comical, but also painful to watch as we recall that this is her last night in St. Louis. Through the miracle of movies, John Truett shows up for the last dance, as tears rush into Esther’s eyes.

     The two talk of marriage, he even willing to give up his college education. But both know it is the wrong decision, and they despair of ever seeing each other again. Upon returning home, Esther finds Tootie still awake, and to comfort her sings one of the most sad-hearted Christmas songs ever created, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” The haunting ballad, written by gay composer Hugh Martin, was originally even bleaker than it is in the movie, Garland arguing for changes for fear if she sang it people might think she was a monster.

     In the original, the beginning lines read: “Have yourself a merry little Christmas, it may be your last. Next year we may all be living in the past.” The growing bleakness that I describe seemed to creep in at every level.    

      Today, with the changed lyrics, it is one Garland’s most profoundly sung songs, assured to bring tears to everyone’s eyes. And the scene after, in which Tootie runs out into the snow in her nightgown to destroy her beloved snow people so that “no one else can have them,” truly dramatizes the darker world the Smiths are now inhabiting. As Esther rushes out to retrieve her young sister, the father is forced to reevaluate how his plans are affecting his family, and determines to remain in their beloved St. Louis. Christmas morning has arrived, and the family seems once again blessed, Warren Sheffield even rushing in the middle of their celebration to announce that he and Rose are going to be married, as if it were a challenge instead of a proposal.

     But the very last scene of the film reveals other shadows that we have sensed all along. This is a story of a world already lost. In a short time, the two elder daughters will be married and will have left home. But even more importantly, the whole world it has pictured will have died. From the very beginning of the film, the bi-sexual director Minnelli and his writers have subtly interwoven themes of decay and death into the very structure of the work. Obviously, Tootie has been obsessed with the subject, but even the young Esther has reminded her suitor, by her choice of perfume, of his grandmother. At another point, her grandfather describes her as "the very image" of her dead grandmother. Esther, in turn, describes her older sister as becoming “an old maid.” Underlying the joyful festivities of family life is the very quickness of the seasons. By the time Spring arrives all the women family members move outside the home dressed in white; only the mother has a touch of lavender in her apparel. The men are dressed in beige and gray. The lovely colors of that first Summer scene have seemingly been washed away. One might almost describe them as already being ghosts, far more ghoulish, in a sense, than the young Agnes and Tootie dressed for Halloween.

      The family is on its way to the Louisiana Purchase Exposition, the World’s Fair, a wondrous event that also, eventually, is lit up in white. As the family gathers after a day of enjoying the experience of the whole world having come to small town America, they are filled with joy and love. But the scene, in contrast to almost all others, is played out, at first, in the dark. As Dave Kehr recently wrote in an astute review of the new DVD version of this classic film in The New York Times:

 

                                  Minnelli begins with a sun-filled, back-lot exterior—the Smith

                                  house, standing at the crest of its own little hill—but concludes

                                  with a darkened, soundstage interior, dressed to represent the

                                  fair's opening night. The progress is not one of growth and ex-

                                  pansion, but of the increasing darkness and confinement.

 

Two small events occur that perhaps express yet deeper shadows creeping over their lives. As they move toward the restaurant where they plan to have dinner, they each pull in different directions, until the father calls them together to lead them off. They have become lost in their own hometown. A moment later, after the fairground buildings are washed in light, Tootie asks the crucial question: “They won’t ever tear it down, will they?” The grandfather blusteringly answers: “Well they better not!” The film’s weak ending, echoing Judy’s Garland’s phrase “There’s no place like home” from The Wizard of Oz, cannot possibly erase the doubts the two events have created. In reality, only two of St. Louis World’s Fair 1,500 buildings actually survived: the St. Louis Museum of Art and a building now on the campus of Washington University, Brookings Hall. The others, made of plaster of Paris and other cheap materials, were only meant to last a year or two. The same year’s summer Olympic Games would forever change the size and look of the city; St. Louis was no longer a small hometown.

    The era, of course, did quickly pass. Ten years later any younger male of this story would probably have been drafted into World War I. Those who returned came back to a different universe.

    As for Tootie? Sally Benson, upon whom she was based, never got to visit the St. Louis World’s Fair, her father having moved the family to New York City.

    Despite its glories, it was perhaps a society too based on myths, small lies, and impermanent values to survive.

 

Los Angeles, Christmas Day, 2010

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (January 2012).