Title: The Wizard of Oz
Release date: 25 August 1939
Starring: Judy Garland, Frank Morgan, Ray Bolger
Director: Victor Fleming
Synopsis: After a tornado whisks her away to the magical land of Oz, young Dorothy must find her way home — meeting unforgettable friends and learning the true meaning of courage, heart, and home.
Reviewed by: Jasmine
A Timeless Tale of Imagination, Heart, and the Meaning of Home
There are some films that exist beyond the screen. The Wizard of Oz isn’t just a movie — it’s a memory passed down like a lullaby, a shared language across generations, and a warm reminder that even the strangest journeys can lead us home.
Released in 1939 and directed by Victor Fleming, this timeless story has woven itself into the cultural fabric in a way that few films have. Its colours, characters, and music feel as if they’ve always existed — like childhood stories that never fade. And at the heart of it all is a girl in a gingham dress, played with remarkable sincerity by Judy Garland.
Garland’s Dorothy is the beating heart of the film. She sings “Over the Rainbow” with a longing so pure and aching that it sets the tone for everything to come. Her eyes brim with wonder, innocence, and a subtle sadness. She doesn’t want adventure—she just wants to feel safe, to be seen, to belong. It’s that universal yearning that makes the film so enduring.
The moment the black-and-white world of Kansas bursts into Technicolor remains one of cinema’s most magical transitions. It’s more than a visual trick — it’s an invitation into imagination, one that still sparks awe today. From the golden glow of the Yellow Brick Road to the shimmering greens of Emerald City, every frame feels handcrafted with care.
Dorothy’s companions — the Scarecrow (Ray Bolger), the Tin Man (Jack Haley), and the Cowardly Lion (Bert Lahr) — aren’t just comic relief. They each reflect parts of ourselves that we’re constantly trying to improve. Intelligence, heart, courage — the film gently reminds us that these qualities were within them all along, just as the power to return home was always in Dorothy’s shoes.
And then there’s the Wizard himself — a towering figure who turns out to be just a man behind a curtain. The metaphor is quiet but powerful: sometimes the things we fear or admire most are not what they seem, and true wisdom comes from seeing past the illusion.
Even the film’s villain, the Wicked Witch of the West, is less a character and more an embodiment of every fear that threatens to steal our sense of wonder. Her presence is terrifying to young audiences, but ultimately, like all bad dreams, she melts away when faced with truth and courage.
The music of The Wizard of Oz is another reason it endures. “If I Only Had a Brain,” “We’re Off to See the Wizard,” and, of course, “Over the Rainbow” are more than just songs — they are emotional signposts that guide the film’s heart. Each melody is crafted with the kind of simplicity and warmth that lingers long after the credits roll.
But what makes this film truly special is its quiet message. Home isn’t just a place. It’s where we’re understood. Where we’re safe. Where the people who love us are waiting — whether that’s Auntie Em or someone we haven’t met yet. And even though Dorothy’s journey takes her through a strange and sometimes frightening world, it brings her closer to understanding herself and the strength she already had.
Gentle and luminous, this film reminds us that even the wildest adventures are really journeys inward.
The Wizard of Oz may be fantastical, but its power lies in its tenderness. It doesn’t scream its morals — it sings them softly, like a lullaby you hum on a stormy night. It reminds us that imagination is worth cherishing, that kindness matters, and that, more than anything, we’re all just searching for home in our own way.
