"Hello, everybody. This is Mrs. Norman Maine."

For the past twenty minutes, I've been bawling my eyes out. I've seen 1954's A Star is Born a handful of times, but the ending never fails to tear me to pieces. Every time, I ask the screen "Please, can everything just work out this go-around?" and every time it doesn't happen. The sacrifice of James Mason's Norman Maine and the pain of Judy Garland's Esther Blodgett have been imprinted on my brain ever since my first viewing of the film almost a decade ago, yet each time I see it again, the heartbreak and the tears come as if I've never seen it before. A Star is Born has one of the richest and most complex production histories. That statement applies to both the 1954 film and the material in general (which we will once again see on the big screen next year!).

I don't want to talk about that, though. What I want to discuss is the beautiful, heart-stopping performance of Ms. Judy Garland. With the role of Esther, Judy was able to showcase all of the qualities that made her an unforgettable star: the crushing vulnerability, the delicious humor, the toughness that came out of necessity more than choice. She is at once the silly vaudevillian, the breathtaking actress, and the exquisite vocalist. With each scene, you think that she couldn't possibly get any better... and then she does.

There are many parallels to be found between A Star is Born and Judy. In her life, she embodied not only Esther, but Norman as well. Show business turned Frances Gumm, Esther Blodgett, and Ernest Gubbins into Judy Garland, Vicki Lester, and Norman Maine, entertainers who underwent enormous tragedies at the price of fame. Self-destructive and washed up, Norman is no longer the great star he used to be. Booze-filled nights appear to be the only thing that he has left to live for, until he finds a purpose again: helping Esther. With her dependency on pills, Judy became very similar to Norman. She would be unreliable and seemed to sabotage herself at every turn.

One of the most honestly real scenes in the film is when Esther is talking to friend and former boss Oliver Niles (Charles Bickford) about Norman's alcoholism. It is shattering to watch Esther crumble before our very eyes as she admits the hatred she feels towards her husband for failing to recover. You have to wonder if Judy felt the same way, if she hated herself for never quite getting better. After this gut-wrenching confession, Esther must go back on set and instantly jump back into an upbeat number. How many times did Judy have to push aside awful personal circumstances to give her audiences incredible performances?

Near the beginning of the narrative, Esther tells Norman "I somehow feel most alive when I'm singing." She struggles to explain just what singing means to her, but after witnessing her explosive performance of "The Man That Got Away," we understand that no words could ever quite describe it. For Esther and the woman playing her, singing isn't just an expression, it is an extension of the self. When you hear Judy, you're hearing her agony, her joy, and her sadness -- she was incapable of being anything other than authentic.

Growing up at MGM alongside such beauties as Elizabeth Taylor and Lana Turner made Judy's insecurities worse. She felt hideous and unlovable compared to them, yet no one else captured people's hearts like Judy did. The moment where Esther is made unrecognizable by the studio feels really poignant to me. After a few hours in the make-up chair, she doubts everything. Norman takes one look at her and immediately restores her back to the Esther we love, telling her "Your face is just dandy!" I like to imagine that this scene was retribution for Judy, that Norman was an audience surrogate assuring Judy that we adore her for exactly who she was.

While the whole film is magnificent, I must admit that my favorite scene is when Norman proposes to Esther. She is recording a song, but when the orchestra takes over, she rushes over to Norman, who has been watching her lovingly. We can't hear their conversation because the music is too loud, but when the song is played back, Norman and Esther are surprised to hear their voices -- a sound technician had pushed a microphone towards them!

I love watching Mason and Garland in this scene. They are so playful and cute together, making the loss all the more profound at film's end. Their recorded conversation is amazing, too, not because it's romantic, but because it shows that Esther recognizes Norman's faults. She isn't exactly a wide-eyed innocent, so when she accepts his proposal, she is demonstrating a leap of faith. It's such a well-executed scene. You can admire it here.

After Norman's suicide, Esther isolates herself. The confrontation between her and her friend Danny (Tommy Noonan) is difficult to watch. She wants to hold onto her grief the way Norman held onto the bottle, but Danny refuses to let her. The one thing Norman was proud of was his wife and her career. If she didn't go on, she would be disrespecting that. Realizing that Danny is right, Esther goes to a benefit she had committed to, the same benefit where she had met Norman. The memories of the place are almost too much for her, but when she takes to the stage, we know Esther will be okay. She will be a survivor. In the end, I think Judy was, too.

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This is my first contribution to the Judy Garland Blogathon. Celebrate the brilliant woman by checking out the other entries here.