The Wizard of Oz

“Excruciating!”

“I am 84, thank goodness I will never have to see a play like that again before I die!”

“The dog was good!”

These were three comments heard from paying customers walking out of the theatre after the one act self-described ‘radical feminist take’ on the beloved Wizard of Oz.

The company warned patrons to leave children at home, but the thought crossed my mind that if there have been two acts – many in the audience would have gone home early.

The drama began with a bleak stage that was starkly lit.  There were the bare walls of the Belvoir Theatre, a glass capsule that was Dorothy’s tornado strewn farm house and on the ground a dead topless wicked witch of the east.

She was the first of three topless women in the production, including a character that has her breasts strapped, apparently in an allusion to Judy Garland having to do the same, in the famous movie musical production to make herself look more like a girl.

It begin with promise. The lighting, set and music was confronting and impressive.

First Dorothy meets a genuinely scary looking Scarecrow, a stylised Tin Man and there was a hint of wit from Paul Capsis as the Lion.

Then it lost a clear narrative thread. Is that the Wizard of Oz or the Wicked Witch of the West? Why is that woman being molested? Why is Dorothy’s farm house twirling around on a tornado half way through the play?

Many in the audience were bamboozled.  

The director, Adena Jacobs, explained that “this work was made in conjunction with the designers and performers who have all been integral to the conception of the work.”

So a committee put it together. It showed. No wonder it felt and looked indulgent.

David Spicer

Photographer: Brett Boardman.