by Pierre de Plume
The first time a movie made me cry was in 1957 when I was 6 years old. I remember like yesterday sitting in the kid-sized rocking chair that my dad, whose hobby was carpentry, had built of oak for our Midwestern home. Because my first emotional reactions to the film remain vivid in my memory, I decided recently to take advantage of a rare 35mm Technicolor screening of “The Wizard of Oz” at a lovingly restored movie venue, the Heights Theater near Minneapolis. There, I thought, I might revisit the experience of seeing Oz as a child and report back to readers at Wonders in the Dark about why this Depression-era musical fantasy has continued to capture the hearts of so many children — young and old alike.
What I encountered on the night of the screening was a sold-out crowd of diverse ages, from parents with eager children to gray-haired elders. A patron sitting next to us in the 400-seat Beaux Arts–style theater, a thirtysomething woman waiting for her special date, soon was joined by her salt-and-pepper-haired dad. Under the glow of the grand chandeliers, we waited as the Wurlitzer pipe organist played songs from the movie we soon would relive.
My experience of seeing Oz on the big screen — in 35mm Technicolor for the first time — left me not just in tears (again) but also wishing to know more about the literary origins of Dorothy Gale’s fantastic odyssey.
The “First American Fairy Tale.” L. Frank Baum, previously a writer of children’s verse (e.g., Father Goose: The Book), wrote The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,< his first attempt at prose. Published in 1900, Baum’s novel featured numerous color plates of illustrations by Baum’s collaborator, W. W. Denslow. The tale of Dorothy, a Kansas farm girl swept up by a cyclone to a magical, distant world, was the first to abandon the existing tradition of European fairy tales that featured princes, princesses, medieval morality and children being eaten. The book quickly became hugely successful and ignited demand for what became 13 sequels. Their popularity became more modest but publication continued until 1919, the year of Baum’s death.
The first full-length film adaptation of Oz occurred in 1910 and was based on the popular 1902 musical stage production. In 1925, a nonmusical film version was produced featuring silent film comedian Oliver Hardy as the Tin Man. After the success in 1937 of Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, executives at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer reportedly recognized potential in fantasy films for children. MGM quickly launched plans for a lavish musical even before sale of the property, originally considered as a vehicle for singer Eddie Cantor as the Scarecrow, became final.
Comparison of themes from page to screen. The film’s central message remains faithful to its source. For example, Dorothy’s line, “There’s no place like home,” was lifted straight from Baum’s book. In his afterword to the 100th anniversary edition, Peter Glassman writes, “People seem to have a need to belong somewhere, to have someplace to call home. And, inevitably, when taken from that home, they find no matter how wonderful or fantastic their surroundings, they miss their home.” This theme also is consistent with the wishes and dreams of the three secondary protagonists, the Scarecrow, Tin Man and Cowardly Lion, each of whom yearns for the quantity he believes is lacking: brains, a heart and courage, respectively.
Evolution of the 1939 screenplay: Two individuals at MGM, Arthur Freed and Roger Edens, are commonly identified as the guiding creative force behind Oz although neither received onscreen credit. Freed, who headed a musical production unit at MGM, hired composer/arranger Edens from the Broadway stage and together they collaborated on all phases of the project.
The screenplay underwent numerous incarnations by at least a dozen writers, including Ogden Nash, whose 4-page treatment was shelved. Noel Langley wrote a version considered to be the basis of the shooting script. Langley also is credited for the idea of transforming all Oz sequences, which in the book were depicted as reality, into an extended dream sequence while Dorothy lies in bed unconscious. Florence Ryerson and Edgar Allan Woolf revised Langley’s version, adding the character of Professor Marvel. After filming began, the script received further revision by director Fleming, with actors Jack Haley and Bert Lahr writing some of their dialogue for the Kansas sequences. The film’s lyricist, Yip Harburg, also wrote lead-in dialogue to the songs.
Thematic differences between the film and book: Although the screenwriters made several alterations to Baum’s story, the resulting film is considered to be faithful to its source. Aside from the story’s adaptation as a musical, the most significant change involves tone. The book is a lighter, more fanciful tale in which a sweet 6-year-old orphan on a drab Midwestern plain is suddenly swept by a cyclone to a magical land of adventure and peril. Baum’s Dorothy doesn’t pine for a distant dreamland nor does Toto get apprehended for euthanization. In fact, wealthy landowner Almira Gulch, Professor Marvel and the 3 farmhands simply don’t exist in Baum’s tale.
Indeed, Baum’s Scarecrow, Tin Woodman and Cowardly Lion want their brains, heart and courage. In the film, however, the nature of these qualities is more simply and exaggeratedly expressed, resulting in characters of lesser dimension and complexity. Baum’s Scarecrow, for example, may not have brains but he can still think in some ways. Similarly, the Tin Woodman, who once had a heart but lost it in a tragic accident, takes special care toward others so as not to hurt them. And the Cowardly Lion knows he scares most everyone — it’s just that he doesn’t want to kill them.
In contrast to Baum’s world of turn-of-the-century optimism, confidence and expansionist notions of invincibility, the Kansas familiar to Depression-era audiences is one of drought, poverty and apprehension over Nazism and impending war. The Dorothy of Oz is more mature, feels neglected and alienated, and longs for a world that is more comforting and fair. Unfortunately, the land she discovers “over the rainbow” turns out to be not only toxic, but downright scary and potentially lethal.
The Cultural Significance of Oz. The Wizard of Oz has achieved the status of quite possibly the most popular film of all time. A recent study at Illinois Northwestern University concluded the film to be the most influential and culturally significant film ever made. The National Film Registry in its inaugural year cited the film as “culturally, historically and aesthetically significant.” According to the Library of Congress, The Wizard of Oz is the most-viewed movie on television. The film’s Oscar-winning ballad, “Over the Rainbow,” occupies 1st place in the American Film Institute’s list of “100 Years . . . 100 Songs.”
After more than 75 years, The Wizard of Oz — as well as the lore emanating from it — has become so omnipresent in the English-speaking consciousness that the film’s images, lines of dialogue, and character names have become metaphors that communicate in immediately recognizable cultural shorthand. Writer Salman Rushdie has suggested that the film remains successful because it embodies some of our most enduring values. Writer Ilan Shrira in “Psychology Today” suggests the film’s themes and ideas involve power, powerlessness, the inadequacy of adults, and the relationship between power and gender. He goes on to suggest that the message from Glinda, the Good Witch, represents an individualistic or existential view when she tells Dorothy that she’s had the power to return home all along, she just didn’t know it. “The film is affirming that you have the ability to get what you want and that this power comes from within. We never get tired of hearing that we control our own outcomes — it empowers us and instills us with hope.”
Whatever the analysis, the film’s everlasting iconography ultimately relies on the emotional connection it triggers within ourselves. Taken as a whole, The Wizard of Oz channels an optimism. When we find that this optimism gets shaken, seeing the film again will help restore it.
Further Reading:
TIME magazine 5-part series marking 75th anniversary:
How they created the tornado, including clips:
http://americablog.com/2013/05/how-they-created-the-tornado-in-the-wizard-of-oz-video.html
Mystery of the Ruby Slippers:
http://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2015/07/million-dollar-reward-stolen-ruby-slippers
The Heights Theater:
What a splendid essay, Pierre — as good as anything I’ve seen about this movie.
At the same time, I have to confess I’m a tad confused as to what the movie tells us about childhood unless, I suppose, we think of the childish dream/fantastication as being at the core of it all.
But that’s an aside. As I say, you’ve produced a tremendous piece of work. Many thanks from A Reader.
Thanks! This is a film that was made, in the wake of Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, to appeal primarily to children. To my way of thinking, the story addresses issues children face: subjection to the power of adults even when things may seem unfair, the neglect and alienation children feel when adults are too busy to make them feel like the center of attention, dreams of places that are better than their environment, and acknowledgment and acceptance of surroundings and environment that aren’t altogether pleasing. All of these are about the difficult process of becoming aware of and growing up in a world that isn’t nearly as nice as it was when we were bouncy toddlers without a care in the world. I suspect the scariness of the film reflects the time it was made — the end of a long, arduous economic depression and the uncertainty and apprehension coming from the notion of evil, embodied in the rise of Nazism and Hitler.
Bravo to that Pierre!
Thanks for reading my comment, Pierre. You make a case that I hadn’t particularly thought of, and the selection of the movie for this countdown now makes a bit more sense. On the other hand, one could make a similar case for all the other tales in which children are somehow transported to a magical otherworld: Alice in Wonderland, the Narnia books, Tom’s Midnight Garden, Winsor McCay’s Little Nemo strips, etc. Aside from Svankmejer’s Alice and arguably Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland (1989), that particular quartet hasn’t exactly spawned much by way of great feature movies. But the analogous theme of children in unhappy circumstances being introduced to our world’s (as it were) magical superstructure has been well represented in the movies by such offerings as Mary Poppins and (although I know that not all agree with me here) Bedknobs and Broomsticks. Inkheart falls somewhere between the two modes.
Sorry: I’m just sort of thinking out loud here. Your reply has sparked off a few interesting trains of thought in me, trains that, alas, I won’t be able properly to pursue until tonight, whenever I knock off from the editorial job I should be doing right now rather than prattle on WitD!
Yes, realthog, I think you can keep stretching this type of thought for quite some time, until, I ‘d think, you’d stretched yourself into a corner. The movies are famously called projections of dreams and fantasy fulfillment and if our ego/ID dream states are formed when we first experience sensations and impressions as children you could then make that argument for virtually every film ever made, specifically ones with a fantasy/surreal bent. It’d seem absurd if you attempted to put something like David Lynch’s ERASERHEAD into a Childhood countdown, but that film is filled with imagery from such early permeations. That its content is so much about having a child (and the pressures therein), I’d love to see someone ironically try though!
I really think people are confusing this films content with their early experience of it. The comment thread here bears me out, pretty much all the admirers are lamenting the time in their life when they first saw it (Sam compares it to the JFK assassination cultural ‘where were you’) and that their child mind greatly enhanced the pleasure experience (which they then return to in their mind every time they screen it). You can’t swap content or theme for sensibility though, and my love for BUCKAROO BANZAI and especially BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA as a youth doesn’t make those films applicable in this countdown either.
I really think people are confusing this films content with their early experience of it. The comment thread here bears me out, pretty much all the admirers are lamenting the time in their life when they first saw it. . . .
I can speak only for myself, Jamie. Indeed, watching the movie as a child has been a cultural tradition for generations, and for sure adults — including Sam and I — wistfully recall their childhood experiences with the film. The questions, though, are many: How can a film be that powerful into adulthood? And why Oz and not another film? I for one have rewatched the film at various points in my adulthood, each time seeing it a little differently as my life to that point encompasses more life experience. I see messages and meaning that I hadn’t recognized before. I enjoy dialogue or some other aspect that I wouldn’t have understood as a child. These are among the reasons why I believe this film belongs on a list of the greatest childhood films. Great doesn’t necessarily mean the best written, the best directed, the most seamless editing, the best cinematic craft or the most sophisticated whatever. This is how some of the best films aren’t necessarily the best made.
realthog, thanks again. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen any of those films you mention. What I can say about Oz,, though, is that the film offers a contrast between the two worlds that Dorothy inhabits. Doing so adds to the meaning of it all. It’s not just a fantastical journey. The journey has a point, especially when seen in contrast to the opening and closing sequences.
Fantastic stuff Pierre….and coming from all sorts of angles. I have argued at length at this site in favor of this film, and do not intend to get into that today hopefully. I think your initial lead-in is very telling, with the wide range of ages that this film appeals to…..that’s a unique aspect that this film has going for it and is something that is not likely to ever change. Bravo Pierre.
Thank you, Jon. I’m going to address your points below, in reply to Sam’s comment, because he goes into detail about some of these issues. 🙂
The only people who question this film’s message and artistry are hopeless cynics and/or those who resent the film’s overwhelming popularity. In a thrust to save the world from the film’s earthy optimism and feel-good glow (I know that’s such a bad thing isn’t it?!) they cry foul, conveniently forgetting that the film is a fantasy through and through. I can count on my hands how many I’ve met in my life who have stood behind the eight ball, but we must acknowledge the tiny minority, especially in advance of any indignation.
I myself wrote a marathon review of this film for the musical countdown, and the comment section attracted over 250 submissions. By a landslide the film was spoken of with unbridled veneration, but a few chose to go in the other direction. Yes it is an American institution, and is probably as Pierre contends the most beloved film ever made. At Wonders in the Dark the film was voted Greatest Film of the 1930’s in that decade’s countdown, it finished #2 behind SINGIN IN THE RAIN in the Greatest Musicals countdown, and it has been the recipient of more posts than any other film with six.
It is arguably the most famous film ever made in this country. It was based on one of the most venerated children’s stories ever written. It launched the career of the greatest female thespian to ever appear in a musical film, and it remains the one film she is most reverentially identified with. The movie’s celebrated score is woven into our popular culture, and it’s unforgettable screenplay has produced lines of dialogue that are ingrained into the consciousness of anyone and everyone who has watched the film countless times, and have come to value it’s themes of home, family and friendship as cinematically conclusive. The film’s most coveted song is probably the most popular number ever written during the twentieth century, and has been covered time and again by renowned artists. The story of it’s changing directors and cast auditions remain as fascinating to movie lovers as anything else about the film, and more has been written on the making of the picture than any other in history. The story of the little people who appear early in the film in one of it’s most celebrated sequences, remains a stand alone curiosity for many to this very day, with the old age passings of this unique fraternity a major news item. Every supporting member of the film’s distinguished cast will eternally be remembered firstly for the role they played in this film, even with exceptional careers to their credit. No film has been more referenced in other movies, and the final black-and-white sequence set in the bedroom of a Kansas farmhouse may well be the most emotionally moving scene in the history of American cinema. With the advent of home video in the late 70’s the film became an incomparable favorite, and to this day has been released more often on the many video formats up to a recently-released blu-ray box set. The smash Broadway hit Wicked is hugely indebted to the 1939 film. While it has come to represent homespun family values and the most vivid realization of one’s dreams, The Wizard of Oz is imbued with humor and humanity, two qualities that more than any other have contributed to it’s enduring, even spectacular appeal over decades all around the world. Much like the assassination of John F. Kennedy and the day astronauts first stepped foot on the moon, many Americans will never forget the day, the month and the year they first remembered watching the film, and in whose company they were with. Just two years ago, the seventieth anniversary of the film’s opening was celebrated to national fan-fare, with the original city of it’s first appearance being honored – Oconomwoc, Wisconsin.
Like Pierre it was television that first hooked me on the film, and the bi-annual showings during holidays had me wishing many of my days and weeks away. To be sure no other film captured my imagination in quite the same way.
Pierre de Plume, resident OZ aficionado extraordinaire has brought new light upon the film, craftily traveling that yellow brick road with all kinds of insights, revelations, and added appreciation. This timeless journey, infused with the deepest emotions, love for family and friendship has the staying power of a lifetime. This is one American classic that has never violated the trust.
The munchkins, in that great place in the sky are now deliberating on a song to you Pierre, as today you have them celebrating! They have already inducted you into their “Hall of Fame.” 🙂
I’m not a hopeless cynic, but thanks for the characterization. Unless you meant The Cynics, which I’ve be fine with (don’t take the track’s title as mere coincidence…).
hahahaha Jamie!! Be rest assured I did mean The Cynics, whom you’ve graciously posted here. 🙂 This is quite a stylish video here!
This film itself is actually highly cynical, especially when one considers the original source materials intent (which the above essay only tackles in theory). Most glaringly seen as a political parable on populism and political strife inherently built into American Society, the land Oz was therefor seen as a wonderful Utopia, but alas still a very real one. It was actually visited in the book, which is an important point to make, while the film renders OZ as pure make believe, only existing in the dream of a young adult girl (who did this make childhood films again?). This purposeful altering has cynical political ramifications, and when rendering with such a commercial tone, by right wing director Fleming* (a man often called a staunch anti-Semite and, worse still, pro-Nazi [there isn’t enough proof on this later claim for me to wholly believe it, but the first one seems true enough] Plus, he did also birth the romantic version of the antebellum South and its white ruling class that was the steaming turd Gone With the Wind) it’s more than OK to feel strangely odd and stopping short to fully endorse the films passive message.
I’ve recently come into seeing the Doctor Seuss film The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T as something of an applicable alternate to The Wizard of Oz. Most would immediately offer bluster, as it’s certainly not as iconic, but it’s more responsible politically and it’s very timely here—it’s an actual film about Childhood. That film isn’t about succumbing to the doldrums and accepting the lie, but rather full on destructive revolution (it’s again timely here what with the Vigo film coming just days prior) and having a worthwhile family optimistically constructed in its aftermath. The film moves upward and onward into infinity (what is the ending of a film other than a projection into the real and imagined future of those involved?) while the Kansas in Wizard of Oz is no different than the one from the films beginning that imbued life with a depressed, dark, sepia laden minutia. Plus, 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T is a very enjoyable film on a purely entertainment level; every bit the joyous excursion a popcorn film should be.
While I’ve been hyperbolically characterized in this thread, there is still a bit to love in Fleming’s film and my feelings (and many like me) are therefor nuanced. The portrayal of the Wicked Witch of the West, most famously, is terrific and still fresh irregardless of many of the fans of the film trying to strangle the life from it in endless DVD re-editions or by placing it on an unreachable pedestal. Same for all her wild flying monkeys in matching disco sequins, there isn’t any boorish admirer of this work that can take their manic energy from ‘em. If only I could have seen them get their prize as a frenzied monkey attack would have been transcendent!
*I try to let Fleming off the hook a little given the films varied production history and multitude of directors and writers brought in over the period of the films creation.
This film itself is actually highly cynical, especially when one considers the original source materials intent (which the above essay only tackles in theory).
Jamie, I’m not sure I follow you on that one. I can see that the film may portray a cynicism that existed in society, especially society of the 1930s, but to refer to the “voice” of the film as cynical runs counter to the optimism I think is central to the film’s message. Optimism, to me, involves realistic acceptance, including negativity, of one’s environment combined with tangible hope for the future. Optimism involves the ability to experience happiness despite the challenges, barriers and tragedies that always have been part of human existence. It’s not so “accepting the lie” but acknowledging that lies indeed exist.
Your characterization of director Fleming as right-wing, anti-Semite and possibly even pro-Nazi is something I can’t address with real authority as I don’t know a whole lot about him. From what I’ve read he was regarded as a “man’s man,” assert, good-looking and masculine as judged by the time and culture he lived in, and a “get-it-done” sort of guy capable of handling big projects. I’m aware that actress Anne Revere said he was pro-Nazi, but this report may be taken out of context, exaggerated and overemphasized in an era when we know much more about Nazism than was known during the 1930s. Besides, Revere was clearly mad because she was passed over by him for a role. Maybe she was comparing him in a way comparable to the “Soup Nazi” on Seinfeld. I just don’t know. Fleming reportedly slapped Judy Garland when she couldn’t stop laughing during a scene. Back then, something like that was considered acceptable, even by a nonparent, in school surroundings or on the job in an adult environment. Today is a different story.
I’ve seen The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T and found it enjoyable, even kitsch. But I don’t recall it well enough to understand how it might be considered more politically appropriate than Oz.
Jamie, I was all ready to jump in on behalf of Victor Fleming, who really was nothing but a paid orchestrator for a film that rests squarely on Baum’s source material, the score by Arlen and Yarburg, the performers, the Munchkin brigade and the production values from a studio at its peek. In a sense we might be able to assert that he had as much to do with the film in a creative vein as some of Val Lewton’s directors did. Of course on the other side of the coin it is almost impossible to believe he was involved with this film the same year as he helmed GONE WITH THE WIND, another film owes far less to him than the celebrated production.
But I see you dealt with Fleming again accurately right at the end there. 🙂
Val Lewton gets too much credit at times for the RKO horror stuff. One of his directors was a brilliant filmmaker who proved his mettle long after he left his producers side.
My comment is a bit vague. Lewton was clearly the driving force in getting those pictures made, and made in a way that still holds up. But his choice in directors was perhaps his best decision of all. Val Lewton or not, if some of those anonymous hack directors of the Universal 40’s films were given the reins, we would probably not be talking about Cat People, The Seventh Victim, or I Walked With A Zombie 70 years later.
Yeah, one of the tasks of a great producer—which Lewton certainly was (and he grows in my eyes with each revisit of his I do)—is to attach a director whose sensibilities match the script. Tourneur, Robson, et al, where great directors and supreme stylists.
And I was vague in that I didn’t finish the thought. Add this, “… but the one common thread in all those films is one man. Mr. Val Lewton. Plus, if you can ever find the Western he produced, Apache Drums you’ll see that his considerable talents went beyond genre (even if that film uses scares and terror as it’s driving force).”
I agree with Jamie here. Lewton deserved most of the credit as he was the abiding inspiration for all the great literary and metaphorical devises in the films, and each film bore his trademark and qualities. Yes, Tourneur is a supreme master, but after CAT PEOPLE and I WALKED WITH A ZOMBIE (the greatest Lewton film, and the most poetic) he did the uneven but still worthwhile THE LEOPARD MAN. I have been watching the films again the last few weeks!! Talk about coincidence. 🙂
Sam, I’ll get back later to address your wonderful comment. Thanks so much for all your support and encouragement.
This is a very great review of this beloved film. I’ve stated my case on it many times, and like so many others it meant a lot to me growing up. Nothing has changed so many years later. It has earned the love and reputation it still enjoys today.
Thanks, Frank. It’s true that some people succumb to the temptation to chip away at any phenomenon that enjoys widespread popularity. I could speculate about why, but I think the reasons vary. If there’s going to be any ongoing discussion on this, it might be appropriate for Sam’s thread (above), which I’ll comment on later. 🙂
It’s a wonderful film, deep and smart and influential in a dozen ways, and this is an essay to match. Very nice indeed.
I appreciate your comment, Weepingsam. The word “deep” from your comment jumped out at me. When I was a college-age teen during the psychedlic anti-Vietnam war years, it seems this film enjoyed new popularity among my peers. First, the lavish, fantastical imagery appealed to so-called stoners. More importantly, though, I think the film was viewed as an existential message that paralleled the inner searching inspired by the Beatles’ spiritual search (e.g., Maharishi Mahesh Yogi), Timothy Leary (LSD), and filmmakers such as Michelangelo Antonioni and Ingmar Bergman.
“I’ll get you my pretty, and your little dog too!” Imagine a song that was almost never heard, a star that was almost never born, a wicket witch who may have only be an evil bitch have entered into our almost daily lives and culture, a true American fairy tale, I never even considered that, that is as endearing and enchanting today as it was upon it’s release! Brilliant. A true classic.
Pierre, you have captured the many streams of consciousness and rivers this film flows to and from brilliantly and creatively. There are backstories here I have not read before, many I have come across in the following of Judy Garland, and classic films, each piece as depth and understand to the film and its magic. Thank you so much!
Sam you need not defend this film but I understand why and you have done so wonderfully thanks for the added commentary.
Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
And the dreams that you dreamed of
Once in a lullaby
The lullaby is in the comfort and joy this film has offer many generations of viewers.
You’re welcomed, jeffstroud. I could have written a book about this film but had to stop myself. So much has been said already, and I figured that many people at this site already know much of the trivia out there — it certainly isn’t hard to find if you know how to use Google. An older friend of mine, who happens to be the daughter of the distinguished cinematographer and director Karl Freund (e.g., The Good Earth, The Mummy, I Love Lucy), was a childhood friend of Judy Garland during the time leading up the filming of Oz. Gerda (that’s my friend’s name) has mentioned that Garland was just a really sweet kid and that she felt sorry for Garland because, even at her birthday party, her handlers allowed pictures of her with the birthday cake but wouldn’t let her eat any of it for fear of weight gain. When Garland’s father died in the mid-1930s, I think her mother had too much bad influence and that she allowed studio personnel to wield too much power over her in favor of career and profit.
I also am readily able to recollect my childhood affection fro the film, yet after seeing it in a theater a few years ago, it seemed fresh and relatable from an adult perspective. There can be cases made against anything, and so much can be read into it (whether these are there are not) but after all is said and done the dream is a beautiful and a lasting one. This was a wonderful review by Pierre.
Thank you, Celeste! And you’re so right about enjoying a film as a child and then seeing it much later from an adult perspective. You’re also right about the ability to make cases against anything. It should be noted that Oz opened in 1939 to many good review, but not all of them were positive. It may have been jarring for reviewers to see a live-action fantasy when such a thing was uncommon. Disney cartoons was one thing, Oz quite another.
Pierre, I did read about those poor reviews at the film’s opening. I know there are many examples where bad reviews were followed up by universal acclaim.
Certainly there has been universal acclaim that has grown over the years, but as you can see by this thread of comments, the level of artistry of the piece still is questioned by some despite its sentimental appeal. 🙂
Pierre, I truly enjoyed reading your review. You have captured the heart and soul of the film beautifully. The production details added a great feel to the review. I am a major fan of “The Wizard” myself and I have so many fond memories of watching this film growing up.
I myself was introduced to this film during the Easter season as a young child. I have memories of watching it at my grandparents house and hiding behind the couch from the wicked witch, especially during the close up in the crystal ball. I viewed it on back and white televisions mostly, so when a neighborhood friend told me that it changed to color and that the wicked witch was green, I was truly amazed. I did not see it in color until I was about 13 or 14 years old.
I shared my love for the film with my children and have owned it on every format available, now owning it on glorious blu-ray. The summer after my daughter, Melanie, turned 2 years old she made me put it on 2-3 times a day. The whole family loves the film and on occasion I will hear one of the boys say, “get out of the way before I make a dime bank out of you”.
One of my all-time favorite scenes is when the four principals finally get to see the wizard. The Cowardly Lion (my favorite character) is so afraid it is hysterical. He holds onto his tail as they approach the wizard and delivers some of the funniest lines of the film. Dorothy, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man all encourage him to move forward. He moans. Scarecrow says,,”What happened?” The Lion says, “Somebody pulled my tail.” and the Scarecrow replies, “You did it yourself!” These are the best lines in the scene!!
Thanks for a great review and bringing back wonderful memories!
Lucille, your comment here is so vivid and enjoyable. 🙂 I, too, love the Cowardly Lion and feel his portrayal was richer than those of the Scarecrow, Tin Man and Wizard although Frank Morgan did have some good moments as Professor Marvel and the exposed humbug Wizard.
Lahr really camped it up for his role and seemed to love doing it. The script itself (or at least the lyrics) rather “sissified” him as, for example, he describes himself as a “dandy lion.” But there are other references that refer not just to his perceived cowardice but also how that era defined manliness. Your mentions of the lion’s tail and the dime bank are two things that jumped out at me, as well, when I again saw the film just a couple of weeks ago. 🙂
I’ll keep it short and sweet. I love the flying monkeys. Good job Pierre.
Thanks, Maurizio. Them monkeys still scare the beejesus outta me. In the book, by the way, they became Dorothy’s helpers.
If Wizard of Oz was trying to evoke Snow White & the Seven Dwarfs then Bedknobs & Broomsticks was trying to be Oliver! just a thought there. Had Wizard of Oz come out in the late 60s it probably would have been a Best Picture winner (Oliver! pretty much did just that and that was often compared to Oz)