The Wickedness of Oz

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When I was a kid, I remembered watching “The Wizard of Oz.” I loved this move. There was something about it that always seemed to take me away to another place…not a place you get to by boat or train. It’s far, far away. Behind the moon, beyond the rain…

Maybe it was also from the fact that The Wizard of Oz only came on once—maybe twice a year that made it so captivating. We’d make popcorn, grab blankets, and settle down on the living room floor to enjoy this tale of a young girl whisked away from all that she knew and loved, to literally go on a whirlwind adventure. In fact, even after we’d recorded it on videocassette, we’d still find ourselves watching it on TV, commercials and all…

What can I say? There was just something about this movie that was captivating.

Now, fast-forward a slew of years to the present time.

This past summer I took a trip to New York for a week to visit my brother and his wife. During that time I had many opportunities to see the sights, and have some great experiences. One of the things I was able to do was to see ‘Wicked’ at the Gershwin Theatre.

Entering this building was magical. I found myself spellbound as I took a seat next to complete strangers whom—after a few minutes—didn’t seem so strange, after all were all there to share a common experience.

At a signal from the conductor, the orchestra struck the first chords of the overture, which hushed the talking of the crowd. The lights dimmed, signifying that the production was about to begin. As the music rose and climaxed, the lights ignited the stage, and I found myself slipping away into a not-so-familiar memory.

The story that was being laid out was not exactly the one that I’d remembered.

I found myself drawn into the exchange between the wicked witch of the west, Elphaba, and Glenda, the good witch of the north. The play began to unfold, telling the story of their unlikely friendship, and their differing points of views on the society known as Oz.

As the play continued, I found that my own perspective was beginning to change. In many ways, it was like that moment when somebody told you additional news that altered your original thought processes toward a particular situation. You found yourself discovering things you were never privy to, simply because you weren’t allowed to know those subtle bits of information which then change everything…suddenly, you found that you understood; you realized why a person did what they did.

It wasn’t long before the witch, who’d previously been one of my least-favorite characters, was rapidly becoming my favorite…and it was all from being allowed to see things from another vantage point; from a precipice from which I’d never before been allowed.

When the production was over, I sat alone in the theatre for a few minutes, sorting out the two stories—one from my childhood, and one from the here and now; both the same, yet with vast differences between them.

Soon, an usher notified me that I’d need to leave as there was another showing, and they were about to begin seating. I stood and made my way to the exit where I found the bustling streets of New York awaiting me.

As I made my way toward Broadway Avenue, I realized that there were certain things in this world that looked different to me now. I would like to think, that in some small way, that I have been changed as well—for good.

And, if you're interested…here is this, and this. However, whatever you do…don't click on this one.

Finally, as for the photos on this page, I sadly only took one of them. The rest were pilfered from the Internet. Of course, it would happen that I couldn't find the reference sheet I'd made so I couldn't tell you exactly where I found them all from. Of course, I could re-look them up, but I'm lazy...