Judy, Judy, Judy!

Today is Australian actress Judy Davis's birthday. For my money, there is no badder bad ass in movies today, though I suppose Helen Mirren comes pretty close. Her ability to be larger than life yet absolutely real at the exact same time always wins me over, even in terrible movies. Her fearlessness has led her to play a string of bitter wives and lovers, but also biopics of everyone from French writer George Sand to Judy Garland to Nancy Reagan. Almost every movie I see I wind up thinking, "that would have been better with Judy Davis."

Her alabaster skin and that pink/orange hue around her eyes that seems to suggest a terminal case of conjunctivitis may not be every man's idea of beauty, but I find her stunning.

I've dreamt about her twice that I can recall. The first time about two years ago. I was at some sort of religious retreat, feeling very awkward and out of place. Suddenly a young man in a leather jacket, the type that old fashioned square type movies might describe as a bad boy, walks up to me. He asks me if I want to go for a ride. We go out to his car and start making out. He stops mid kiss and says, "let's go to 7-11 and rent Judy Davis movies." I knew it was true love.

The second time I dreamt about her was about six months ago.

My sister and I are watching the evening news. We see a story about a movie that's being made about our family.

In shock but very excited, we rush to the movie set in Times Square. A theatre lobby has been converted temporarily into a casino for a scene. I see a woman who looks a lot like Judy Garland having a drink by a craps table, but she's just an extra. We are told that Judy Davis is playing our mother, which of course I think is fantastic.

Stepping outside into Shubert Alley, we find Miss Judy Davis walking through the crowd topless. I ask someone if this is part of the movie, but I'm told no, this is just how she relaxes in between scenes.