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Rarely has 75 minutes feel so interminable as it does during Listen, Darling. The plot is a bit of nonsense that plays like the lamest of sitcom conceits: two siblings (Judy Garland and Scotty Beckett) enlist their best friend (Freddie Bartholomew) to help kidnap their mom (Mary Astor) so she doesn’t enter a loveless marriage. Ha ha ha….
You can guess what follows – a proper bachelor that the kids like and the mom finds reminds her of her dead husband (Walter Pidgeon), a couple musical interludes by Garland (“Zing! Went the Strings of My Heart” in a minor reading is the obvious highlight), and groan-inducing child actor performances abound. Bartholomew was nearing the end of his time as a movie star, and I never quite got his appeal. He seems so grossly artificial next to Garland, and just plain awkward next to Pidgeon and Astor.
Listen, Darling winds up restoring heteronormative order by letting the kooky bachelor and merry widow wind up together with the kids’ approval. Astor and Garland would reunite in six years for a much better project, Pidgeon would go on to make far better films, and this whole thing feels like it was made merely to keep these rising stars (or transitioning ones) in the public consciousness. 1939 would treat Garland’s immeasurable talents far better with a pair of classics that gave her sterling material.
