This is part of a series of articles reviewing the American Film Institute's Top 100 Films, as unveiled in 2007. Why am I doing this? Because the damned cinemas are closed and I have to review something.
(G) ★★★★★
Director: Victor Fleming
Cast: Judy Garland, Ray Bolger, Jack Haley, Bert Lahr, Frank Morgan, Billie Burke, Margaret Hamilton, Charley Grapewin, Clara Blandick.
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| Apple Maps had failed Dorothy once again. |
Oh, how I adore this film. It's part of my most-watched holy trinity, alongside Raiders Of The Lost Ark and The Muppet Movie. It's the first movie I ever owned - a VHS for my fourth birthday.
"It doesn't matter how many times you've seen The Wizard Of Oz, it still feels fresh with every new viewing," wrote Matt Mueller in Film magazine's 100 Greatest Movies Of All Time list (which saw Oz land at #83).
No argument here, but it's really bloody hard (and odd) to review a movie that's so ingrained in my DNA, and so many other people's DNA for that matter. I assume everyone has seen this movie at least once, right? So what is there left to say about The Wizard Of Oz (although the same could be said of all these reviews I'm doing)?
So many aspects of this film are perfect, or close to perfection. In many ways, it's a how-to for modern blockbusters, long before the birth of the modern blockbuster (or even the birth of the term 'blockbuster'). Its themes are simple, its plot streamlined, its character motivations clear, and its visual spectacle unlike anything seen before.
The script, for example, is used in screenwriting classes as an explainer for the classic hero's journey. It's simple storytelling, flowing in an easy-to-follow and uncomplicated way, which is amazing when you consider it took 14 writers (only three of which were credited).
It rarely cuts away from Dorothy and her pals, except for some quick scenes to see what the Wicked Witch is up to, and again when they get separated after Dorothy is captured. This kind of direct storytelling makes it easy for kids to follow, but also keeps things focused and sharp.
The script itself is also economical. The pre-tornado scenes are particularly tight, and even though they're a bit hammy by modern standards, they don't waste a second, only pausing to take a breath so Judy Garland can sing what would become her theme song, Over The Rainbow. In 20 minutes of sepia-toned scene-setting, we're introduced to eight key characters (and a dog), six of whom are going to re-appear as dreamworld alter-egos with fully formed desires and personalities, all hinted at in the preceding 20 minutes.
It's worth noting that, yes, the "it was all a dream" twist is a cop out, but The Wizard Of Oz is the only film that can get away with it in my book (except maybe Inception). But cop-out endings aside, the script is sharp. There are some great gags, including Frank Morgan's double-taking as Professor Marvel, and the not-so-hapless Uncle Henry (Grapewin) and his interactions with Miss Gulch (Hamilton), not to mention Dorothy's comedic side-trio of Lion, Scarecrow and Tin Man.
But like the Tin Man by film's end, the screenplay also has heart. As much as it's about the adventure-crushing mantra of "there's no place like home", it's really about kindness and courage. It's age-old appeal stems not only from its eye-candy and mellifluousness, but its good deeds and friendship. As Dorothy helps her new companions one-by-one (including slapping some sense into the Cowardly Lion), dragging them out of their metaphorical ruts and leading them to personal betterment, they in turn are willing to lay down their lives to help her. And is there a better line in any movie than the Wizard's "hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable"?
All of these lines are delivered by a note-perfect cast that were almost all second choices. Garland donned the gingham only after Shirley Temple was unavailable, Haley got the call-up as the Tin Man after Buddy Ebsen had a near-fatal allergic reaction to the costume, Morgan took on his five roles when WC Fields passed, and Hamilton became the Wicked Witch after Edna May Oliver and Gale Sondergaard turned it down. Each is great in their role, and you can add Bolger and Lahr to that list of (accidental) pitch-perfect casting.
Much of the myth of The Wizard Of Oz comes from this "accidental" quality - this is the quintessential studio film that is better than it has any right to be. Not only was the cast a last-minute assemblage, but the director's chair was an ejector seat. Oscar-winning director Norman Taurog was dumped after filming test footage, replaced by Richard Thorpe, who was sacked for failing to get the film's tone or look to match producer Mervyn LeRoy's vision. George Cukor, famed director of The Philadelphia Story, Adam's Rib and My Fair Lady, held the fort in the meantime, making crucial changes to costumes, make-up and vibe of the film, before departing to start on Gone With The Wind upon the arrival of credited director Victor Fleming. Fleming would eventually depart to replace Cukor on Gone With The Wind, leaving an uncredited King Vidor to shoot the remainder of the film, which was predominantly the sepia-toned Kansas sequences.
(This video is awesome (stick with it):)
These are not the kind of machinations that usually lead to a film with a singular vision, but not so much in 1938-'39, where the "producer is God" mentality of film-making ruled. This means much credit for Oz's outcome goes to LeRoy, who steered the film from its inception, although William Bayer's 1973 book The Great Movies credits uncredited associate producer Arthur Freed for Oz's unified vision. Bayer writes that Oz is the first in a string of musicals adhering to Freed's methodology; that musicals "should be an organic whole... in which stories, songs and dances are integrated and unified by a strong dramatic line".
"Songs... must flow out of the dramatic material and advance the story... the transition from dialogue to music should be as smooth as possible, triggered usually by the emotion of a character," he writes, stating the Oz was the first of many Freed musicals that fit this formula.
(Sidenote: It was only rare films like Citizen Kane, rare directors such as Hitchcock, and then later the New Hollywood movement of the '60s and '70s that birthed the "director as auteur" school of film-making, temporarily laying waste to producer domination.)
As much as Freed was re-writing the film musical lexicon, it was the team LeRoy put together that proved to be flawless. Cinematographer Harold Rosson beautifully captured the fantastical palette - those the dazzling yellows and greens, but also the darkness and grey of the trek to the Witch's castle. He also gave the film scope - it was only as I got older that I marvelled at the beauty of those painted backdrops and realised that this massive fantasy land was brought to life on a studio soundstage. Rosson would go on to capture a similar vibrancy Gene Kelly and Stanley Donen's equally studio-bound Singin' In The Rain.
Then there is the mononymed costumer Adrian (who gave Dorothy her signature slippers), make-up artist Jack Dawn (who helped the Scarecrow and Lion look the way they do), and special effects artist Arnold Gillespie (whose remarkable tornado sequence looks as good today as it did then).
But if The Wizard Of Oz is memorable for anything - aside from its fun-lovin' Munchkins - it's its music, written by Harold Arlen and lyricist Yip Harburg (the latter being one of the many uncredited screenwriters too). For mine, this is the best musical of all time. Every song works perfectly, and their now-classic melodies can be brought to mind purely by naming the titles - Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead, If I Only Had A Brain, We're Off To See The Wizard, We Welcome You To Munchkinland. Even the lesser songs If I Were King Of The Forest and The Merry Old Land Of Oz are great, with the former particularly hilarious.
But the one song to rule them all, and indeed most movie tunes, is Over The Rainbow. Instantly recognisable from that opening octave leap, it's a magical musical moment that has transcended its source material, while giving the ill-fated Garland a tragically suitable theme song, used with devastating effect in last year's biopic Judy. And to think it was almost cut from the film.
There is so much more I could say - about winged monkeys, about the transition from sepia to colour, about Garland's performance - but you get the picture. The Wizard Of Oz is a masterpiece.
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