The Wiz

A musical seems like an absolutely odd choice for a director like Sidney Lumet, a director that was preoccupied with grit and realism. But that eye towards grit and realism made for a unique collaboration with The Wiz, which creates an imagined, fanciful New York, a New York in which graffiti comes alive and dances, and the yellow brick road extends from Harlem to Manhattan and beyond. And the film offers Lumet a chance to explore his favorite subject, New York City, in a new prism.

It’s a mystery to me why this film has such a terrible wide reputation, consider me part of the cult following. It’s not perfect, but it’s an excuse to watch Diana Ross, Michael Jackson, Lena Horne, Mabel King, and numerous other great talents sing, dance, and deliver comedic bits. If that’s not enough entertainment value for you, what more do you need? The Wiz also has numerous sequences that are full of clever bits and details, or imaginative images, or memorable songs, this is what a musical needs to succeed, and it does.

Admittedly, Diana Ross is still too old for the role of Dorothy has written here. No longer a young schoolgirl making the transition into adulthood, but a teacher in her early twenties struggling in an extended adolescence. Ross is clearly in her thirties, but she does possess vulnerability as an actress, a quacking need, and wide-eyed sweetness that works for the role. It’s easy to forget just how talented an actor she really is.

Much like the beloved classic, The Wiz finds Dorothy swept away to Oz, it is hinted that Glinda the Good Witch summoned her there, and on a journey of rediscovering her personhood and inner strength. Along the way, she meets up with the Scarecrow (Michael Jackson), the Tin Man (Nipsey Russell), and the Cowardly Lion (Ted Ross, repeating his role from the Broadway show). With the help of her friends, she must battle the evil witch, Evilene (Mabel King, also reprising her Broadway role), discover the secret of the Wiz (Richard Pryor), and get lessons from two good witches, Miss One (Thelma Carpenter) and the beatific Glinda (Lena Horne).

Perhaps The Wiz suffers from comparison to the classic 1939 film? No film should have to eternally live in the shadow of another, especially one with so radically different an approach and tone to the material. The Wizard of Oz created a world of pure fantasy and whimsy, a dreamscape for its heroine to ease into adulthood. The Wiz has a heroine who is afraid to leave home and strike out on her own, and her Oz is no less magical, but it’s a fantastical variation of her real world location. I think it works on its own terms, even if it does take a little too long to get where it’s going.

Once Dorothy lands in this topsy-turvy Munchkinland, here re-imagined as an inner-city playground with black-light graffiti people and a numbers running witch named Miss One, The Wiz is firing on all cylinders and propels forward towards its narrative conclusion. This is roughly thirty minutes into the film. It’s not that what has preceded it wasn’t engaging, but the tone was too sleepy.

After this awkward start, we’re treated to numerous memorable performances and moments. No moment hits with quite the same impact as “Everybody Rejoice/A Brand New Day.” Following immediately after the death of Evilene, again not a spoiler as this follows the basic story structure of The Wizard of Oz, this scene finds her various slaves removing the vestiges of her oppression and dancing with great abandon and joy, a joy that becomes infectious. The scene swirls around as chorus of bodies leap about the room, remaking themselves into clean slates and ready to return to their normal lives. It’s the kind of magical moment that only a musical could provide.

Other highlights include Jackson’s “You Can’t Win, You Can’t Break Even,” a song the Scarecrow is forced to sing for the crows over and over. Jackson’s pinned in one place, but his love of movement is clear. His ability as a dancer allows him to create a series of awkward, pained movements, as the Scarecrow doesn’t have complete control over his body. Jackson and Ross jubilantly skipping on the Yellow Brick Road and singing “Ease On Down the Road,” the musical’s most memorable song, is another highlight. And, of course, Lena Horne’s reprise of “Believe in Yourself” is a knockout moment. Horne’s Glinda is a glowing presence, and only an icon of her stature would have given the part and the song the gravitas it required. Ross’s elated crying is the only appropriate reaction to Lena Horne singing directly to you, telling you to believe in yourself, and offering encouragement and support.

The elaborate production and costume design refashions and recreates various landmarks and parts of New York City life into fantastical elements. The film also plays with color in various scenes to grand effect. The introduction of the Emerald City finds the denizens and large crystals decorating the area changing colors in the blink of an eye. This Emerald City owes more to Studio 54 than the metallic, massive one Judy Garland wandered into. It’s no surprise to me that these three elements were Oscar nominated, they’re pretty stellar.

It’s a little bloated, a little messy, but you’ve got a killer cast, a series of images that are always interesting, and a very pleasant score. It’s an endearing cult classic, and, dammit, I think it deserves to be better loved and embraced. Perhaps a reevaluation will be in order sometime soon.