THE WIZARD OF OZ
MGM, 1939 | BLACK AND WHITE (SEPIA)/COLOR (TECHNICOLOR), 102 MINUTES
DIRECTOR: VICTOR FLEMING PRODUCER: MERVYN LEROY ASSOCIATE PRODUCER: ARTHUR FREED (UNCREDITED) SCREENPLAY: NOEL LANGLEY, FLORENCE RYERSON, AND EDGAR ALLAN WOOLF, BASED ON THE BOOK BY L. FRANK BAUM SONGS: HAROLD ARLEN (MUSIC) AND E. Y. “YIP” HARBURG (LYRICS) CHOREOGRAPHER: BOBBY CONNOLLY STARRING: JUDY GARLAND (DOROTHY GALE), FRANK MORGAN (PROFESSOR MARVEL/THE WIZARD), RAY BOLGER (“HUNK”/THE SCARECROW), BERT LAHR (“ZEKE”/THE COWARDLY LION), JACK HALEY (“HICKORY”/THE TIN MAN), BILLIE BURKE (GLINDA), MARGARET HAMILTON (MISS GULCH/WICKED WITCH OF THE WEST), CHARLIE GRAPEWIN (UNCLE HENRY), CLARA BLANDICK (AUNT EM), TERRY (TOTO)
A tornado carries a Kansas girl and her dog to a magical, dangerous land.
Is it possible to imagine a world without The Wizard of Oz? Without “Over the Rainbow” or the Cowardly Lion or even the Lollipop Guild? Fortunately, such speculation isn’t necessary.
As is common with great films, there are always the “what ifs” that might have made it different and less special. Thanks, then, to the producers, artists, and decision-makers at MGM, those who knew that Judy Garland was far more suited to play Dorothy than the better-known Shirley Temple; who realized that Richard Thorpe was not the right director and Victor Fleming was; who decided that Jack Haley would be the Tin Man after Buddy Ebsen became ill from the makeup; and who thought of starting the Technicolor when Dorothy opens the door. Gratitude, also, to Arthur Freed, just before he became a full-fledged producer, for coming up with the idea of hiring E. Y. “Yip” Harburg to write the lyrics, and Harold Arlen to compose the music. In the factory that was MGM, this was clearly an exceptional project, one to draw even finer work than usual. Then, after it began to run on television, new generations changed its status from movie to phenomenon to something greater. No moment of it is unfamiliar, no line unquoted, no performance or scene not beloved. As the on-screen prologue notes, “Time has been powerless to put its kindly philosophy out of fashion.” The retreads and deconstructions come and pass; the original always remains.
Judy Garland, Jack Haley, Ray Bolger
As with Snow White, Oz’s magic is so familiar that it’s easy to forget how much of it derives from its music and lyrics. The entire Munchkinland sequence—save for the interruption of the Witch—is a self-contained operetta, with songs and recitatives that propel the action and compel Dorothy to get to the Emerald City. The character songs of her three companions, the beguiling “Optimistic Voices,” the little makeover episodes of “The Merry Old Land of Oz,” and Lahr’s peerless “If I Were King of the Forest”—all these are skillful beyond the ways of most musicals. They are accessible to young ears yet, with Harburg and Arlen in charge, supremely witty and sophisticated. As for “Over the Rainbow”—could a song be better suited to a film, a situation, and a singer? It’s an old legend, and apparently true, that someone in the MGM hierarchy—allegedly, top gun Louis B. Mayer—wanted to cut it. Fortunately for the world, sanity prevailed.
Few musicals of any kind, let alone fantasies, have found such smooth and beguiling ways to connect the songs with the characters and the narrative. While there might have been more music in the last third, it was wise to take out “The Jitterbug,” which will likely remain the best-known “cut” song in any movie musical. Surely, with its lively tune and intricate lyrics, it was far too upbeat a piece to be placed at a point in the story when Dorothy and her friends are in grave danger. Perhaps another cut scene, the triumphant reprise of “Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead,” should have been retained—but, in light of the overall result, that’s mere quibbling.
Through artistry, craftsmanship, wisdom, fate, and sheer luck, The Wizard of Oz has become a permanent part of millions of lives. Would this be any less so were it not a truly great musical? Take one guess.
On the set: Ray Bolger, director Victor Fleming, dance director Bobby Connolly, and producer Mervyn LeRoy
WHAT’S MORE
Few movies have been so minutely analyzed and scoured in search of booboos. The most famous one involves Garland’s hair, which lengthens and shortens several times during her first scene with the Scarecrow. In another realm entirely is that head-scratcher of an urban myth that holds that someone—usually said to be a Munchkin or a stagehand—committed suicide on the set near the Tin Man’s cottage. In reality, the figure moving in the background is not a hanging corpse but actually something quite alive—a sarus crane, rented from the Los Angeles Zoo to provide some exotic set dressing.
At $2,777,000, The Wizard of Oz ranked behind only the original Ben-Hur (1925) and The Good Earth (1937) as MGM’s most expensive production up to that time, and its initial posted loss of $1.15 million was catastrophic. Fortunately, the red ink was erased with reissues in 1949 and, prior to its sale to television, in 1955. Since then the profit has been massive, including home video and an enormously varied amount of merchandising. Oz also turns up occasionally in movie theaters, and anyone who’s never seen it that way is hereby ordered to do so.
MUSICALLY SPEAKING
Judy Garland was always aware of what The Wizard of Oz achieved, and what it meant to people. When asked to perform a joking parody of her trademark song on television, she could have not been more adamant. “There will be no jokes of any kind about ‘Over the Rainbow,’” she declared. “It’s kind of… sacred. I don’t want anybody, anywhere, to lose the thing they have about Dorothy or that song.” Not to worry, Ms. Garland. They won’t.
“If I Were King of the Forest”: Bert Lahr
“Over the Rainbow”: Judy Garland