Over the Rainbow

On this lazy Sunday, with a bad headache, lady cramps and a humid grey sky I know there is only one thing to do.. put on my favourite movie. 

I still remember the first time I ever sat down to watch The Wizard of Oz.  It was 1989, I was 5 years old in and my Father was pleased as punch at the purchase of our very first VCR.  And the first video he rented was the tale of young Dorothy Gale and her dream to go over the rainbow.

Too young to understand much of it, I loved the songs and the cast of sidekicks.  Today, 22 years later I love the kitch production quality, the references to opium and occasional sly adult remarks, the history of the film and the magical moment when life turns to vivid colour.  

L. Frank Baum was on to something.  He wrote the Oz series of books in the late 19th Century, and 40 years later MGM strapped down Judy Garland’s boobs, hired some drunken midgets, loaded up the Technicolour and made possibly the greatest film of all time.

I think, at some stage or other we’ve all wanted to click our heels three times and we’ve all had the occasional wistful longing that somewhere, over the rainbow, life is a little bit brighter. 

When conversation turns to film, as it frequently does, not once since I was 5 has my answer to the question “What’s your favourite film” changed.

The Wizard Of Oz. Always.