The Wiz Review: Ease (Back) on Down the Road

The Wiz gets the spotlight it long deserved in a 4K debut via Criterion that restores the magic of this visionary musical.

Decades later, experiencing Oscar-winning director Sidney Lumet‘s 1978 musical adaptation of L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz in Criterion’s newly released sparkling 4K UHD is like rediscovering a long-lost favorite through fresh eyes. It’s still bloated, tonally disjointed, and frequently misdirected, but it’s also glorious in its ambition, historic in its representation, and one of the most visually and musically inventive films of its era. This isn’t just nostalgia talking. The Wiz remains a revolutionary piece of American cinema, even as its execution falters.

Adapted from the groundbreaking 1975 Broadway sensation that won seven Tony Awards, The Wiz transplants Dorothy from rural Kansas to urban Harlem. Here, shy 24-year-old schoolteacher Dorothy (Diana Ross, Lady Sings the Blues) lives with her Aunt Em (Theresa Merritt) and Uncle Henry (Stanley Greene) until a snowstorm whisks her and her dog Toto into the urban fantasia of Oz. Her arrival destroys the Evermean, Wicked Witch of the East, earning her silver shoes and setting her on a funkified yellow brick road journey.

Along the way, she meets the Scarecrow (Michael Jackson), the Tin Man (Nipsey Russell, Car Wash), and the Cowardly Lion (Ted Ross, reprising his Tony-winning stage role). The quartet ‘ease on down the road’ toward the chic Emerald City (at Lincoln Center) and the mysterious Wiz (Richard Pryor, Silver Streak). Along the way, they dance through haunted subways, evade the seductive Poppy Girls, and battle Evillene, the Wicked Witch of the West .

It was a given that a musical of such impact would make its way from the stage to the screen. Charlie Smalls’ songs and William F. Brown’s book reimagined L. Frank Baum’s classic through contemporary African-American culture, creating something genuinely groundbreaking for Broadway that easily transferred to mainstream Hollywood. While recent hits Grease and Thank God It’s Friday targeted white audiences with disco sensibilities that same year, The Wiz took a different approach. It wove together gospel, blues, soul, and R&B—genres that unequivocally represent Black musical traditions. Songs like “Everybody Rejoice” and “Ease on Down the Road” feel more like rallying cries than simple traveling tunes, infusing familiar narrative beats with cultural specificity that were game-changing for its time.

The casting draws justified criticism and unfair attacks in equal measure. Diana Ross was slammed for being too old at 34, though she brought genuine vulnerability and strength to Dorothy’s journey from a timid teacher to a confident leader. Already an Oscar nominee at that time, her acting shines brightest during the quieter moments when the camera pushes in close, making Dorothy’s growth believable and not just part of a story we all know the end of. After watching her nail “Home,” the skyrocketing solo that ends the film, in one magnificent, tear-stained take, I can’t imagine how any naysayers could be left sitting in their seats. Jackson proves predictably magnetic as the Scarecrow, his natural charisma cutting through elaborate makeup while delivering “You Can’t Win” (newly written for him) with the electric vocal dexterity that forecasted global superstardom.

A well-known comedian, Russell offers soulful, sentimental depth as the Tin Man, while Ted Ross (no relation to Diana) provides grand comic relief as Lion. The elaborately made-up and costumed King makes Evillene memorably menacing with “Don’t Nobody Bring Me No Bad News,” a true showstopper bouncing with the appropriate amount of theatrical energy. Jazz singer Thelma Carpenter as Miss One the Good Witch of the North kicks off the fun when Dorothy gets to Oz, and it’s a shame she doesn’t get a second scene later on. The film opens with a stirring gospel musing on family, and Merritt’s voice is as emotive as her acting. Appearing in the final ten minutes, Lena Horne’s Glinda is worth the wait. She delivers the penultimate track, “If You Believe,” with such transcendent power that her performance alone makes this essential viewing. It’s so singular that you’ll forgive every technical shortcoming that came before.

And you’ll need to forgive quite a bit. Lumet, brilliant with gritty New York dramas like 12 Angry Men and Dog Day Afternoon, feels entirely out of his depth directing musicals. Though his cast is top-notch, the staging is stiff and off the mark. There’s little in the way of innovation from a directorial point of view, almost like Lumet took the job to avoid saying yes to something else. Cinematographer Oswald Morris exacerbates Lumet’s lack of fluidity with close-ups during elaborate dance sequences and ultra-wide shots on solos. Editor Dede Allen could have corrected some of this in the editing, but instead, Allen’s cutting works against the musical’s natural rhythms. When performers hit their biggest notes, the camera cuts away; when choreography peaks, we’re too close to appreciate the movement’s full scope. It’s one of the most frustrating musicals to watch because the biggest draws, the singing and dancing, are routinely undercut by the filmmakers.

Yet the spirit of The Wiz shines through Quincy Jones’ bold, joyous production of the soundtrack. Jones’s fantastic work adapting Charlie Smalls’ music gives the film its pulse, and the score remains undeniably infectious. Even the addition of a sultry Emerald City sequence staged outside the famous Metropolitan Opera building is made more dazzling by Jones’s contribution. The sequence—part fashion show, part music video fever dream—pulses with funky, gospel-infused rhythms. That small section alone has influenced everything from Beyoncé’s visual albums to Pose. This is Afrofuturism before the term gained traction, centering Black expression in a major studio musical when Hollywood rarely offered such opportunities.

Criterion’s new release corrects years of murky home video with a crisp transfer and contextual extras that add essential insight. Colors pop (the yellow brick road has never looked so buttery), and finer details previously dulled on older transfers are clean and clear, allowing me to see things I’d never caught before. Also outstanding is the soundtrack, which positively thumps with fresh clarity. This version of The Wiz may not convert the skeptics, but it just might remind the faithful why they believed in the first place. The Wiz wasn’t the success Universal hoped for, but for generations of viewers, it was everything they needed. Now, in 4K, its power to move and inspire proves stronger than ever.

Initially a disappointment at the box office, The Wiz has gone on to earn genuine cult classic status. A live TV version in 2015 was one of the highlights of NBC’s attempt to reinvigorate that shared television experience, and a recent Broadway revival is back on tour throughout the U.S. My first memory of The Wiz onstage was a bus and truck tour in the mid-’90s starring Grace Jones as an S&M-coded Evileene. The Wiz represents a pivotal chapter in Black cinema history, one where the stage and screen converged to celebrate a cultural vision that hadn’t yet been afforded this kind of budget or visibility. There’s tremendous power in experiencing a film that unapologetically celebrates Black culture, music, and spirit.

The Wiz is now available to watch on digital and on demand, on DVD & Blu-Ray, and in Criterion’s newly released 4K UHD.

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