“The Wizard of Oz”: A Deeper Appreciation
When I was a child, The Wizard of Oz captivated me because of its memorable moments and details that became ingrained into American culture. The tornado snaking its way toward Dorothy’s home. The frantic and menacing Herbert Stothart score as the evil Miss Gulch pedals furiously past Dorothy’s window in the cyclone. Dorothy opening the door of her sepia-toned Kansas home to reveal the vibrant, colorful land of Oz. The Wicked Witch of the West — one of the great movie villains of all time — sneering, “I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too!” And so much more.
What did the movie actually mean, though? My younger self accepted at face value that the movie was about reconnecting with home. How could I not, as the movie ended with Dorothy reminding me, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.”
Over Thanksgiving weekend, I rewatched the movie at home, partly because the consumer technology nerd in me wanted to see how the movie would look and sound on a 4K disc. Partly because I wanted to see how well Margaret Hamilton’s brilliant performance as Miss Gulch/the Wicked Witch of the West held up. She had, after all, frightened me when I was a child.
The movie looks and sounds better than ever, and the Wicked Witch of the West seems even scarier now because her villainry is rooted in humanity, as when she cries in a wounded voice, “Oh, what a world! What a world! Who would have thought a good little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness?”
But what changed is my perception of the movie’s meaning. Maybe it’s the accumulated weight of living 61 years and experiencing life’s joys, calamities, and uncertainties. Perhaps I’m simply a more experienced student of film now. But this time around, I gained a newfound appreciation for themes of longing and unresolved hardship. There’s no place like home, to be sure. But a safe home is not assured.
As Dorothy’s story unfolds, we never find out why she is living with her aunt and uncle on a hardscrabble farm, but the absence of her parents casts a shadow of deep loss. She is troubled, and for good reason. She and her beloved Toto have run afoul of the toxic Miss Gulch, who wields great power in the area and is not to be trifled with. I had forgotten how lost Dorothy is, as she tries but fails to get the attention of her Auntie Em and Uncle Henry, who are too busy running the farm to pay Dorothy any attention. Of course, we all know what’s coming: Dorothy, heavy-hearted, sings “Over the Rainbow,” the much celebrated song written by Harold Arlen and Yip Harburg.
Signficantly, Dorothy muses about a happier life free of care before she sings Harburg’s poignant words. After Auntie Em dismisses her by asking, “Why don’t you find a place where there isn’t any trouble?” Dorothy muses, “Some place where there isn’t any trouble. Do you suppose there is such a place Toto? There must be. It’s not a place you can get to by a boat or a train. It’s far, far away. Behind the moon, beyond the rain.”
When Dorothy sings “Over the Rainbow,” she yearns for that place of beauty and peace, a world where troubles melt like lemon drops and dreams come true. “If happy little bluebirds fly/Beyond the rainbow/Why, oh why can’t I?” Dorothy asks. But this place does not exist. And, we are to learn, nor will it ever.
Indeed, even after her extraordinary journey to Oz and her return home, she realizes that such a place exists only in her imagination. While she is comforted to be back with her beloved Aunt Em and Uncle Henry, Dorothy has been irrevocably changed by her experience. She has tasted a trauma that leaves her wiser but also more aware of life’s hardships.
Her initial flight from home to save Toto from the horrid Miss Gulch is a desperate act of love and defiance (I thought of Clarice Starling’s childhood attempt to rescue a lamb from slaughter in The Silence of the Lambs.) Even in Oz, Dorothy faces adversities: the Wicked Witch embodies ever-present danger, and the Wizard, whom she hopes will solve her problems, is revealed to be an ordinary man hiding behind illusions. These moments dismantle the idea of a perfect savior or a magical escape, emphasizing that hardship is inescapable.
The visual contrast between sepia-toned Kansas and the vibrant, technicolor world of Oz mirrors Dorothy’s emotional journey. Kansas, with its drabness, represents the harsh realities of life that she cannot avoid. While Oz is a dazzling world of possibility, it ultimately reveals itself as an impermanent dreamscape. Dorothy yearns for the vibrancy of Oz, but she learns that she must accept Kansas as her reality, with all its storms and struggles.
Dorothy’s return home to Kansas, a place still prone to tornadoes and ruled by the likes of the powerful Miss Gulch, underscores the ambiguity of home. It is both a refuge and a reminder that life’s challenges persist. While she finds solace in the familiar, the fate of Toto remains unresolved, and the future looms uncertain. This duality captures the bittersweet reality of home: a place of comfort, but not a sanctuary from life’s storms.
Oz itself is a place that dwells in Dorothy’s mind, offering adventure, lessons, and self-discovery. Like Glinda the Good Witch’s revelation that Dorothy had the power to return home all along, the journey highlights that the solutions we seek often lie within us. Dorothy’s companions — the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion — each embark on their own paths of growth, realizing that the qualities they seek were within them from the start. Oz teaches Dorothy courage, love, and self-reliance, but it also reminds her that such lessons come through confronting, not escaping, life’s struggles.
This is the beautiful and painful truth at the heart of The Wizard of Oz: no matter how far we journey, no matter how fantastical the adventure, we cannot escape hardship and trauma. Oz is not a solution, but a reflection of our inner worlds. We learn. We grow. But we ultimately return to face life’s realities, changed but still vulnerable.
