Green is the colour for Sam Raimi’s spirited take on the origins of Oz.

Oz The Great and Powerful was an ambitious attempt to revisit and expand the fantastical world of Oz, a land that has captured imaginations for generations. This time, however, the focus is not on Dorothy, but rather on the origin of the titular Wizard himself. Directed by Sam Raimi, the film takes a very different approach from the surreal and unsettling Return to Oz, returning to a more visually dazzling Oz and a more crowd-pleasing adventure that acknowledges the expectations of a modern audience, particularly in relation to the iconic Wicked Witch of the West.

One of the reasons Return to Oz struggled to connect with audiences can be traced back to the absence of one of the most memorable elements of the 1939 film: the Wicked Witch of the West. Margaret Hamilton’s unforgettable portrayal of the green-skinned villain has become so ingrained in popular culture that her character transcended her relatively minor role in L Frank Baum’s books to become the definitive Ozian antagonist. Her terrifying laugh, her desire for the ruby slippers, and her ominous presence became integral to the mythos of Oz, and without her, Return to Oz felt like it was constantly trying to make up for the absence – and making the same mistake as many superhero sequels do – by increasing the quantity of villains rather than the quality.

Oz The Great and Powerful understands just how vital the Wicked Witch is to the Oz story in the eyes of the general audience. Despite being a prequel that primarily explores the origin story of Oscar Diggs, the conman who would become the Wizard, Raimi’s film is smart enough to realise that the heart of the Oz mythology—at least cinematically—has become intertwined with the Wicked Witch. As such, the film leans heavily into her narrative, crafting an elaborate backstory that involves not one, not two, but three witches: Evanora (Rachel Weisz), Galinda (Michelle Williams) and Theodora (Mila Kunis), with Theodora ultimately transforming into the green-skinned terror audiences have come to expect.

Where Return to Oz dared to venture into darker, more unsettling territory, Oz The Great and Powerful aims to embrace the wonder and spectacle that made the 1939 film a beloved classic. It’s a return to the vivid, dazzling visuals, albeit with the aid of a glut of twenty-first-century CGI. The film bathes Oz in golden hues, vibrant landscapes, and sweeping imagery that recalls the wonder of Dorothy stepping into Technicolor for the first time. Raimi ensures that Oz feels magical again, a place full of both beauty and danger, but always grand in its spectacle.

James Franco takes on the role of the not-quite-so-great-and-powerful Oz, bringing a mix of charm and roguishness to the character. His portrayal highlights the Wizard as a con artist with a good heart—someone who, despite his deceitful nature, genuinely wants to do the right thing once he finds himself caught up in the struggle for Oz. It’s an origin story that strives to humanise the Wizard and show how an ordinary man, with no real magic, can become a figure of hope. Franco’s performance captures both the flaws and the eventual growth of Oscar (one suspects the flaws came easier), making his journey one of reluctant heroism although setting it at odds with most modern revisionist interpretations which have fallen in line with Gregory Maguire’s baleful view of the wizard’s true nature.

Oscar Digg’s Oz may be on a hero’s journey, but it’s in the Wicked Witch’s arc that the film finds it heart, brain and courage. Mila Kunis’ Theodora begins the film as a hopeful, love-struck witch who believes in the goodness of Oscar. Her descent into heartbreak and rage, manipulated by her sister Evanora, is the emotional crux that drives the narrative towards its iconic conclusion. The moment Theodora becomes the Wicked Witch is handled with a mix of theatrical tragedy and Ramian horror flair—a clear nod to the expectations audiences had for seeing how such an iconic villain came to be. By foregrounding her story, Raimi effectively taps into what made the character so captivating in the first place—her depth, her fury, and the sense of betrayal that fuels her malice. The dynamic between the sisters Theodora and Evanora is wonderfully played by Rachel Weisz and Mila Kunis, with the former’s horror as her manipulations of the latter spin wildly out of her control a particular dark delight.

The contrast between Return to Oz and Oz The Great and Powerful is striking. Where Murch’s film stayed true to Baum’s darker, more introspective vision, Raimi’s film sought to recapture the broad appeal and spectacle of the 1939 classic in his own unique style. Both films had their strengths and their shortcomings, but it’s in their treatment of the Wicked Witch that we see why Return to Oz may have struggled. Without the looming, green-skinned menace of the Wicked Witch, Oz felt less complete, as if a crucial part of its magic was missing. Oz The Great and Powerful understood this and, in doing so, leaned into the Wicked Witch’s legacy, acknowledging her as the quintessential villain that audiences wanted to see.

Ultimately, Oz The Great and Powerful may not have the eerie, cult appeal of Return to Oz, nor does it possess the same timeless charm as The Wizard of Oz. However, it succeeds in understanding the mythic quality that the Wicked Witch of the West brings to the table and explored hitherto neglected corners of the magical land. As prequels go, it gave audiences of the day what they wanted: more of the character who has grown to symbolize both the danger and allure of Oz itself. It’s a film that reflects the enduring fascination with the witches of Oz—both good and wicked—and the complex, intertwined destinies of those who inhabit and those who find themselves stranded in this strange, wonderful land of Oz.