Underwritten, overcooked

The writing is to blame, of course. Had Zellweger been given more to work with, her transformation into Hollywood icon Judy Garland would have been less one-note and more layered. As it is, she ends up taking a more-ismore approach; her face appears to be doing contortions even when she isn’t speaking.

And the less said about the grand musical number, the better. Director Rupert Goold’s film certainly pays attention to the costumes and makeup and all the surface detail, but one wishes it had explored with equal conviction the tragedy of Garland’s terribly short life.

Here’s a recap — she started her Hollywood career at 13, was among a generation of child stars who were drugged so they could keep working and then drugged so they would sleep as scheduled; developed a lifelong struggle with substance abuse; and died at 47, from an overdose.

Goold takes the most neutral route, in telling this story — it’s full of flashbacks and highlights her victimhood instead of celebrating her resilience.

Recontexualised as a postmetoo parable, it does admittedly feel relevant, even frighteningly urgent. Studio head Louis B Mayer’s creepy interactions with a teenage Garland call to mind the accounts of Harvey Weinstein’s alleged behaviour.

But it is a dry, disappointing telling. Garland was used and discarded by an industry that still gets away with far too much. The least her biopic could have done is acknowledge that.