Every year when I was a kid, CBS would set aside a two hour block of their usual early eighties high quality programming to show The Wizard of Oz. It happened in March. On a Saturday. Starting at 7 o'clock. So every March, the countdown would begin. First, I would draw a big green palace on my mom's calendar in the blank square that represented the date Oz would come back to me. And then when there were only ten days left I would start to look for the number ten everywhere; on street signs, price tags, etc. Then nine, then eight, then seven, then six, then five, then four, then three, then two, then one. And then there was the dance that would begin in front of the microwave promptly at 6:40 pm, (after I had called the Time Lady and gotten the exact time of course). I would pace back and forth in the kitchen, doing a crazy dance while yelling out "19 MINUTES!" etc until 7:00 pm finally, blessedly, interminably, arrived.
Then my sister and I would watch the show. The black and white parts and Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru were unspeakably boring and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" was the Lame Slow Song, but all that was fine because that was the point. To build the anticipation. To truly appreciate the awesomeness of Oz, we first had to live in the bleakness of Kansas. Then the tornado came. My sister and I would spin around and make wind noises, and then land with a crash on the Witch's head. I'd sing along with the Lollipop guild. We kept one of my great-grandmother's afghan blankets with us and I would hide under it when the witch would come. The blanket had large holes in the pattern and I could see out, still see the evil Witch, but she couldn't get to me or even see me because of the protective spell Glinda/my sister had cast on it. Like Dorothy, I loved the Scarecrow most of all, though I worried that she hurt the other two's feelings when she said it outright like that. I thought it was fascinating when Dorothy and the Lion were put to sleep by the poppies, but Scarecrow and the Tin Man were not. "Surrender Dorothy" scared the shit out of me. But the scariest part, the part that always put knots in my stomach was the beginning of the third act, when the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion went to save Dorothy and the witch's army were marching and doing that "Oh ee oh...ooooh oh" chant. By then the afghan was long discarded. No sense hiding from the Witch anymore. She had to be confronted directly. For some reason, for about three years in a row, I would be distracted or have to run into the kitchen for something or whatever, and I would always miss the scene when the supernatural spirits would lift the Tin Man into the air and drop him back down again and then the Lion would say, "I do believe in spooks. I do I do I do I do I do believe in spooks!" I wouldn't miss the whole scene, just the part where he was lifted into the air. It was incredibly frustrating, but also something to look forward to rectifying next year. The darkest, bleakest moment of the whole movie was when Dorothy looked at Aunt Beru in the crystal ball and saw her sad and alone and then it abruptly switched to the Witch. Chills! Every time.
One year I did something wrong at school that week. I have no memory of the transgression, but apparently it was so great my mother cancelled Oz Day that year, and sent me to bed after dinner. I've still not quite forgiven her.
I read the entire Baum series, including the ghost written ones after he died, and loved each and every one of them. When my cousins Dalyn, David, and Tibor would visit, we would often play "Wizard of Oz" and Dalyn was always Dorothy, and I was the Scarecrow, David was the Tin Man and Tibor was the Lion. When my sister joined in she was the challenging dual role of both Witches.
All that was fun, but nothing compared to that original movie that played once a year like clockwork.
Oz Day was right up there with my birthday and Christmas, really.
In maybe 1983 or 1984, as VCR's were becoming more and more commonplace, my mother thought it would be a special treat for my sister on her birthday to take her to Placer Video and rent her a movie of her choosing. As we didn't have a VCR (which would've set us back around $900), we would have to rent that as well. I walked over to the Family Section in a trance, worked my way over to the W's, and saw it. The Wizard of Oz. In a box. Able to be viewed at any time, no more waiting for March. It was literally what one conceives of when they conceive Heaven. But I didn't get to pick the movie. My mother assured me that six months from now in April, we would return to this magical place, and it would be my turn. After considerable deliberation, sister chose the movie Savannah Smiles, and that was the first movie on tape I ever saw. (Though the renting process required my mother basically give over the deed to our house as collateral and required several lengthy calls to the good people at Placer Video, who patiently talked my mom through the process of hooking up a VCR. Plus, she totally freaked out when it said "FBI Warning". But I digress).
In April, we came back, and I rented Oz. I couldn't believe that I was going to see it again with just a month in between viewings! And no commercials! My mom drove me home and I clutched the tape in my hands, opening and closing the box over and over again, running my fingers along the holes. It was like eating cake for dinner. Like getting to celebrate Christmas whenever you wanted to.
My friends came over, we ate, opened presents, played games, and finally played the movie. I couldn't get out the afghan because my friends were there. I couldn't do the countdown because it wasn't starting at a specific time. I didn't have to worry about missing the scene with Tin Man because we could pause it, which we did, several times, when kids had to go the bathroom. Also, someone's mom came early and my mom just kept playing the movie as the kid left and his mother kept squawking birthday wishes at me. It was wrong. It was just all wrong.
By next March, we had a VCR of our own, and Oz Day came and went with barely a notice. I could already watch it any time I wanted, after all.
Stars: Five out of five.
Next, "Vertigo".
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