Four stars. Rating: PG, and rather generously, for considerable fantasy peril, scary scenes and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.8.13
Disney got it right this time.
The Mouse House’s previous
attempt to sequelize L. Frank Baum — a high-profile release in the summer of
1985 — was a dark and dreary affair, its rich Oz-ian landscape sabotaged by a
grim atmosphere and a level of peril that bordered on child abuse. Opening Return to Oz with a sequence that finds little Dorothy sent to a primitive
psychiatric ward, and nearly subject to electro-shock therapy? What the heck
were the screenwriters thinking?
 |
| Having worked out a plan to steal the wicked witch's magic wand, thus removing her ability to fight back, Oz (James Franco, right) and his two companions — Finley and China Girl — wait for the proper moment to strike. |
Oz, the Great and Powerful, in
pleasant contrast, is a rich, imaginative and droll delight from start to
finish. To be sure, its protagonists face their share of peril — the winged
monkeys were the most terrifying part of 1939’s The Wizard of Oz, and that’s
still true in this new film — but the tone is more appropriately
adventure-scary, rather than psychologically twisted.
More to the point, scripters
Mitchell Kapner and David Lindsay-Abaire — drawing from more of the rich
material in Baum’s 1900 novel, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz — have fashioned a
prequel that cleverly imitates the style and formula established by the beloved
1939 musical, while also laying the groundwork to anticipate key events in that
earlier film’s storyline.
That’s no small accomplishment.
Better still, director Sam Raimi and editor Bob Murawski pace their film
perfectly, alternating essential character development with fantastical
encounters both exhilarating and unnerving.
And — as was the case with Tim
Burton’s recent re-boot of Alice in Wonderland, also for Disney — Raimi
doesn’t slow the pace by pausing and calling attention to Oz’s myriad wonders;
they’re simply present to be enjoyed, if even noticed the first time through. I
predict hot home-video sales and plenty of repeat viewings, in order to spot
and savor everything that production designer Robert Stromberg and visual
effects supervisor Scott Stokdyk have packed into this film.
Heck, when a dozen or so “horses
of a different color” graze quietly in a field — not even noticed by our main
characters, let alone commented upon — you know that we’re in good hands.
The story, set in the early 20th
century, begins roughly a generation before the events in the 1939 film. We’re
once again in a small Kansas community — displayed in time-honored
black-and-white, in a squarish, standard-frame image — this time in the shabby,
sepia-toned “tent city” of a worn and seedy traveling carnival. Its various
sideshow attractions include Oscar Diggs (James Franco), nicknamed Oz, a flashy
stage magician and rake of dubious ethics who likely has a woman at every stop
... with an angry father or husband right behind her.
At this particular town, Oz is
gently confronted by Annie (Michelle Williams), a woman who genuinely loves him
but recognizes his failings; she has come to bid farewell, while telling Oz
that she has accepted a marriage proposal from an honorable fellow named John
Gale (the first point at which our Baum radar goes off). Despite genuine
regret, Oz knows that he cannot change; he worships a dream of puffed-up
“greatness” too much to embrace any charitable or honorable feelings.
One massive Kansas twister later,
Oz — who has tried to escape an angry husband by hopping into the carnival’s
hot-air balloon — has been blown to ... somewhere strange and wondrous. He’s
greeted by Theodora (Mila Kunis), an impressionable young woman who insists
that he is the “wizard of prophecy” who will destroy the wicked witch who has
lain waste to this magical realm. (Cinematographer Peter Deming has shifted now
to glorious, vibrant color and a modern widescreen image.)
Oh, and — just in passing —
Theodora is a witch. Which Oz finds hard to believe, since she’s so sweet and
guileless.
Oz is surprised to learn that he
shares his name with this land of musical flowers, water fairies and ... many
somethings that are large, winged and menacing. He’s perfectly willing to let
Theodora lead him to the Emerald City, assuming there must be a way to work a
few angles once inside its opulent gates.
He’s met within by Theodora’s
sister, Evanora (Rachel Weisz), an equally kind witch who also is troubled by
what has befallen their realm. She reveals Emerald City’s great treasure
chamber — into which Oz dives, much like Scrooge McDuck — and explains that it
can be his to use as he sees fit ... after he finds and defeats the wicked
witch.
And, so, Oz begins his quest,
following a yellow brick road that looks just as it did in the 1939 film. He
gathers companions along the way, of course, starting with an adorable — if
somewhat snarky — little winged monkey in a bellboy’s uniform; this helpful
creature is Finley, voiced by Zach Braff ... who we’ve earlier seen as Oz’s
badly treated assistant, back in Kansas.
The duo becomes a trio after Oz
and Finley find the China Girl, the sole survivor of a terrible attack that has
destroyed everything and everybody else in her fragile little hamlet (the
“Dainty China Country” in Baum’s book, drolly re-christened Chinatown here).
China Girl has her Kansas antecedent as well: a disabled little girl in a
wheelchair (Joey King, still well remembered as Ramona Quimby, in 2010’s Ramona and Beezus), who wishes for legs that work.
This is the point at which Kapner
and Lindsay-Abaire’s script really bares its teeth. The implications of what
has happened in Chinatown, once we understand them, are deeply unsettling ...
as is China Girl’s condition, when she’s introduced. Every moment spent with
this fragile supporting character elicits a state of high anxiety, our hearts
immediately won over by her vulnerability and pluck.
As time passes, Oz, Finley and
China Girl also meet the Munchkins, the Tinkers and other denizens of Quadling
Country, the Ozian realm guarded by Glinda (Williams again), the benevolent
witch who travels in oversized bubbles — here granted a more amusing gelatinous
consistency — that we’ll also recall from the 1939 film.
Indeed, this new adventure echoes
the classic musical’s production and character design in all sorts of ways. The
yellow brick road’s spiraling terminus in Quadling’s town square evokes
pleasant memories of Dorothy beginning her journey, while the Munchkins
themselves — complete with familiar apparel supplied by costume designer Gary
Jones — easily could have stepped from the earlier film’s cast.
Naturally, though, Oz’s quest
proves to have complications, and he begins to appreciate the folly of rash
assumptions ... and the perils of rash behavior.
Franco is appropriately feckless
and smarmy as Oz, inevitably living down to our diminishing expectations of the
man. His smile is cheerfully insincere, his self-aggrandizing manner a constant
disappointment to those — Finley, Glinda — who quickly perceive these failings.
On the other hand, some of
Franco’s line readings are clumsy and superficial, his expressions too
frequently suggesting not sincerity, but condescending, out-of-character
arrogance, as if he can’t believe he’s being forced to utter such “inane”
dialogue. It’s difficult to believe in Oz’s growing maturity as a caring human
being, when all his lines are delivered with the same snickering
superficiality.
Granted, Oz is supposed to be a
jerk ... but there’s a vast difference between Franco adopting the guise of a
jerk, and behaving like one himself. This occasionally rips us from the
delicate emotional intensity of a given situation.
Fortunately, it’s not constant.
Franco deftly handles Oz’s initial encounter with China Girl, for example, and
his growing rapport with Glinda is both amusing and emotionally persuasive.
Weisz chews up the scenery in
style, as the enigmatic Evanora; the actress displays all the panache and
delicious subtlety that Franco too frequently lacks. Kunis initially is
understated — almost muted — as Theodora, but that’s deliberate; once events
ignite this woman’s passion, Kunis gives Weisz a run for her money.
Williams is properly angelic as
the oh-so-honorable Glinda, although the part, as written, doesn’t allow much
depth. Braff and King voice their Ozian characters with spunk; at times, Finley
and China Girl seem far more “real” than their human co-stars.
Able support is provided by Bill
Cobbs, as the Master Tinker; Tony Cox, as Knuck, Evanora’s butler/footman; and
Bruce Campbell, in an eyeblink cameo as the Emerald City gatekeeper.
The various creatures are
marvelously realized, especially the evil winged baboons, needle-sharp teeth
ready to tear and rend, that stand in for the 1939 film’s flying monkeys. These
airborne simians are quite terrifying: rather too much so for the film’s
lenient PG rating, in my view.
Raimi and Deming make excellent
use of the film’s 3D effects, whether in anticipated ways — a volley of spears
coming right at us — or the unexpected thrill as Oz’s deflating hot-air balloon
hurtles down a waterfall. Danny Elfman’s score is among his best, evoking the
best parts of Edward Scissorhands and Alice in Wonderland, while
establishing its own fresh set of character themes.
I note that quite a few of my
critical brethren and sistren seem to be trashing this film, which is both
bewildering and sad; it deserves much better. Granted, Franco’s superficial
performance undercuts the dramatic flow at times, but certainly not to the
point of damaging one of the most entertaining and admirably faithful
big-screen adaptations of Baum’s work.
Just as the citizens of Oz need
to believe in their wizard, we really should believe in Raimi’s adaptation. It
deserves that much.
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