The Book Lightwalker Files

Part 1 of 6 on The Wizard of Oz.

We know the lines by heart. We’ve memorized the songs. For 111 years now, L. Frank Baum’s fantasy of a displaced farm girl in the magical world of Oz has thrilled hearts, 72 of those years in movie format. We also know the plot, so there’s no point trying to hide the ending.

I will note that the 1939 movie departed significantly from the 1900 book. Baum described Kansas as a thoroughly gray world, which is why Kansas scenes were produced in black and white. Later, a sepia tone was added. Having lived about two-thirds of my life in Kansas, I can tell you it’s not nearly as drab as the movie depicts.

No one there speaks of a “cyclone,” unless they’re talking about the atmospheric condition that causes tornadoes. In fact, a tornadic wind never kicks up suddenly; the days would already be windy before anyone sees a funnel.

Whereas the movie showed only one cottage, serving as a perch for the wicked witch, the book notes several cottages along the Yellow Brick Road. Dorothy even meets and stays with the people a couple of times. She wears silver slippers instead of ruby. In Emerald City, Dorothy’s band sees through green-tinted glasses, but the movie made the city itself all green. Then there’s the Hammerheads with spring-loaded necks, who never appeared in the movie.

The movie opens on Dorothy running home and trying to get someone to listen to her plight. Her cairn terrier Toto has chased Miss Gulch’s cat into her garden, destroying it and biting its owner, and now Miss Gulch is furious. But everybody is too busy with farm chores to listen.

Dorothy isn’t really a brat, but neither is she mature; I keep thinking she should put that dog on a leash. A farm hand named Hunk (Scarecrow) comes up with another good solution. “When you come home, don’t go by Miss Gulch’s place, then Toto won’t get in her garden, and you won’t get in no trouble. See?”

She pouts. “Oh, Hunk, you just won’t listen, that’s all.”

“Well, your head ain’t made of straw, you know.”

Another hand, Zeke (Lion), suggests a more aggressive approach: “Have a little courage, that’s all. … The next time she squawks, walk right up to her and spit her in the eye. That’s what I’d do.”

As he speaks, Dorothy tries to walk balanced on a fence between hog pens, and she falls in. Zeke rushes to her rescue, but he comes out trembling and sweating. “Whatsa matter?” says Hunk, laughing. “Did a little old pig make a coward out of you?”

Then there’s Hickory (Tin Man), who comes to see what happened, just before Aunt Em breaks it up with more chores to do. Miffed, he strikes a pose like his alter-ego holding an ax. “Someday they’re going to erect a statue to me in this town.”

“Well, don’t start posing for it now,” says Em.

Soon Miss Gulch arrives by bicycle with a writ from the sheriff, giving her permission to take Toto to be destroyed. At first Uncle Henry and Aunt Em are sympathetic to Dorothy, but the sheriff’s order overrides it. Aunt Em’s enraged comment is the most biblically correct one in the story. “For 23 years I’ve been dying to tell you what I thought of you. And now … being a Christian woman, I can’t say it!” It aligns with the injunction: “In your anger do not sin” (Ephesians 4:26). Miss Gulch takes the terrier in a picnic basket and pedals away, but Toto escapes.

A couple of interesting notes here, which I didn’t see till recently. The basket is the same one the wicked witch uses when she takes Toto from Dorothy. And whereas the movie starts after Toto chased Miss Gulch’s cat, Dorothy’s return home is delayed because Toto chases another cat, held in an Ozian woman’s arms. That dog really needs a leash!

And so does Dorothy, for as soon as Toto returns, she runs away to Professor Marvel down the road (the wizard, of course). Between his crystal ball and his psychological con games, one would think he’s a charlatan at best, but there’s more to him. His efforts to guess why Dorothy is running away show his clumsiness to “get in touch with the infinite,” which reflects the wizard’s confession late in the movie.

Answering Dorothy’s charge, “You’re a very bad man,” he replies: “Oh, no, I’m a very good man. I’m just a very bad wizard.”

Well, I don’t know about the “very good” part, but he is a sympathetic soul who tries to help Dorothy make the right decision. I’ll take a closer look at all five of these double characters in the weeks to come.

To impel Dorothy back home, Professor Marvel says Aunt Em has had a sudden heart attack, but that’s when the tornado hits. It lifts the farmhouse off its foundation and lands it whole, if not disarrayed, in the middle of Munchkinland and on top of the Wicked Witch of the East.

My first sight of the flying house so impressed me, eventually it became the “houseship” of Savage Worlds, the sequel of which I am currently editing for publishing. No doubt you’ve heard of houseboats; the houseship is similar in principle.

Anyway, back to the show. Once oppressed by the Wicked Witch of the East, the Munchkins celebrate their freedom and uphold Dorothy as their national hero: “You will be a bust, be a bust, be a bust, in the Hall of Fame.” Though she tries to explain about coming from Kansas, their perception understandably goes a different direction. “She fell from a star … and Kansas, she says, is the name of the star.”

I love the Munchkinland set. After several minutes of watching sepia tones, the splash of Technicolor lets you know instantly this is an entirely different place. I understand between the background and the various costumes, plus hiring more than a hundred talented midgets to play the parts, it’s the most expensive set in all of Hollywood. I also understand that, despite Judy Garland’s tall tales, only very few of the midgets were rowdy folk. Most were friendly and respectful, a range common in any group of people.

Glinda, the Good Witch of the North, also shows up to lead the celebration. She comes in a large iridescent bubble that floats down in front of Dorothy, and fades away to reveal her. Two days after Halloween, I will contrast her with the Wicked Witch of the West, but for now let’s say the wicked witch has no power as long as the good witch protects Dorothy. Glinda and the Munchkins send her down the Yellow Brick Road to seek the Wizard of Oz, the best person to find her a way home.

Obviously, as in C. S. Lewis’ Narnia tales, the wicked witch represents the Devil. Aside from her sister being killed, her issue is not so much Dorothy herself, but the ruby slippers she wears. Keep in mind this is a fantasy, so not every detail will fit what I’m going to say. Yes, the ruby slippers came off the dead witch’s feet, but their role in the story is to keep the other wicked witch at bay. They even prevent her from forcing them off while Dorothy is alive.

“Keep tight inside of them,” Glinda tells Dorothy. “Their magic must be very powerful, or she wouldn’t want them so badly.”

The red slippers on Dorothy act like the blood of Christ in our own lives. Evil can’t touch us. Even if someone pronounces a hex on us without our knowledge, the blood of Christ protects us. Yellow is the color of gold, so her trip reflects the golden street in New Jerusalem, leading to God’s Throne (Revelation 21:21). Emerald City may be compared with Heaven, and the wizard with God, but again I caution against making too much of these generalities.

As for Dorothy’s immaturity, after the wizard floats away in his hot-air balloon, Glinda returns and tells her she’s always had the power to go back to Kansas. She just had to learn a lesson first, so Dorothy recites what she thinks Glinda means.

“It wasn’t enough just to want to see Uncle Henry and Auntie Em. And it’s that, if I ever want to look for my heart’s desire again, I won’t look any farther than my own back yard. Because if it isn’t there, I never really lost it to begin with.”

Aha, maturity gained. Now buy a leash for that dog.