What would become “Over the Rainbow,” which I call America’s unofficial national anthem, is referred to as “the Kansas song.” Only a couple of scenes refer to singing, and none of the famous lyrics appear. Plot points abound that are later abandoned (the Wicked Witch of the West has a son named Bulbo?). The differences between this version and the final shooting script? Hardly a page escapes without crossed-out speeches and handwritten substitutions. Ruby slippers worn by Judy Garland’s character Dorothy in the 1939 movie The Wizard of Oz. Langley, the producers clearly felt, would bring to the Depression-era project a keen awareness of adult pomposity as well as a child’s capacity to feel loss and longing. In the first chapter, Aladdin informs his courtiers, “You may dispense with the rising and bowing at the mention of my name, or we’ll never finish.” Echoes of Green Ginger are visible in the script: About halfway through, for example, Langley introduces a parlormaid, Lizzie Smithers, who warns the Wizard against returning a bow too often-or he’ll never complete the exercise. Langley’s fantasy features the Emperor Aladdin, an ordinary fellow presiding over an enchanted realm. Langley, South African-born, was selected as the screenwriter because of his whimsical 1937 children’s book, The Tale of the Land of Green Ginger. Frank Baum’s 1900 novel for children, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
Harburg, who penned “Over the Rainbow,” would refine and polish the story, this draft is the work of Noel Langley.
Though other writers, including lyricist E. The original, in the collections of the National Museum of American History and dated May 4, 1938, consists of about 100 pages. On a recent afternoon in my study, I pored over a photocopy of a touchstone memento from the film-a typewritten studio script. Thanks to MGM’s 1939 film, Dorothy’s adventure in Oz has become a foundation myth of American culture.
Years, too, before I would come up with the idea for a novel, Wicked, which inspired the Broadway musical. It would be years before I saw the Technicolor land of Oz bloom outside Dorothy’s black-and-white farmhouse, as we didn’t have a color TV. The annual television broadcast of The Wizard of Oz was a national ritual when we baby boomers were kids.
In our pajamas, we huddled together under a blanket.
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