On the 75th anniversary of The Wizard of Oz, the Academy Awards paid respect to the golden age classic with a heartfelt rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" sung by pop-star Alecia Moore, otherwise known as Pink. The tribute comes not without a subtle hint of irony.
What song could possibly better illustrate the state of our nation's conscious than one about a naive teenaged girl from rural Kansas staring beyond the tumbleweeds into a utopian fantasy land where "bluebirds fly" and "troubles melt like lemon drops." The land she sings of turns out to be the not-so-merry old land of Oz, a land she arrives in not through a majestic leap "over the rainbow," but rather through the strident tussles of a virulent tornado, dropping her house square on the head of a despotic sorceress.
She emerges from her house to find a world populated with low esteemed, little Munchkins, eager to worship the ground she walks on. Dorothy has done nothing remotely praiseworthy beyond coincidentally landing her house on a total stranger, and yet she's practically already been crowned queen. Of course, the Munchkins could just be overreacting to their tyrant's downfall, but the question lingers if any of them actually think for themselves.
In a land of flying monkeys, talking scarecrows, and limitless magic, why did none of the Munchkins think to stage a successful uprising against their malevolent dictator, instead opting to impassively wait for a guileless farm girl to drop from the sky? They seem perfectly capable of self-governance with a studious mayor, a well-rounded respect for legal proceedings, and what looks to be a fairly organized military, and given that this "wicked witch" could so easily have been disposed of at the mere drop of a house, it seems perfectly logical to assume the tools necessary to plant the seeds of freedom were well within their grasp. Why then endure such utterly nonsensical oppression for so long?
Perhaps the answer lies in the character of Glinda, the supposed "good witch of the North," a worthless deus ex machina in flashy garments who helps her underlings by using her power only when she's far removed from danger, just enough to help them get by but not enough so that they truly prosper, creating a state of infantile dependency. She gets the benefit of being regarded as "great and powerful" while giving them absolutely nothing in return.
The Munchkins never overthrew their oppressor because lurking beneath the glowing facade of the "merry old land of Oz" is a lie packaged and sold to them since birth, that they can do nothing without the power of their leaders. That very well could be why the Munchkins' only offered solution to Dorothy getting back home is that she follow a conveniently plotted yellow brick road to see a Wizard they vaguely describe as a man who does "wonderful things." It matters little to them what those "things" actually are just as long as they're billed as "wonderful."
Thankfully, the story focuses not on the pitiful Munchkins, blind to their miserable existence that can only be described as voluntary slavery, but on Dorothy, who after following the yellow brick road to see that "wonderful Wizard of Oz" discovers a charlatan, a huckster, a third-rate con-man behind a wall of smoke and mirrors who the citizens of Oz blindly look upon to provide what they should be providing for themselves.
Dorothy's the spectator at the puppet show, bored by all the strings, hungering for a dose of reality, because "somewhere over the rainbow" lies a land of self-annihilating absurdity. Hence, "somewhere over the rainbow" becomes "there's no place like home," and after three clicks of the heels, Dorothy awakens in her bed realizing it was all just a dream, a phase. Hopefully, Americans will do the same.
As for the Munchkins, the vacuum of power created by the death of their former ruler will surely yield to the rise of yet another tyrant, and soon enough, they'll be back staring up at those clouds again, waiting for that next house to fall.
On the 75th anniversary of The Wizard of Oz, the Academy Awards paid respect to the golden age classic with a heartfelt rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" sung by pop-star Alecia Moore, otherwise known as Pink. The tribute comes not without a subtle hint of irony.
What song could possibly better illustrate the state of our nation's conscious than one about a naive teenaged girl from rural Kansas staring beyond the tumbleweeds into a utopian fantasy land where "bluebirds fly" and "troubles melt like lemon drops." The land she sings of turns out to be the not-so-merry old land of Oz, a land she arrives in not through a majestic leap "over the rainbow," but rather through the strident tussles of a virulent tornado, dropping her house square on the head of a despotic sorceress.
She emerges from her house to find a world populated with low esteemed, little Munchkins, eager to worship the ground she walks on. Dorothy has done nothing remotely praiseworthy beyond coincidentally landing her house on a total stranger, and yet she's practically already been crowned queen. Of course, the Munchkins could just be overreacting to their tyrant's downfall, but the question lingers if any of them actually think for themselves.
In a land of flying monkeys, talking scarecrows, and limitless magic, why did none of the Munchkins think to stage a successful uprising against their malevolent dictator, instead opting to impassively wait for a guileless farm girl to drop from the sky? They seem perfectly capable of self-governance with a studious mayor, a well-rounded respect for legal proceedings, and what looks to be a fairly organized military, and given that this "wicked witch" could so easily have been disposed of at the mere drop of a house, it seems perfectly logical to assume the tools necessary to plant the seeds of freedom were well within their grasp. Why then endure such utterly nonsensical oppression for so long?
Perhaps the answer lies in the character of Glinda, the supposed "good witch of the North," a worthless deus ex machina in flashy garments who helps her underlings by using her power only when she's far removed from danger, just enough to help them get by but not enough so that they truly prosper, creating a state of infantile dependency. She gets the benefit of being regarded as "great and powerful" while giving them absolutely nothing in return.
The Munchkins never overthrew their oppressor because lurking beneath the glowing facade of the "merry old land of Oz" is a lie packaged and sold to them since birth, that they can do nothing without the power of their leaders. That very well could be why the Munchkins' only offered solution to Dorothy getting back home is that she follow a conveniently plotted yellow brick road to see a Wizard they vaguely describe as a man who does "wonderful things." It matters little to them what those "things" actually are just as long as they're billed as "wonderful."
Thankfully, the story focuses not on the pitiful Munchkins, blind to their miserable existence that can only be described as voluntary slavery, but on Dorothy, who after following the yellow brick road to see that "wonderful Wizard of Oz" discovers a charlatan, a huckster, a third-rate con-man behind a wall of smoke and mirrors who the citizens of Oz blindly look upon to provide what they should be providing for themselves.
Dorothy's the spectator at the puppet show, bored by all the strings, hungering for a dose of reality, because "somewhere over the rainbow" lies a land of self-annihilating absurdity. Hence, "somewhere over the rainbow" becomes "there's no place like home," and after three clicks of the heels, Dorothy awakens in her bed realizing it was all just a dream, a phase. Hopefully, Americans will do the same.
As for the Munchkins, the vacuum of power created by the death of their former ruler will surely yield to the rise of yet another tyrant, and soon enough, they'll be back staring up at those clouds again, waiting for that next house to fall.
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