...one of the most enduring musical fantasies of all time.
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"There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home."
It's remarkable to think that the 1939 movie classic "The Wizard of Oz" we all know and love wasn't always as popular as it is today. At the film's opening, observers gave it mixed reviews. "As for the light touch of fantasy," wrote critic Otis Ferguson, "it weighs like a pound of fruitcake soaking wet." And critic Richard Mallett said, "I don't see why children shouldn't like it, but for adults there isn't very much except Bert Lahr."
Although the film enjoyed a profit at the box office, being re-released in the U.S. in 1949 and 1955, it would not realize its current status as a cultural icon until it began appearing as an annual special event on TV, premiering on network television in 1956 and beginning its historic run in 1959. After that, there was no stopping it. When MGM made the film, they had hoped it might achieve the success of Walt Disney's "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs." Little did they know it would take more than a quarter of a century to do so.
Now, after issuing several previous DVD editions, Warner Bros. have released the movie in their biggest and best sets yet, the one reviewed here a "Three-Disc Collector's Edition," with a totally restored picture, improved sound, and ton of extras. Who'da thunk?
You see, it's a wonder "The Wizard of Oz" got made at all. Based largely on the first book (1900) in a long series of children's novels by L. Frank Baum and his successors, the 1939 movie followed a handful of silent versions that never achieved great distinction. MGM went through a number of directors, including Richard Thorpe, George Cukor, and King Vidor, with Victor Fleming receiving the credit, to get the thing done. The studio had originally wanted W.C. Fields or Ed Wynn to play the Wizard, but they got Frank Morgan, who, coincidentally, wore the author's own coat in the film (the coat had been discovered in a used-clothing store). Also, the studio had wanted Shirley Temple to play Dorothy, Ms. Temple being the leading child actress of the time, but she was under contract to a rival studio, Fox, who wouldn't loan her out. Sixteen-year-old Judy Garland had to have her chest bound to look more like an eleven-year-old, a discomforting ordeal. Ray Bolger was unhappy as the Tin Man and asked to exchange roles with Buddy Ebsen, who was to have been the Scarecrow, but then Ebsen became allergic to the silver paint, and Jack Haley came in to replace him.
What more could go wrong? Well, the studio almost cut "Over the Rainbow," which won an Academy Award for composers Harold Arlen and E.Y. Harburg, because they thought it slowed down the action. Thank heaven common sense prevailed. Then, some of the veteran troopers--Bolger, Haley, and Bert Lahr--were afraid Garland would upstage them, Garland later saying she was unhappy during the shooting because of the way her costars subtly snubbed her. Bolger always denied the fact. What they all agreed on, though, was that they suffocated in their costumes under the hot studio lights, and everyone was probably getting pretty edgy. To add to the misery, Margaret Hamilton as the Wicked Witch (who, amazingly, was only in her thirties at the time but looked older) was severely burned in an accident involving the fire and explosion of her scene leaving Munchinland, and she couldn't work for the next six weeks. Furthermore, the little people playing the munchkins were said to be partying extensively every night at a nearby hotel, and the studio was glad when they finished their parts in the movie and left. The stories go on and on. Nor did the film stick entirely to the Baum classic, changing the Wicked Witch from an old crone afraid of the dark to the archetype we now recognize, Dorothy's adventure from a reality to a dream, her silver slippers to ruby, and so on. None of it mattered.
What was important was the result, and who can deny that the combination of stars, music, and fantasy in "The Wizard of Oz" doesn't still enchant almost everyone who watches it? Judy Garland elevated herself to the level of Shirley Temple as one of the world's best-loved movie youngsters; Ray Bolger endeared himself to audiences everywhere; Bert Lahr always made us laugh; Jack Haley was a commendable Tin Woodman; Frank Morgan, in all the parts he played as Professor Marvel, the Wizard, and various citizens of Emerald City, could hardly have been topped; Billie Burke as Glinda the Good Witch was beautiful and charming; Clara Blandick and Charley Grapwin as Aunt Em and Uncle Henry were as loveable as any kinfolk could be; Toto became everybody's favorite little dog; and, of course, dear Margaret Hamilton positively embodied the Wicked Witch of the West and would thereafter often be typecast as an old grump or gossip (in a career that lasted for the next forty years, all the way up until 1979).
Interestingly, I used to show "The Wizard of Oz" to my film classes every year because most of the students hadn't seen it since they were children, and I wanted them to see it with newer, older eyes. Afterwards, when they wrote about it and analyzed it, most of them expressed amazement at how different it was. For instance, many of them didn't realize that the characters at the beginning of the film--Professor Marvel (Frank Morgan), Miss Gulch (Margaret Hamilton), Hunk (Ray Bolger), Zeke (Bert Lahr), and Hickory (Jack Haley)--were the same people who would show up in Dorothy's adventure as the Wizard, the Wicked Witch, the Scarecrow, the Cowardly Lion, and the Tin Man. Likewise, many of them had no idea the movie was filmed almost entirely in a studio (only the opening clouds were real). "Why, the Emerald City is just painted on a screen!" many of them would exclaim. "When I was little, I thought they were really in the Land of Oz!"
No, it's world of soundstages, backdrops, and matte paintings, even the celebrated tornado a muslin wind sock hooked to an overhead scaffold. But does it matter? No more so than knowing that the dinosaurs in "Jurassic Park" are computer animations. It's the magic of movies that the best of them force us willingly to suspend our disbelief and enjoy them in spite of themselves.
Video:
The big news in video is that WB engineers newly restored the film, meticulously frame by frame, and it now looks probably as good as it did at its 1939 première. A high bit rate helps clarify the greater resolution, making for sharper image delineation and stronger contrasts, and, of course, the restoration engineers eliminated almost all signs of age--blemishes, scratches, specks, and the like. However, the greater resolution also increases the visibility of grain, particularly noticeable in the opening sepia sequences. When the Technicolor opens up, the grain becomes less of a factor, and the hues are so glorious we wouldn't notice, anyway, without any of the colors being in the least bit garish or overbearing.
Audio:
The big news in audio is that the engineers remixed the soundtrack in Dolby Digital 5.1. They explain in a separate feature that they started with a restored mono track, two different orchestra tracks, and a specific, edited music-and-effects track, combining them judiciously for the outcome we now hear. For those purists who want the original mono only, it is also available.
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