The fact that seventy years later this screen adaptation of perhaps America’s most celebrated fairytale has lost none of its power to enchant and astonish adults and children alike tells you everything. First published in 1900 by author L. Frank Baum, The Wizard of Oz was greeted with Harry Potter-like acclaim, spawning a subsequent thirteen more books, a stage musical, twenty-six unofficial stories, a television miniseries, and a dark as midnight 1985 sequel. Yet this 1939 production remains the definitive Oz experience, rediscovered with all its magical wonder by each new generation.
Few films have seared themselves into our collective consciousness and achieved such cultural iconography with such lasting impact. That it is so universally well received and remains so un-weathered by changing trends, shifting ideals, and new media is due to its many subtle layers. There are as many different ways to read The Wizard of Oz as there are yellow bricks in the road: it’s a fairytale; a musical; a coming-of-age story; a social commentary on depression era America; a girl’s sexual awakening; The Odyssey for kids still learning to read.
Though given its long and troubled – some might even say cursed – production it’s at times a wonder that it was even finished. Victor Fleming is the director credited but is in fact one of five (along with fourteen writers) to work on a picture that spat them out through a revolving door of problems and incidents that have gone down in the annals of movie lore, some more real than others. Yes, original Scarecrow Buddy Ebson did agree to trade roles with the Tin Man and wound up having an allergic reaction to the makeup so severe that he almost died. No, a munchkin never hanged himself on film. That dark object you can see swinging in the middle distance is a sandbag that fell from the lighting rig.
It’s also much darker than people give it credit for. The oft-forgotten black & white farmstead sequence setting a fearful tone upon opening, with Margaret Hamilton’s malevolent rich-bitch making off with Dorothy’s beloved Toto – a terrifying prospect to which her parents and their distracted farmhands appear utterly indifferent. Then, ripped from everything familiar and tossed into a strange netherworld, she takes the first tentative steps towards adulthood [read: sexual maturity] when she dons the ruby (blood red, think about it) slippers.
The cackling Hamilton, now transformed into the fire-throwing Wicked Witch of the West, is the stuff of nightmares, declaring; “I’ll get you my pretty,” before delivering the kicker, “and you’re little dog, too!” Jesus Christ! The little dog, too? Evil! From there, as Dorothy makes her way through this strange new world – a richer, Technicolor world - towards the Emerald City with her strapped in bosom positively bursting through that gingham dress, she essentially interacts with men (the actors playing the farmhands also play her fairytale companions) for the first time on her own terms. Adult costume stores carry that dress and others like the naughty Alice in Wonderland for a reason, you know.
But even without the metaphors, which are sadly reduced in the final reel to a very safe, very blunt message for little girls potentially enticed by the prospect of excitement in the big city (“There’s no place like home”), the films remains unparalleled as a pure cinematic spectacle. Very much an actor's film The Wizard of Oz revels in performance. From Dorothy’s curious vulnerability amidst the munchkins to the many song-and-dance set pieces, at all times the camera retreats to a respectful distance and allows the performers freedom to really bring these characters to life. Arguably the last great example of grand old studio style filmmaking The Wizard of Oz is a film that stands as a picture very much of its time and yet strangely timeless.
DVD Bonus Features
As you might expect, any film receiving a 70th Anniversary Edition is likely to be positively bursting with extra features, and MGM certainly does not disappoint. This two-disc set features commentary by historian John Fricke, an illustrated video storybook detailing the film’s restoration. Also present are cast profiles, galleries, trailers, promos, and an all-new sing-a-long feature.
Finally, you'll find two television specials: "The Making of a Classic Movie" and "Memories of Oz" as well as a making-of featurette and numerous retrospectives, deleted scenes, outtakes and trailers.
