#TheWiz #DianaRoss #LenaHorne #MichaelJackson #QuincyJones #SidneyLumet #StephanieMills
Forty years after its original release, no film has uniquely defined black culture and shaped the framework of a musical genre quite like âThe Wiz.â
An adaptation of the groundbreaking Broadway musical â itself a retelling of L. Frank Baum's classic 1900 children's fantasy âThe Wonderful Wizard of Ozâ that became the beloved Judy Garland movie â the Sidney Lumet-directed film had a rapturous soundtrack produced by Quincy Jones, a cast that included Diana Ross, Michael Jackson, Lena Horne, Nipsey Russell, Mabel King and Richard Pryor and an aesthetic firmly rooted in black culture.
For a generation of black Americans, this was the first time they saw people who spoke, sung and moved the way they did in a Broadway production and, later, a big-screen musical, and it has become a kind of rite of passage for the black community.
Everyone remembers their first time experiencing âThe Wiz.â If itâs the stage production, that likely came from performing it in high school or seeing a touring troupe tackle it, but the film is the most accessible entry into the all-black retelling of âThe Wizard of Oz.â Many of us recall watching it with family during the holidays, huddled around the TV and singing the tunes.
What was revolutionary about âThe Wiz,â first in the original Broadway production and then amplified by Jonesâ work on the splashy film version, was its songbook?
âGreaseâ had arrived to big screens months earlier, as did âThank God Itâs Fridayâ (which, like âThe Wiz,â was a Motown production), but those musicals pulled heavily from the world of disco and were tailored toward white audiences.
âThe Wiz,â however, weaved together gospel, blues, soul and R&B â genres that are unequivocally black creations â and were narratives of the black experience, an especially bold move given Hollywoodâs monochromatic palette.
It bombed upon its release on Oct. 24, 1978 (it cost more than it earned and critics dismissed it as a saccharine, poor imitation of its Broadway predecessor), but that didnât matter to audience members who were seeing themselves reflected on screen in ways they hadnât before.
To understand itâs power, letâs rewind to 1972. It was then that New York disc jockey Ken Harper, inspired by the dominance of the Motown sound, imagined a take of Baumâs epic fantasy that distilled the tale through a black lens.
He got the backing of Fox â in exchange for first option for film rights, publishing rights and album rights â and in 1974 the "The Wiz: The Super Soul Musical 'Wonderful Wizard of Oz"' opened in Baltimore, before hitting Broadway the following year.
âThe Wizâ weathered a ballooning budget, mixed reviews, technical hiccups, sluggish ticket sales and the constant threat of closure to become a sensation that earned seven Tony Awards, including best musical, and a multimillion-dollar adaptation from Motown and Universal, who grabbed the rights from Fox.
Both the stage and film productions of âThe Wizâ have a common theme: the perseverance of the black American dream despite mighty odds. But where the original stage production uses Dorothyâs journey home from the Land of Oz to explore slavery, emancipation, the great migration and faith, the film updates it to a post-Civil Rights era.
Rural, turn-of-the-century Kansas in Baumâs version became contemporary Harlem. Now our heroine is an introverted Harlem schoolteacher that has never been south of 125th Street. Emerald City is a slick urban core brimming with temptations and the Winkies are, in effect, the poor working class stuck under the thumb of a slave-driving tyrant.
âThe Wizâ is foremost a story of racial liberation, and an early piece of Afrofuturism â the combination of science fiction, fantasy, magic realism and ancient African tradition that critiques historical events or envisions a black future, inspiring such recent groundbreaking films as âGet Outâ and âBlack Pantherâ â but what has cemented its cult status is the music and movement seen onscreen.
Its dance numbers incorporated traditional movement from the African diaspora with ballet, jazz and modern movement that has defined black dance â the âEmerald City Sequenceâ alone has informed everything from the black queer ballroom scene to BeyoncĂ© and the music has shaped R&B for decades.
The original production launched the formidable Stephanie Mills (the original Dorothy, she lost the film role after Ross pulled a power play with the studio) to R&B stardom. It was the first time Jones collaborated with Jackson, then a 19-year-old looking to break away from the Motown sound. âOff the Wallâ was released 10 months after âThe Wiz,â the album inspired by Jacksonâs time in New York frequenting Studio 54 and getting exposed to percolating hip-hop scene during downtime from filming.
When Whitney Houston made her television debut in 1983 on âThe Merv Griffin Show,â she sang the musicalâs soaring number âHomeâ â her mother, gospel legend Cissy Houston, has an uncredited role in the film â and the internet is rife with a litany of talents covering the song when they were young, most notably Jazmine Sullivan and BeyoncĂ©, who kicked off her provocative Coachella performance with a wink to âThe Wizâ (those opening horns are lifted right from the âEmerald City Sequence,â a definitive performance in the film).
BeyoncĂ© and Sullivan â like this writer â are part of a generation not yet alive when âThe Wizâ originally debuted. It was a cornerstone of our parentsâ teenage years in which they were seeing expressions of themselves through a wave of blaxploitation films, and has been a definitive experience for black theater kids for decades now.
It made sense, then, that NBC decided to mark the original productionâs 40th anniversary in 2015 by mounting a live TV event that doubled down on the showâs affirmation of black life at a moment when antiblack rhetoric and violence against black bodies fill news cycles.
While âHomeâ is the tune that has undoubtedly cemented the lasting legacy of âThe Wiz,â a more potent flourish of the musicalâs greatness comes through the jubilant âEverybody Rejoice.â
The Luther Vandross-penned song comes after our heroine has killed the tyrannical Wicked Witch of the West, freed the Winkies and saved her new pals Tinman, Cowardly Lion, and Scarecrow.
Itâs a spirited celebration of freedom, but âThe Wizâ has always meant something else for us and âEverybody Rejoice,â like âYou Canât Win,â âDonât Nobody Bring Me No Bad Newsâ and the filmâs other centerpiece, âEase on Down the Road,â feels more like a rallying cry culled from the tradition of Negro spirituals.
Listen closely and you can hear Nipsey Russell proudly shouts "Free at last!â â a literal call back to the mighty words of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.
The lyrics of âEverybody Rejoice,â feel as vital today as it did then.
âWe always knew that we'd be free somehow, In harmony / And show the world that we've got liberty ... Freedom, you see, has got our hearts singing so joyfully ...Can't you feel a brand new day?â
By GERRICK D. KENNEDY OCT 24, 2018