Are you new in Oz?
I bet so because
You’ve the look of someone lost,
Exhausted, star-crossed,
Like you’ve never seen a witch
Or a road of yellow brick
Or a beast with perfect pitch.
Plus, you strike me as homesick.

But that’s no big deal;
I know how you feel,
Like a friend I miss a lot,
Distraught, but fear not.
See, we’ve done this all before,
She got home still safe and sound.
If what’s past is what’s in store,
I’ve no doubt you’re homeward bound.
_________________________

MPA rating:  G (though PG fits better with some of the imagery and costumes)

Since 2024 marks the 85th anniversary of The Wizard of Oz and the first Broadway revival of The Wiz since its original 1970s run, it seemed like a good time to finally watch and review the film version of The Wiz. (We’ll ignore that this should have been done last year for my Blindspot list.) A modern retelling of L. Frank Baum’s classic story with an all-Black cast and different music, The Wiz was a definite Broadway hit, as its seven Tonys can attest, but I knew nothing about the film, beyond Michael Jackson playing the Scarecrow. So it was interesting going in blind to this version of Oz that has gone from a bomb to a cult classic in the 46 years since its release.

While the core isekai story remains the same, The Wiz is quite visually distinct from the Judy Garland classic, relocating from Kansas to urban Harlem and making the child Dorothy into an adult schoolteacher (Diana Ross) nervous to move away from her family neighborhood. When a freak snow twister (happens all the time in Harlem, I’m sure) transports her and her dog Toto to the dystopian land of Oz, the timid girl gathers companions (Jackson, Nipsey Russell, Ted Ross) on her way to ask the Wizard (Richard Pryor) to send her back home.

The Wiz takes some time to find its footing because I was surprisingly bored through initial set-up, and Diana Ross’s affected diffidence was more annoying than sympathetic. It wasn’t until the arrival of Michael Jackson’s Scarecrow and especially Ted Ross’s Cowardly Lion that I began truly enjoying it as a musical. Jackson plays the Scarecrow as a bashful doormat, pulling quotes out of his stuffing like a burlap Mrs. Who from A Wrinkle in Time, while Nipsey Russell is an affable carny Tin Man with some repressed trauma. But Ross as the Lion truly steals the show, matching the mix of insecurity and self-puffery that Bert Lahr brought to the original film, so it’s no wonder he won a Tony for the same role on Broadway. He also proves to be the MVP of the journey, saving the whole group from a subway come to life, in one of several nightmare-fuel sequences that must have haunted some childhoods. Pryor is a decently mousy Wizard, though he doesn’t have enough screen time to make an impression and doesn’t even provide any insight to the other characters; in researching the Broadway production, I was mainly floored to learn that André De Shields of Hadestown fame played the same role on stage.

As for the music, “Ease on Down the Road” is the film’s most famous number, but “I’m a Mean Ole Lion” and “Don’t Nobody Bring Me No Bad News” are fitting showstoppers for the Lion and the Wicked Witch of the West Evillene (Mabel King), respectively. The disco “Emerald City Sequence” also has some gobsmacking set and costume design that illustrates the Wizard’s power as a trendsetter and contrasts with the urban decay of much of the production design. But the true star of the soundtrack is “Everybody Rejoice/A Brand New Day,” Luther Vandross’s utterly catchy and joyful group dance number with the ensemble celebrating Evillene’s defeat, even if it’s made a tad weird by the freed Winkies cavorting in only their underwear.

The Wiz has zero chance of replacing the 1939 film as the definitive Wizard of Oz musical, but it gives the material a worthy spin. I found some of the exaggerated acting a bit strange or overly childish at first, but the 1939 film was guilty of the same and simply benefits from decades of nostalgia, so I can see why time has been kind to people’s perception of The Wiz. It’s certainly uneven but not a total trainwreck, and its high points are worth the price of admission to its strange urban odyssey.

Best line: (Scarecrow) “Success, fame, and fortune, they’re all illusions. All there is that is real is the friendship that two can share.”   (Dorothy) “That’s beautiful! Who said that?”   (Scarecrow, modestly) “I did.”

Rank:  List Runner-Up

© 2024 S.G. Liput
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