There are a multitude of differences between the Wonderful Wizard of Oz (Baum, 1900) and The Wizard of Oz (MGM, 1939). What is kept and what is changed is interesting because it modifies the meaning and philosophy of the story. This is most evident in the differing resolutions between the two mediums.
The three most intriguing changes from the book to the movie are the climax/denouement, Dorothy’s reason for wanting to go home and the Wizard’s speech when he gives the cast their rewards. These changes make the movie significantly different from its source text.
If you look at the structure of the book, there is a series of events loosely connected by Dorothy’s quest to get home; for the most part, the adventures are short, self-contained and never mentioned again. For example, the stork carrying the Scarecrow across the river is incidental to the main quest to get to the Wizard of Oz, as is the incident with the Kalidahs. For all intents and purposes, there is no main villain, no great evil to fight against for the vast majority of the book. There is only the quest (and sub-quests) to get home.
Not so in the The Wizard of Oz; from the very start of the film we are introduced to the green-skinned harpy of the east, a screeching, cackling maniac hell-bent of sabotaging the ensemble before they ever get close to the Wizard. Unlike The Wonderful Wizard of Oz’s short, fat and eyepatch’d witch, the witch of the movie is immediately introduced and Dorothy set opposite her.
What does this do for the movie? Perhaps most clearly it gives the audience a concrete central conflict early on. Instead of a series of meandering, adventurettes, the movie can now flow smoothly from beginning to end without being constantly distracted by its own quirkiness. The resolution is also more satisfying, for the dual reasons that the tension has been building against the witch throughout the movie and the denouement does not go on for hours as it does in the book. In the end, the more coherent and cohesive movie (in the words of Salman Rushdie) actually improves on the book from a narrative point of view.
Taking another leaf from Salman Rushdie’s book, the premise that there is “no place like home” may seem odd at first glance. Rushdie’s logic is that the conservative homily at the end of a radically enabling piece is disingenuous, a definite contradiction to earlier explorations of self-reliance and solidarity. The Dorothy of the book says something that would have fit much better in the movie: “Take me home to Aunt Em!” In light of the crystal ball scene where Professor Marvell invents a tale of Aunt Em crying and the mirror scene in the Wicked Witch’s crystal ball, Dorothy’s need to see Aunt Em again has much more credence than some vague maxim on the value of home.
The wizard’s character has a slightly different problem; in the movie they call the white-haired old man a “humbug” and leave it at that. “Humbug” means a hoax or a jest; the famous line from Ebenezer Scrooge is his opinion of the Christmas season in general.
But in the book, the wizard takes it one step farther, and explicitly states to the audience that he has no power to give the companions anything they do not already possess. The distinction between the movie and the book is the Wizard’s reflection on this strange phenomena; in the movie he is quick to point out that professors have no more brains than the scarecrow, the lion has no less courage than a soldier, and the tin man has no less heart than a philanthropist. His gift-giving seems to satisfy some deep-seated need for recognition in all of them.
The book takes this one step farther. When the wizard is about to give the gifts, he reflects on this strange bit of magic, the only kind he really possesses: the Wizard has the ability to unlock people’s true potential. It is with a strange kind of wonder that he watches himself give them what they have always had, and what he says he himself is incapable of giving.
The more explicitly stated philosophy works slightly better in the book (though your mileage may vary), especially when one considers the strange and not entirely necessary strings of sub-plots. In the movie it takes a bit of a leap for the audience to come to the same conclusion, though that in itself isn’t an entirely terrible thing; it might actually be that the movie’s reveal of the inherent qualities of the 3 companions has a much stronger resonance because it’s subtle delivery.
Adaptations seem to do better when they’re not taken word-for-word from the text. The editing decisions for the Wizard of Oz were solid, rational ones. However, it’s important to consider how they change the nature of the characters, the philosophy and the plot when the transition from text to screen is made.
If I had one wish though, I’d use the ruby slippers to vanish Toto. I still can’t stand that furry pile of yap.
