"The Wizard of Oz" (1939)

 

“Somewhere…the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.”  “Over the Rainbow”

“The Wizard of Oz” is not so much a movie as it is a ritual.  It is a cornerstone of the childhoods of millions. As such, it is nearly critic-proof, and almost impossible to look at it objectively today solely on its merits as a motion picture.

Having said that, when I am able to pull myself out of the spell it casts on me, I must say that “The Wizard of Oz” is a superior piece of movie craftsmanship.  It is beautifully photographed, terrifically designed, with sly humor and deep sentiment, awe-inspiring special effects, and such efficient storytelling  and direction that it goes by like a flash.  It is a rare cinematic classic: every single frame of this film is an iconic moment.

Made in 1939, which is considered to be the greatest year of the Hollywood renaissance, “The Wizard of Oz” was not an immediate success in theaters, competing with classics such as “Gone With the Wind”, “Stagecoach”, “Wuthering Heights” and “Goodbye, Mr. Chips” for the attention of moviegoers. 

It was not until the 1960s, when it began its annual broadcasts on network television, that it found a mass audience of kids of all ages, and became the beloved experience it is today, part of the fabric of American culture.

I remember “The Wizard of Oz” better than I do some parts of my childhood.  My earliest memories of it are all in black-and-white, when my sister and I sprawled on the floor in front of our family’s Zenith black-and-white console TV.  Once our family could afford to join the ranks of color-TV owners, I still recall my excitement, when I first discovered that the scenes in Kansas were the only ones in sepia tones, while the sequences in Oz were in gorgeous, fanciful hues!

Even though I have practically memorized the film, I still enjoy it, in the same way I enjoy a familiar meal, or a drive along a well-loved, well-traveled road.  I looked at the film again recently, in the spirit of nostalgia that brought me back to “Born Free” a couple of weeks ago.  It's filled with relevant messages, and  illustrates ways to live and stay true to our convictions in a world that the filmmakers could never have imagined in 1939.

I wanted to reconnect with that part of myself that has not completely disappeared, a product of a set of values and a point of view that the world once took for granted as right and good. Movies like “The Wizard of Oz” reinforced this world view in our young imaginations, during the powerful moment of childhood when we internalized things that became the code by which we lived our lives.

These things---virtues like kindness, caring, intellect, fair play, and conviction-- are now openly mocked in this time of pandemic uncertainty and political nightmare.  They seem to be in danger of disappearing altogether.

There may be those who are still unfamiliar with “The Wizard of Oz”, whose influence on our culture makes it the “Star Wars” of the pre-1970s era.  (The difference is that “Wizard of Oz” is respected as a work of popular cinematic art, without decades of “Oz” sequels, action figures or Fan Conventions, all the things spawned by "Star Wars", that make the Lucasfilm franchise  less like cinema, and more like an assembly line, or an amusement park.)

For those who are not familiar, “The Wizard of Oz” is the tale of Dorothy, a poor Kansas farmgirl who leads a seemingly dreary, neglected life with her Aunt Em and Uncle Henry.  Her only confidant is the feisty little terrier, Toto.  Dorothy dreams of escape to a beautiful, magical place over the rainbow, one that she heard of in a lullaby.  She sings of her yearning to Toto.  

When Toto is taken away by a cruel neighbor, Dorothy runs away after Toto escapes and comes back to her. She meets a kindly, absent-minded traveling showman who gently urges her not to leave home.  Just as she gets back, a tornado uproots Dorothy’s house, and before she can take shelter with her family, she and Toto are whisked away by the twister to that magical land over the rainbow. 

To get back home, Dorothy must follow the advice of a Good Witch, face her fear of the evil Wicked Witch, and travel to see the Great Wizard of Oz.  Along the way, she meets three amusing companions: a Scarecrow without a brain, a Tin Woodsman without a heart, and a Cowardly Lion. 

Together, with Toto always near, they make the dangerous adventure along the Yellow Brick Road to see the Wizard of Oz to ask him for the things they want most in the world.  On her journey, Dorothy learns some valuable lessons about her heart’s desire.

The movie is filled with color, energy, and magic, and creative creatures like munchkins, talking apple trees and flying monkeys. There are some truly terrifying moments, and lots of music and songs.  One of the songs, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", is an American standard.  It is impossible to believe that “Over the Rainbow”, one of the most beautiful songs ever written for a movie, was almost cut out of the film, because the studio felt it slowed it down.

This is Judy Garland’s best-loved role, the one for which she will always be remembered.  Her wistful rendition of “Over the Rainbow” hit me deeply, as I listened to it during the most uncertain and anxiety-producing time in my life.  Its beautiful melody and simple tone of longing help us to release our pent-up emotions, and give us a way to imagine our escape from an as-yet inescapable situation.

The song’s image of a trouble-free world of acceptance made it an anthem of gay men, who wanted a place to be themselves without fear.  Now, instead of feeding my sense of gay martyrdom, the number shakes me to my foundation, makes me sad for where we are now, and fuels my hope for a healthier, kinder future.

I don’t really need a place where troubles melt like lemon drops: I would be satisfied to return to that idyllic week four years ago, after the Chicago Cubs won the World Series, and before the last Presidential Election.  As crazy as the world might have seemed then, it was nothing compared to today.

(If only we had paid no attention to the man behind the curtain.  Maybe we can take that to heart this time.)

No movie has ever created a more intense and authentic-looking tornado sequence than “The Wizard of Oz”, even with Hollywood’s primitive tools for special effects in 1939.  The funnel cloud, the billowing dust, the creeping movement toward the house, the objects buffeted and flying up into the vortex, the freight-train like din of the howling wind, the suspense as Dorothy and Toto are in danger for their lives: this sequence has never been matched for its physical spectacle as well as its power to propel the narrative.   

It also feels like a metaphor for the unpredictable health danger now in the world's midst.

Was there ever a more frightening villain in American movies than the Wicked Witch of the West?  Actress Margaret Hamilton’s already unusual, sharp features are made up in a hellish green-and-red mask of pure malevolence, her bony fingers constantly probing as if toying with a victim like a spider. 

It is a physically and vocally demanding performance by Hamilton, in which she creates a character totally devoid of sentiment and empathy.  Like a virus.  Or a political figure gone haywire. She not only has a supreme power to destroy, but has no feeling other than shrill anger and contempt. She exists only to instill fear. 

It makes sense that such a strong presence in the film has to be destroyed at the climax.  My sister and I watched the movie as kids especially to see the famous scene where the Wicked Witch is doused with water and melts away.  As she cries in shock, sinking into the floor, she laments the end of her “beautiful wickedness”.  Today, those very words carry a lot of ironic weight.

I often say that animals, particularly dogs, will save our humanity.  Toto, who is ever-present and usually in the background, comes to the fore when Dorothy is imprisoned in the Witch’s castle, and becomes a hero.  The fact that Toto saves the day never surprised me, even as a child, and I reacted then (and now) with a silent cheer.  

Today, Toto seems to stand in for all of the dogs who have been companions during the virus, a presence in the background of the crisis who have extended themselves in friendship, who help us forget the trouble around the corner, and force us back in the moment.

What was once a society on the move, has been stopped in its tracks for months.  Dorothy has the ultimate travel experience to the most exotic of destinations.  Once she is safe back in Kansas, she realizes that everything she loves is right in her backyard, and that she would never need to look for happiness anywhere else.

“The Wizard of Oz” is like a cautionary tale for the travel industry.  Will we accept that we won’t travel again like before? Will we discover that we can’t be happier than we are at home?

We all sentimentalize our childhoods.  We romanticize our families and homes of origin, choosing to downplay the drudgery and even the pain of our earlier days.  Maybe that’s why I get so emotional at the end of “The Wizard of Oz”.  Just as Dorothy proclaims “there’s no place like home”, forgetting that she WAS ignored and her dog was imperiled before her long journey, I tend to remember the best parts of my growing up, and the things that I miss.

As a culture, trying to survive a pandemic with very little information, and having to let go of things we loved, before the disease made them unsafe or disappear altogether, we probably have a sentimental, romanticized image of what life was like before all of this happened, and we all yearn in our own way to escape to a place where we can all relax again.