I saved The Wizard of Oz and Gone with the Wind until last — without a clue that they share the same director. After this post, which concludes 1939, I will take a hiatus and begin a new decade of film with the new year.
the wizard of oz
Thinking about The Wizard of Oz elicits a host of childhood memories, although I’m sure that’s true for most people. I have a complete collection of the L. Frank Baum series, my first AOL e-mail address referenced the obscure character Queen Zixi, and I still take pride in my tour-de-force performance as the scarecrow in a non-musical production. As a middle schooler, I had too much fun collecting bruises, and even after spending rehearsal sessions falling forward and backward between the arms of the director and the assistant, I still couldn’t compete with noodle legs Ray Bolger.
Watching the movie not only brought on a wave of nostalgia, it also induced a childlike wonderment, not unlike how I felt rewatching Snow White a few months ago. The colors of Oz, like Snow White, mesmerize: when have I seen the yellow of the yellow brick road in my life? I found the effects, however they were magically achieved, astonishing: Glinda’s entrances and exits in a pink bubble, the wicked witch’s exploding red clouds that look super toxic. The costumes of the scarecrow, tin man, and lion are seamless and strangely realistic, while the munchkins’ hairdos had me wondering what costume designer could come up with such delightfully bizarre styles. Despite the incredible sets, though, I don’t feel that the movie delivered an immersive experience, something I felt with Snow White. I haven’t yet figured out what exactly prevented me from fully entering the movie’s world — perhaps the artificial lighting — but I was constantly aware, throughout the entire film, that this spectacular world was confined to a sound stage.
I have no conflicted feelings over the larger than life performances of the scarecrow, tin man, and lion. The episodic plot could have been tedious with each introduction of a new character, but these talented actors use their entrances to build momentum toward the climactic infiltration of the Wicked Witch of the West’s fortress. Having seen The Great Ziegfeld, I’ve developed a great appreciation for Ray Bolger’s talent. How anyone could have cast him as the tin man — his initial role — I don’t know (see Wikipedia)!
And finally, I listen to Judy Garland recordings fairly regularly, but I’d forgotten just how much of her gorgeous tone already existed in her teenage self. My voice teacher and I agree: she was something else.
I’ll close with my favorite scene, the lion’s aria:
gone with the wind
On a Saturday over a month ago, I realized I was coming down with a cold and felt that planting myself on the couch for four hours might not be a bad thing. John and I even rearranged furniture so we could gorge ourselves on this southern epic in comfort. Now, I had seen GWTW once before as a child, but as the careless VCR operator I inserted the second tape in first. As “part 1” came to a close, it was hard to figure out where a relationship could go after “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn”… watching the movie in the proper sequence really did make quite a difference.
GWTW tells many stories and there’s no way to unpack them all in a short post (although the Carol Burnett parody does a pretty good job in 20 minutes). It doesn’t help that I’ve put off writing this post forever and that my list of “immediate” reactions has long grown cold.
- The movie’s drama derives from the unceasing tension between Rhett and Scarlett, who simply will not give up her undying love for Ashley Wilkes. If I knew anything about psychology and couples counseling, I would offer a course on failed relationships in film where the class would watch movies and discuss the messes these fictional characters make of their lives and their inability to communicate an honest sentiment.
- While Clark Gable plays the overly-familiar, swarmy, nonchalant guy well (as usual), Vivien Leigh is on fire. Scarlett, the self-centered belle who becomes an unforgiving survivalist and never manages to do the right thing in matters of love, may not be the most likeable character, but she commands attention with her ambition and determination.
- I loved Leslie Howard in Pygmalion, but he seems awkward as Ashley Wilkes — not all that appealing or even understandable as a focal point for Scarlett’s passion. However, by exuding loving kindness, Olivia de Havilland’s Melanie Wilkes provides the perfect counterpart to the searing Scarlett. Heck, their names say all you need to know: honey vs. blood red.
- Huffington Post promises that Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained “will change the way you think about American history.” GWTW, on the other hand, reinforces traditional characterizations of slaves as brainless and ever-obliging (which MADtv parodies so well with in the alternate endings for GWTW skit).
- Though used to excess, the shots of silhouettes against a raging sky contribute to the movie’s dramatic romanticism and the depiction of the land’s natural beauty.
- After the scene when Scarlett runs out into the streets of Atlanta to find a doctor and instead sees dying soldiers laid out in the square, John turned to me and said “That’s one of the most famous shots in cinema.” It is an incredible moment on film as the camera slowly pulls back to reveal a limitless sea of injured and dead (watch here).
- My feelings about GWTW are best summed in a quote by Frank S. Nugent: “Is this the greatest motion picture ever made? Probably not, although it is the greatest motion mural we have seen…” (Piazza and Kinn, The Academy Awards, 50).
Lanahj 