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Wizard of Oz is somewhere over the dog bowl

By Nicholas de Jongh, Evening Standard  30.07.08

It is a rare first night when a small, plump dog threatens to steal scene after scene from talented, human performers by its determined over-acting. That it happened at the premiere of this stage version of The Wizard Of Oz, that supreme, childhood classic and psychological allegory, is thanks to Bobby, the experienced dog-actor in question, who plays the key role of Dorothy's best friend, Toto.

Bobby obviously realised the show needed an injection of eye-catching, canine charisma to save it from chronic torpor and scenic dullness: the musical drags out to an absurdly protracted running-time of 155 minutes and its settings are breathtakingly dull.

Jude Kelly's production certainly has its strengths - though brevity is not one of them. It remains generally faithful to the film's spell-casting plot. It makes subtle alterations in characterpainting: the other-worldly companionsin Oz-land to Sian Brooke's overmature, sturdy rather than fragile Dorothy, are shrewdly saved from the patronising winsomeness of their film counterparts.

Gary Wilmot's blustering, hyper-coward of a lion in search of courage, the appealing Tin Man of Adam Cooper, whose dancing abilities are not restricted by his body armour, and Hilton McRae's melancholy Scarecrow become far more engagingly human companions to Dorothy than the celluloid originals. And Julie Legrand's Wicked Witch of the West, all got-up in traditional black, greenish face, pointy hat, missing teeth and snarling malice, emanates a genuinely chilling evil.

The crucial failure lies elsewhere. Michael Vale's designs are politically pointed. They never offer a theatrical equivalent to the film's dream-like sense of enchantment and magical fantasy. Vale sets the entire action in a Depression Period world of corrugated-iron, of abandoned, dilapidated, industrial machinery and telegraph poles. The film-stills of Kansas are evocative of a run-down environment. "When you buy an automobile you give three months work to someone," proclaims an advertising billboard to the side of the screen above the wide, shallow stage.

Vale's conceit is that Dorothy never really leaves the Kansas farm but remains there, in nightmare's grip. The tornado that hits the farm-stead and should drop her in Oz leaves her in a mildly altered version of home. Now this makes psychological sense for adults, but it will disappoint kids - the musical's target audience. The farm's corrugated iron doors simply turn green to evoke the Emerald City. "Have you ever seen anywhere so beautiful?" asks Dorothy to which the response can only be laughter. The journey to meet Roy Hudd's genial Wizard - conjured up in the film by sinister vistas - here becomes an unthrilling visit to a man in a curtained booth.

The startling transformations that Dorothy witnesses are registered boringly with mundane, computerised drawings on screen. The Wicked Witch relies on big bangs and a bit of smoke to lay stress on her diabolical nature. The familiar songs from Over The Rainbow to We're Off To See The Wizard are transmitted with real ardour. But Dorothy's epic journey remains one which needs and misses the smack of serious magic.

Details are correct at the time of publication - please check with venue before booking.

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