The Wizard of Oz

The original film of the Wizard of Oz was re-released to theatres in 1949. Even on its second run it didn't do so well, and only became popular with general audiences years afterwards. Is it a masterpiece? A classic? A piece of crap?

After reading Wicked, the prequel to Dorothy's arrival and a charged political-drama of Oz, I decided to go back to the original text and read what has become a hallmark of American fantasy classics.

The pages of the original book, The Wizard of Oz, would be better spent in my bathroom for cleanup after a trip to the Cheesecake Factory.

It's basically the story of a fag hag and her 3 queens who traverse afar. Its boring, longwinded, and should not be read before operating heavy machinery.

Wicked, in the other hand, is entertaining (albeit looooong). The musical, which shares the same title but hardly the same storyline, is even more titillating (at least for me). And so, perhaps the legend of Oz improves with age.

But there is room for letdown in the wonderful world of Wicked, as was abrasively demonstrated to me in NYC last May. 3 hours prior to every show there is a lottery for front-row tickets (the worse view in the house) at a huge discount. The names of 18 lucky people are drawn; the others are told to screw themselves with a magic broom.

It's like watching an episode of The Price is Right: overweight mid-40s soccer moms squeal with delight, twink queens flit into the air and clap excitedly (yay!!!), even straight men let out of shout of "oh yeah!" (these brownie points could be exchanged for sex at any moment).

After renting a car and driving for hours just to get a glimpse of Glinda and entering the lottery 4 times that weekend, I learned that my luck had been bewitched and nothing could console me.

Except for that cinnamon bun. Oh, and rice pudding. Hmmm ... and a margarita. Oh and a gay porn shop!!! Perhaps I could buy some stilettos, click my heels 3 times, and pretend it all never happened ...