The birth of a cinematic and cultural icon – just not the one you think!
When it comes to timeless classics, few films have ever come close to the enchantment and cultural impact of The Wizard of Oz. Eight and a half decades since its release, its magic endures, its melodies still make hearts swell, and its vivid imagery is woven into the very fabric of pop culture. Yet it’s not just a musical romp down the Yellow Brick Road; it’s a film layered with symbolism, complexity, and a production history that’s as colourful (and occasionally as tumultuous) as the journey to the Emerald City itself.
From the moment Judy Garland’s Dorothy steps out of her black-and-white Kansas existence into a Technicolor wonderland, the film announces itself as an astonishing cinematic achievement. The use of Technicolor, still relatively novel at the time, is more than a gimmick though—it is a storytelling decision that effectively and dramatically communicates the shift from drab reality to dreamlike fantasy. It’s a decision that pays off every time we see Dorothy, Toto, and the various friends they make on their way to the Emerald City. Today, it’s easy to forget how visually revolutionary this was; modern audiences are overindulged by the ease of CGI spectacle, but in 1939, this shift in colour was pure movie magic.
The Wizard Of Oz’s straightforward narrative is propelled by its unforgettable songs, many of which have lodged themselves firmly in the annals of film history. “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” is an ode to hope, dreams, and the yearning for something beyond the everyday—a song that perfectly encapsulates Dorothy’s desire to escape her constrained life on the farm. Garland’s earnest performance, simultaneously fragile and courageous, makes Dorothy an enduring heroine—one who isn’t in any way a conventional action hero but triumphs through heart, resilience, and empathy. There’s a sincerity to Garland’s portrayal that transcends time; she doesn’t play Dorothy, she embodies her, making it impossible to imagine anyone else singing that song or skipping down that road in those ruby (changed from the novel’s silver to provide more of a pop! of technicolour) slippers.
The various dangers of the not-so-merry old land of Oz are counterpointed beautifully by the bumbling yet heartfelt qualities of the trio of companions Dorothy meets: the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Cowardly Lion. Ray Bolger, Jack Haley, and Bert Lahr each bring a unique blend of comedy and pathos to their roles, giving depth to what might have been simple caricatures. Their needs are comically straightforward, but their pursuit of brain, heart, and courage gives the story an emotional foundation that resonates even today. Their camaraderie and the film’s assurance that what we seek is often within us all along remains an uplifting, evergreen message.
But as delightful and mesmeric as Garland is, and no matter how heartwarming her archetypal companions may be, there’s no overlooking the film’s most wickedly enduring character: Margaret Hamilton’s Wicked Witch of the West. Hamilton delivers a performance that would go on to redefine what a screen villain could be. And yet, despite being the embodiment of wickedness, there’s a perverse delight to her presence. Her cackling laugh and ominous threats are genuinely unsettling, but Hamilton’s commitment to the role also brings an odd charisma—something that makes her memorable far beyond her relatively limited screen time. It’s this magnetic menace that has made the Wicked Witch not just a villain but a cultural icon, as recognisable today as any superhero or Disney princess.
Green-faced, shrill, and dripping with malevolence, her portrayal is iconic in a way few villains ever become. In fact, perhaps only Darth Vader can rival her ability to warp an entire franchise around her based on a single movie appearance. Before The Wizard Of Oz entered cinematic history, the Wicked Witch Of The West was something of a minor character in the books – basically a one-and-done antagonist while Dorothy, The Wizard and the other characters went on to have many other adventures in Oz, battling with recurring villains such as the Nome King or Mombi the sorceress. But each subsequent visit to Oz – save one – has increasingly centred on the Wicked Witch of The West and, what’s more, increasingly taken her side – with The Wizard suffering the most in terms of character assassination. Apart from Ruth Plumly Thompson’s follow-on novels and Disney’s box-office bomb Return To Oz, which we’ll cover another day, each subsequent cultural revisit to the land of Oz has shifted the focus. This trend accelerated with the publication of Gregory Maguire’s book Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West a work that sets out to exculpate (and give a name to) the supposedly wicked witch while the musical adaptation which debuted 8 years later went one better and outright redeemed her as a hero all along. Even Oz The Great And Powerful picked up on this change of public perception, radically reimaging the origins of the character but again laying the blame for her supposed wickedness at the feet of others.
Of course, Margaret Hamilton’s portrayal was just one example of the ambition that drove every aspect of The Wizard of Oz’s journey to the big screen. The production of The Wizard of Oz is itself a story worth telling—one filled with studio chaos, multiple directors, casting changes, and a hazardous working environment. It became a source of fascination, rumour, and urban legend, with some of the most infamous and (occasionally apocryphal) tales being the supposed hanging figure in the background of the forest scene, or the dangerous mishaps involving makeup, rickety sets and explosive effects. The intrigue around the film would even go on to inspire movies about its making, such as Under The Rainbow. The movie is famously riddled with the kind of behind-the-scenes drama that Hollywood legends are made of—toxic makeup, injury-prone costumes, and near-disasters that somehow culminated in a seamless, enchanting final product. While it’s easy to romanticise old Hollywood, The Wizard of Oz stands as a testament to the sheer force of will and creativity (and the willingness to ignore some risks) that was often required to bring these celluloid dreams to life, especially in an era before computer-generated wizardry could fix things in post-production.
Yet, beyond its dazzling production values and earnest performances, what keeps The Wizard of Oz alive is its profound cultural legacy. The film remains a powerful symbol and a cultural touchstone within the LGBT community, and the odd synchronicity between the film and Pink Floyd’s album The Dark Side of the Moon—often referred to as ‘Dark Side of the Rainbow’—has become a source of fascination, with many fans enjoying the strange coincidences that align the music and visuals when played together. Lines like “There’s no place like home,” and “I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too!” have become part of the lexicon, instantly recognisable to generations who may not have even seen the film. The movie’s ideas of self-discovery, courage, and the realisation that the power to achieve what you desire lies within you have resonated across decades, influencing countless filmmakers, writers, and dreamers.
Even the Wizard himself – an ironically peripheral figure in the film that bears his name – is an enduring metaphor, a reminder that behind much of what impresses us might be nothing more than a man behind a curtain, working some clever illusions. It’s a startlingly modern observation, one that feels way ahead of its time, addressing the idea that power and authority – and celebrity – are often illusions constructed to keep people in awe. You might say that it accurately predicted and critiqued the as-yet-undreamt-of world of social media. Yet The Wizard Of Oz never feels cynical; the film itself remains steadfastly optimistic, finding joy in friendship, adventure, and the unshakeable belief that, in the end, there really is no place like home.
It’s perhaps impossible to watch The Wizard of Oz now without seeing the ripples it has sent throughout pop culture. With countless parodies, homages, and references in films and television shows, the influence of Oz is undeniable. The movie’s camp, its charm, and its audaciously sentimental core have ensured it remains a beloved touchstone. The fact that the Witch’s cackle and the Munchkins’ songs can still send shivers or bring a smile speaks volumes about the film’s staying power. The Yellow Brick Road has never truly ended; it winds its way through cinema history, cultural consciousness, and into the hearts of each new generation. It’s a journey filled with awe, terror, laughter, and warmth—an invitation to dream beyond the rainbow but to always remember where home lies. With its rich tapestry of unforgettable performances, incredible production design, and simple yet resonant storytelling, The Wizard of Oz isn’t just a classic. It’s a cornerstone of cinema—one that, much like Margaret Hamilton’s unforgettable Witch, continues to enchant, frighten, and delight, refusing to melt away. Far from melting, she – and the film – infused themselves permanently into the fabric of pop culture.
