"The Wizard of Oz" and its right to endure

Wilson High School, where I teach, is preparing a production of The Wizard of Oz, which is--I think--the greatest live-action children's movie in history.

Every morning my wife and I wake up singing the songs, and every morning we comment on how we are not tired of the songs yet--a sign that the songs are very good.

The play is based on the 1939 MGM film, with some portions of the script that were cut from the film, and some additional post-modern schtick.  (The play version was written in 1987 for the Royal Shakespeare Company, too soon to benefit from the death of post-modernism and the playwright's need to answer all those nagging questions like, "What happened to Miss Gultch?" and "Where did the Winkies come from and why do they sing that song?")  The music utilizes not only the Harold Arlen and Yip Harburg songs from the film, but the thematic elements from Herbert Stothart's masterful score.  (What would Oz be without the witch's theme?  I ask you.)

I have had a couple of opportunities lately to talk to my students about why I think the Oz music is so good, and part of my answer is that it doesn't dumb itself down at all for the sensibilities of little children.  It is adult, sophisticated, and accessible to children all at once.

Think of "Over the Rainbow."  The melody covers an octave and a third; so many of today's melodies are simple diatonic chants--if there are melodies at all in modern popular music.  The harmonies of the A  portion of the chorus change tonic three times, and are full of rich harmonic extensions and dissonant suspensions, finally resolving on a 6th (for the unmusical among you, that's halfway between major and minor; or, in other words, halfway between happy and sad).

The lyrics are brilliant in their combination of childhood simplicity and adult complexity:  "Some day I"ll wish upon a star [an oft-repeated childhood phrase] and wake up where the clouds are far behind me [an ambiguous idea that could be anything from the safety of heaven to death]."  The verse (usually omitted) speaks of "clouds...darken[ing] up the skyway," which is possible in the best of times, but takes on additional significance when one realizes that two Jews wrote it in 1938.  It is practically a national lament, "If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow, why, oh, why can't I?"

I personally love the playful rhymes of the triptych "If I Only Had a Brain/Heart/Nerve":  "I would not be just a nuffin,/ My head all full of stuffin',"  "When a man's an empty kettle,/ He should be on his mettle" (how often do you get puns like that--the "metal" man should be on his "mettle," or show his worth/courage--in lyrics nowadays?), and "I would show the dinosaurus/ Who's king around the fores'."

"The Jitterbug" was cut from the film to save time and because it was too much of its age for timeless Oz.  Now, 75 years later, it fits perfectly, and that's good.  It is loud, dissonant, big-band jazz at its best.

When children's theater or children's films succeed today, they succeed on the same terms, I think.  First, they are not dumbed down.  Second, they do not stint in quality simply because they are made for a younger audience.  And, third, they are understood on multiple levels that continue to enrich the viewer throughout adulthood.

Let's take Disney seriously

When I was in graduate school back in the mid-1990's, one of my professors and I got into--shall we say?--an argument about whether or not Disney was a valid subject of film study.  "Disney is not film!" the professor insisted.  "Disney is only a corporation selling things!"

This arose because I suggested at the time that such films as The Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, and The Lion King might represent a renaissance of musical film and theater.  They were classic musicals, I asserted, and, if they were on the stage (they weren't at the time--wasn't I prescient?) they would be the sorts of shows that parents would take their children to, which would lead their children to learn to appreciate musicals in form, content, and symbology.

This was partly born out of my personal belief that ever since the late 1960's, and especially with the advent of Hair, musical theater has been much less family friendly, and that unfriendliness is part of the reason for a period of decline in the popularity of the form.  I think that since the musical form is a difficult form to read, if children are not trained to read it, they will likely abandon it--which is almost exactly what happened until--guess when--Disney helped to establish the resurgence we are seeing today.


In order to consider such things as Disney's influence on the American musical--or the company's influence on any part of American culture--we must take Disney seriously as an artistic style, and not reject the company merely because it makes makes money. (Which American motion picture company does not try to make money?  Even William Shakespeare made money--lots of it--and we take him seriously.  If he could have sold little Hamlet dolls, I'm sure he would have without flinching.)

So, let's take Disney seriously.  Walt, after all, won more Academy Awards than any other person in history.  Disneyland, perhaps the best if not the first theme park, is an immersive theater experience, utilizing audience participation, environmental theater, street theater, improvisation, happenings, and shows within the show.

Before I start on any extended discussion of Disney and performing art, I want to make it clear that I do not work for the company.  I never have, and I likely never will.  I have no connection to Disney whatsoever except the connections of my own childhood and the connections of the Disneyphiles I raised.

The Millennialist

It is becoming increasingly evident that post-modernism is dead.

It is not surprising; post-modernism reached its apex in the 1980s and has been slowly breaking off into shards of its former self since then. Besides, the average shelf-life of a period’s definitive qualities is usually only about a half century at most.

Because I spent so many good years of my adolescence and young adulthood enjoying self-referent art, anachronism, eclecticism, and the incessant questioning and disruption of tradition and authority, I watch the death of post-modernism with some wistfulness.

And I watch what’s coming with both trepidation and wonder.

I call it Millennialism--not because it reflects the expected Christian Millennium (it doesn’t), but because it occurs at the turn of the millennium, and it thinks of itself as the beginning of a new order of things.

I wish to define it in language easy to be understood, and I wish to comment on it in a variety of ways, including observations both judgmental and non-. I wish to mark its advent with an eye both celebratory and critical. I wish to approach it as a poet as well as a chronicler, a healer as well as an amputator, a participant as well as a by-stander. I wish to argue for its wonders and against its excesses.

I wish to engage in a pre-Millennialist dialog on the meaning of what’s happening, encouraging the good, quelling the bad, and debating which is which.

Here is what I see emerging, and what I believe will be some of the major hallmarks of the next half-century:

Ad hoc tribalism: Communities are no longer formed largely by geography, but electronically. Geographically formed groups still exist, but many times they are divided by a more precise division of interests than was ever possible before.

Neo-Rococo art: Whereas, formerly, Rococo art was intricate and ornate in appearance, now art is intricate and ornate in layers of accessible information.

Accepted lack of privacy and/or casual exhibitionism: There is little concern for lack of privacy, and there is an effort to display oneself globally. This includes the wide acceptance of intimate sexuality publicly displayed.

There are also some trends that I think may likely manifest themselves more thoroughly in the near future:

Disregard for innovation, and a tendency to accept innovation as an expected thing. This is in contrast to the wonder and fear of technology throughout much of the Twentieth Century.

Continued move toward post-literacy. Written communication will become increasingly irrelevant or unnecessary; filmed communication will become more important.

Democratization of the arts. More and more people will be able to create their own visual and performing art at increasingly high professional levels, using technology to replace skill.

Widespread acceptance of the overturning of traditional norms and values. During Modernism and Post-modernism, there were concerted efforts by the avant-garde to change accepted behaviors and aesthetics. There are no more taboos, except a return to established norms.

Science will have largely replaced religion as the arbiter of societal mores.

Increased polarization of large coalitions, joining against each other on issues such as religion, abortion, climate change, and sexuality. Previous issues, such as gender and race equity, will have been settled.

I am both optimistic and concerned. I see so much positive in many trends, while I decry what I see as avoidable decay.

But I also confess, I want to the be first to document it.

We are in a new age. I hope we do something good with it.