Did you know that there have been more then 20 filmed versions of The Wizard of Oz? That doesn't include numerous television versions. But when I say The Wizard of Oz, I'm sure you immediately think of the 1939 MGM musical. It's a cinematic icon; a true classic that has appealed to generations of viewers. I believe it is, quite simply, the greatest movie ever made. I'll try to explain why.
L Frank Baum (1856-1919) was already a well-know writer of children's stories when he wrote The Wonderful Wizard of Oz a century ago. The book, a fairy tale of a young girl's adventures in a magical land, was a runaway success and resulted in seventeen sequels.
Baum's book is the work of a brilliant imagination, and his land of Oz is as detailed and well-realised as any literary creation. But his book was aimed at children. As such, it is thematically and stylistically simple. At its heart it is a simple, black-and-white, linear fantasy quest; a basic formula used countless times before and since.
The MGM movie actually differs from the book in several key areas. And while I don't want to take anything away from Baum's marvellous imagination, the movie far surpasses it in sophistication. For where Baum writes for the simplistic world-view of a child, the movie aims itself squarely at an adult audience. Yet it does this without forgetting that it's a children's fairy tale, and it satisfies both audiences.
The music and songs in the movie are in the style of popular music of the 1930s. But the movie presents that music in an exciting, colourful manner that captivates a child. Music changes with each new generation. But a child's appreciation of colourful song-and-dance extravaganzas will never go away. And that is why The Wizard of Oz's music is truly timeless. It hooks you when you are four years old, long before the fads of the day make their impression on you, and it stays with you all your life until you, in your turn, introduce your own children to it.
The special effects were, for their day, breathtaking. They have talking trees, flying monkeys, and walking scarecrows. They have giant heads, crystal balls and fireballs. They actually lift up a house, twirl it through the air, and have boats, bicycles, and witches fly past it. And all this in 1939; long before CGI, before ILM, even before the pioneering work of Ray Harryhausen and Jim Hensen. To a child, it is magic. Even now, to an adult, it's real. I can only imagine the impact it had on the audiences of 1939.
And, talking of impact: the movie contains possibly the greatest single moment artistic genius ever put onto film. Dorothy's world of Kansas is dull, grey, monotonous. The first few minutes of the movie are filmed in black and white (actually Sepiatone). She arrives in Oz. She opens the door of the house . . . and it's colourful. First the tiny square of the doorway. Then, as she steps out, the world explodes into a, well, rainbow of glorious, unreal, Technicolor. It's a catch-your-breath moment. It's a moment of magic. What other imagery could so vividly say that you are now somewhere different, away from the Depression and the War and the drudgery of life? Somewhere better. Somewhere over the rainbow.
The first change that readers of the book will notice in the movie is that nine-year-old Dorothy Gale has matured into 17-year-old Judy Garland. Child actors with the ability to convincingly carry a major role are few and far between, so the change was perhaps a practical necessity. As Garland was probably the most beautiful woman in the world in 1939, certainly possessed the finest singing voice, and was already a recognised name, this undoubtedly helped the movie's popularity.
The main supporting characters (Ray Bolger, Jack Haley, and Bert Lahr) were established and recognisable actors, singers, and dancers. But their biggest contribution to the movie was comedy. And that marks the first thematic divergence from the book. Baum's book was a serious fairy tale. The movie was a comedy. Dorothy is relegated to the role of straight man (er, woman) while the Scarecrow, Tin Man, Lion, and Wizard (with broad, knowing winks at their adult audience) deliver a succession of corny one-liners that would make even Groucho groan.
In the book, Dorothy's companions are flawed. Each has something missing: a brain, a heart, courage. They visit the Wizard, who restores their missing parts using clever (though rather silly) magical methods. That's what wizards do.
The movie takes a different tack, not diverging greatly from the book's plot but altering the moral message in a very important way. The characters' flaws are only in their own minds. Their actions demonstrate this to the audience over and over again. And then, just in case anybody missed the point, the Wizard explicitly explains it to everybody. The Wizard doesn't cure their flaws; instead each is given the confidence to overcome his own flaws.
Just read that last sentence again. Now, forget what I said about the timeless music, the incredible special effects, the inspired casting, and the clever comedy. None of those elements make this the greatest movie of all time. The moral lessons, so deep and yet simple enough to appeal to a child, make this the greatest movie of all time. The Wizard doesn't cure their flaws; instead each is given the confidence to overcome his own flaws.
Finally, in the movie's greatest thematic divergence from the book, Dorothy hasn't actually travelled to another land called Oz. Her entire adventure has been a dream. The movie isn't about a quest in a magical land, it's about a child running away from home. It's about not appreciating what's in your own back yard. These are timeless themes that every child, and every adult, can identify with. It's a movie with a message. Actually several messages, as every character in the story learns his or her own lesson.
You've seen the movie. I'm sure you understand the lessons. But some ideas are important enough to bear repeating. And so, for children everywhere (and those adults who are still able to listen), I present the following truths:
Our universities are full of people with far less brain than you.
A heart is not judged by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others.
If you can be afraid yet still go on because you know it's the right thing to do, then that is courage.
Just because you're bad at being a wizard doesn't mean you can't be a good man.
And of course you all know:
There's no place like home.
© 2001 by David Meadows. All rights reserved. 6 January 2001