The Wizard of Oz

This is my 100th review, and I figure there's no more deserving movie than this, the first movie I ever officially called my favorite. I mean honestly, the first time I ever declared a movie as my favorite, it was The Wizard of Oz. We didn't own it, as I recall, but Grandma did, and I must have watched it over there a million times. I feel I must point out that The Wizard of Oz is no longer my favorite; it was replaced by Star Wars, which was replaced by The Matrix, which was in turn replaced by Kill Bill, which was forced to share that position with Casablanca. I know it's more or less worthless to say that my favorite movie is a tie, but if a guy can't let two perfect movies share that spot than you might as well paint our flag red and give me a hammer and sickle, because that would be communism I tell you! Come to think of it, I suppose the whole idea of "sharing" would probably be more in line with communism realistically, but since when has communism been realistic... and since when has any of this had to do with The Wizard of Oz? I suppose I got a little but off track there, no big deal, I'll try to focus from here on out. Where were we before the digression? Oh, right, my favorite movie. So yeah, even though it no longer holds the top spot, it'll always be the first, kind of like the first person you ever kissed; maybe you don't end up marrying them, but there will always be the memory of those butterflies violently assaulting your stomach, know what I mean? I never actually read any of the Oz books, but in my defense I've only ever had a few people really tell me they were all that good, whereas this is one of the most cherished of all movies, by the general community of cinephiles I mean, not just by me. And why wouldn't it be, it's got one of Hollywood's finest songs, it's got universal themes and therefore universal appeal, and it's got a story that just begs to be put into Technicolor. I swear that after the bleak introduction in black and white, we appreciate the beautiful saturated color as much now as anyone could ever have done in the days of its premier. I'm going to assume everybody out there knows it, but for the record, the plot revolves around Dorthy, a Kansas farm girl who is carried, along with her house, over the rainbow by a twister. During touchdown in the land of Oz she kills the Wicked Witch of the East, takes the witches ruby slippers, and in doing so makes herself the enemy of the witch's sister, the Wicked Witch of the... wait for it... East. I'm not making fun, the witch (whose green skin and flying monkeys are among the most memorable elements of my own childhood film viewing experiences) is a grand antagonist who does her best to reclaim her late sister's ruby slippers, threating the life of Dorthy and (I'm writing this review in Ashland so this next bit is just LOADS worse!) her little dog too. All Dorthy wants is to get home so, on the advice of Glinda the good witch, she follows the Yellow Brick Road to the Emerald City where the Wonderful Wizard of Oz is meant to help get her home. Along the way she meets The Scarecrow, The Tin Man, and The Cowardly Lion. Apparently back in 1939 it was uproarious that Rhett Butler said damn, but a young innocent and thoroughly defenseless girl traveling with three clearly shoddy backwoods type men was no big deal, well I guess she had Toto, who as we all know from Miss Gulch, was the biting type. I digress. The point is that before the film concludes with its final segment back in black and white, Dorthy learns that "there's no place like home," one of cinema's most old fashioned lessons, but still one of the best. It's funny because I watched this movie with a few kids who had never seen it before and their interaction with it was much different than mine at their age. I hate to sound like a grandfather, but all the spectacle we've come to expect (the "expectacle," if you will, that's totally a joke by the way) in movies, has taken away from the grandeur that a movie like The Wizard of Oz might have on first time viewers. I don't care how cheesy it sounds, I seriously still catch my breath when Dorthy first opens the door into the colorized world of Oz, and for crying out loud, I was born fifty years after its release. I recall that after watching the movie with the first time young viewers I felt dismayed, here was one of my favorite movies and it had left the utterly nonplussed. Perhaps in years to come they'll look back and have a greater appreciation for it, after all my appreciation for it has changed a lot over the years. I love a lot of things about it that have to do with the history of the movie, for example I'm exhilarated to think that director Victor Flemming released both this and Gone with the Wind in the same year; what a year, right? But there is still, and there always will be, that heart of my love for this movie which is based in the nostalgia I get from watching it. Whether it's on my laptop in some godforsaken bus station, or on a sixty inch television in restored DVD color, I turn it on and suddenly I feel like I'm five years old again, laying belly down on Grandma's living room floor, thrilled out of my mind because I get to, once again, watch my favorite movie.

A+