1944 ‘St. Louis’ Is Timelier Than Ever

“Meet Me in St. Louis,” with its Technicolor gloriously restored, screened over the weekend at the County Museum of Art as part of the Vincente Minnelli retrospective. If you missed it, you have another chance to see it at the Monica 4-Plex, where it opens a one-week run Friday. The 1944 film is an authentic American classic, timeless in its enchantment and poignancy.

Like many World War II Hollywood movies, it offers a powerfully nostalgic vision of a reassuringly secure, gaslit, turn-of-the-century era when men were men and women were women and the family was a rock-solid institution. Yet whereas many such movies were merely sentimental--just think of all those sugary Fox period pieces--”Meet Me in St. Louis” dares to suggest a dark side to our notion of the ordered existence of a more serene time.

As an institution, the family is put to the test in “Meet Me in St. Louis”; it comes through intact, but not without experiencing collective unhappiness. Minnelli succeeded in bringing depth and dimension to Louis B. Mayer’s idealized American family, at that time epitomized by the cloying Andy Hardy series. (To get the muted look to the film’s rich hues, Minnelli had to fight Technicolor’s formidable Natalie Kalmus all the way; so did Rouben Mamoulian on “Becky Sharp.”)

What the passage of time has made clear, beyond the film’s wonderful songs, settings and costumes, is that it is first of all a triumph of structure. In adapting Sally Benson’s autobiographical New Yorker short stories, writers Irving Brecher and Fred E. Finklehoffe imposed a change-of-seasons--summer, fall, winter and spring--structure upon them. This reflects the Smith family’s changes of mood as the 1904 St. Louis Exposition draws near--by which time, if all goes according to plan, the Smiths are to be living in New York instead of enjoying the long-awaited World’s Fair. In turn, the film’s songs are integrated into the action in a natural manner that was innovative on the screen at the time.

The Smiths live in a Second Empire Victorian, which we would call a mansion but by the standards of the time was more likely to be regarded as a large family residence. After all, the Smiths (Mary Astor, Leon Ames) have four daughters (Lucille Bremer, Judy Garland, Joan Carroll, Margaret O’Brien), and Mr. Smith’s father (sweet, gallant old Harry Davenport) makes his home with them. Significantly, they do not regard themselves as rich folks--never mind that their elaborate furnishings are today antiques worth a fortune--but as “comfortable.” The cook, their key servant, is played by a shrewd, vinegary but warm-hearted Marjorie Main.

“The Trolley Song,” “The Boy Next Door” and “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” have become standards, and for all their ‘40s sound, are deftly interwoven with such actual period pieces as “Under the Banyan Tree” (delightfully performed by Garland and O’Brien in a party sequence) and the classic title tune. Never before had Garland’s protean talents as an actress as well as a singer had such a chance to shine so radiantly; never had she looked so pretty. The film marked the beginning of Minnelli and Garland’s comparatively brief but richly rewarding personal and professional relationship.

“Meet Me in St. Louis” is timeless in what it reveals about families and children. The celebrated Halloween sequence, in which O’Brien is astonishing in her depiction of a child displaying bravery in the face of fear, suggests that even the happiest of childhoods are not free of scary moments.

The Smiths thrive because they are bound by respect as well as love and by a genuine spirit of unselfishness. If anything, Mr. Smith’s decision--Mrs. Smith would have a greater say today--whether to uproot his family, so happily ensconced in St. Louis, or whether to go for the bigger opportunity that has just been offered him in New York, is timelier than ever.

In a country where moving constantly for the sake of career advancement is a frequently unquestioned given, “Meet Me in St. Louis” may give you unexpected cause for reflection.

For show times: (213) 394-9741.

Tonight’s Filmforum presentation at LACE at 8 p.m. is called “The Last Picture Show.” It marks the resignation of Albert Kilchesty, its venturesome and knowledgeable program director since 1985. This time, however, the evening’s short films have been selected by members of the Filmforum audience. Information: (213) 276-7452, (714) 923-2441.