The Wiz is a wonder, if ever a Wiz there was.
A fascinating entry in the cinematic legacy of Oz, The Wiz boldly reimagines L Frank Baum’s classic story through the lens of 1970s African American culture. Directed by Sidney Lumet of all people and featuring a star-studded cast including Diana Ross, Michael Jackson, and Richard Pryor, the adaptation of the celebrated Broadway show stands as both a celebration of creativity and a daring musical spectacle. While its initial critical reception was – deservedly – mixed, and it struggled commercially upon release, the film is worth reappraising with the benefit of hindsight and acknowledging that for many, its uniquely contemporary take on the story of The Wizard of Oz is every bit as foundational and iconic as the 1939 original.
As a film, The Wiz is notable for its ambitious reinterpretation of The Wizard of Oz. This version transports Dorothy out of the rural Kansas farm and into the urban bustle of Harlem, before whisking her away to a stylized, almost dystopian Oz that draws heavily on New York City’s visual and cultural landscape. This change of setting immediately marks the film as something distinct from both Baum’s text and Victor Fleming’s 1939 adaptation. By making Dorothy an adult woman played by Diana Ross, rather than a young girl, The Wiz adds layers of personal struggle and introspection to her journey. Ross’s Dorothy is not simply yearning for something more—she is grappling with adult fears of isolation, uncertainty, and a longing for belonging. Her portrayal, while at times criticized for being subdued, gives the character a more introspective angle that contrasts with the wide-eyed innocence of Judy Garland’s Dorothy and isn’t entirely without merit. Ross, it has to be said, isn’t anywhere near as good an actress as she is a singer so it’s not entirely to The Wiz’s detriment that the production often overwhelms and obscures her.
The production design of The Wiz is one of its most striking elements, leaning into bold visual choices that make Oz a darker, edgier place than audiences were used to seeing. Given the film’s perspective, it’s little surprise to see the political subtext of the source material (L Frank Baum’s works were anything but apolitical) elevated to overt social commentary, albeit one with a weary sense of humour. From the repeated gag of Dorothy being unable to get a taxi to travel the Yellow Brick Road to the Scarecrow (Michael Jackson) being kept firmly in his place by the instructions [laws] of a murder of [Jim] Crows, The Wiz uses its fantastical settings and heroine’s journey to explore the African American experience in modern America. There is an almost post-apocalyptic aesthetic to New-York-as-Oz, where elements of urban decay and surrealism are blended to create a phantastic metropolitan landscape that feels both familiar and unsettling. The film’s vision of Oz is heavily inspired by the gritty realism of 1970s New York with the Yellow Brick Road is a literal golden pathway winding through crumbling streets, and the Emerald City transformed into a glitzy, disco-inspired haven of green-lit (then red-lit) decadence. These artistic choices are emblematic of the film’s intention to reflect a more contemporary, urban experience—one that would resonate with Black audiences in particular. Lumet’s Oz is not an idyllic wonderland but a space that, much like the Harlem Dorothy comes from, is filled with both wonder and struggle. The Munchkins are hidden in graffiti and emerge from urban decay, while the Scarecrow (played by Michael Jackson in a career-boosting early role) is found literally pinned up in a junkyard, speaking to themes of resilience and survival.
As an adaptation of the source material, The Wiz – adapted for the screen by none other than Joel Schumacher – takes considerable liberties, yet these changes are sometimes purposeful and significant. The Broadway show’s musical numbers, composed by Charlie Smalls and others, are infused with jazz, soul, and funk, and supplemented by additional musical content from Quincy Jones which gives the story a vibrancy that feels distinctly different from the operatic, Broadway-like songs of the 1939 classic. Numbers like “Ease On Down the Road” and “Brand New Day” bring an infectious energy to Dorothy’s journey, emphasizing community, perseverance, and joy. These musical reinterpretations are central to how The Wiz carves out its own identity within the Oz canon—it’s not trying to replicate the magic of the original, but rather to craft its own. The Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion are each given moments that highlight struggles that resonate within a marginalized community, and their camaraderie with Dorothy becomes a statement of solidarity in the face of adversity.
Michael Jackson’s performance as the Scarecrow is one of the film’s clear highlights, showcasing his natural charisma and talent as both a dancer and singer. His Scarecrow, with his yearning for knowledge, is portrayed with a touching vulnerability, and his musical performances, particularly “You Can’t Win” – a pointed allegory of systemic oppression – add layers of depth to a character that could have easily become one-dimensional. Nipsey Russell’s Tin Man and Ted Ross’ Cowardly Lion also bring unique charm to their roles, each infusing their characters with a mix of humour and poignancy. Ross came over from the Broadway production – along with Mabel King’s Evillene, The Wicked Witch of the West – to anchor Lumet’s somewhat flat adaptation to a sense of legitimacy given the other casting shenanigans which had taken place to shoehorn Diana Ross into the lead role.
In its visual style and tone, The Wiz proved somewhat divisive however there was far more agreement on the problems with the pacing and cohesion. Weighing in at over two hours, it frequently feels bloated, largely due to the extended dance sequences that, while perfectly adequate are rarely worth dwelling on and contribute to the disjointed nature of the story. The decision to cast Diana Ross, who was significantly older than the teenage Dorothy of both the original story and the stage adaptation, also presented some challenges with her Dorothy lacking the youthful naivety and sense of wonder that made Garland’s performance so iconic. The film’s darker, urban reimagining of Oz was perhaps ahead of its time, and mainstream audiences seemed unsure of how to react to this reinterpretation. At the box office, The Wiz was a disappointment, failing to recoup its considerable budget, which led to it being considered a flop by industry standards.
But The Wiz has always had its ardent admirers and over time it’s undergone something of a critical re-evaluation, if not exactly a redemption. Whatever its artistic merits, it’s deservedly grown in reputation as a significant cultural milestone and an important moment for Black representation in mainstream cinema. Its unapologetic embrace of African American culture, music, and aesthetics makes it a trailblazer, and its influence can be seen in later works that celebrate Black identity through genre storytelling. The film’s reimagining of Oz as an urban landscape filled with both peril and beauty resonates differently today, in an era more receptive to diverse retellings of classic tales while its themes of community, resilience, and self-discovery, framed through the experiences of a Black protagonist in a fantastical yet familiar world, have likewise found a more appreciative audience in recent years.
Many of the musical numbers have also endured, with “Ease On Down the Road” becoming an iconic tune that evokes the film’s spirit of perseverance and optimism. Michael Jackson’s performance can now be seen as a pivotal moment in his career, showcasing his potential as an entertainer beyond the world of boyband pop music. The film’s bold reinterpreting of Oz and its lore would now likely be more widely celebrated, and its flaws—such as some uneven pacing and the occasionally inconsistent tone—should be viewed with a more forgiving lens, recognizing the challenges of adapting such a beloved story and lauded stage musical in such a radically different way.
Ultimately, The Wiz’s destiny may be to remain as a cult favourite and while it may not have the universal acclaim of The Wizard of Oz, it holds a unique and valuable place in the history of the cinematic landscape of L Frank Baum’s creation. Its vision of Oz is one that speaks to a specific cultural experience, and its contribution to the Oz mythos is one of transformation and representation. It dares to make Oz something new, something reflective of the world its audience inhabited, and in doing so, it became a vital part of the evolving legacy of Baum’s magical land.