The Wiz

Background Info. | Michael on The Wiz

Background Information

The Wiz, directed by Sidney Lumet, is a remake of the movie The Wizard of Oz. The film features an all-Black cast with Michael playing the Scarecrow opposite his friend Diana Ross, cast as Dorothy, and Richard Pryor as the Wiz.

The shooting took place at the Astoria Studios in New York in the fall of 1977, before Michael started to work on Off The Wall (released August '79) with Quincy Jones. The film premiered on October 25th 1978 at the Pitt's Century Plaza Theater in Century City, Los Angeles.

Michael received praise from both American film critics and the public, and was predicted a glittering career as an actor. The film itself, however, was slated by many critics, which contributed to slow ticket sales.

The Wiz, the original motion picture soundtrack (released in October '78 in UK), features Michael on six tracks; Ease On Down The Road 3 versions, Brand New Day, Be A Lion and A Brand New Day.

The Wiz is available on videocassette and DVD, and the soundtrack is available on CD.

Michael on The Wiz

Excerpt from Moonwalk, biography published in 1988:

'I auditioned for the part of the Scarecrow because I thought his character best fit my style. I was too bouncy for the Tin Man and too light for the lion, so I had a definite goal, and I tried to put a lot of thoughts into my reading and dancing for the part. When I got the call back from the director, Sidney Lumet, I felt so proud but also a little scared. The process of making a film was new to me, and I was going to have to let go of my responsibilities to my family and my music for months. I had visited New York, where we were shooting, to get the feel for Harlem that The Wiz's story called for, but I had never lived there. I was surprised by how quickly I got used to the lifestyle. I enjoyed meeting a whole group of people I'd always heard about on the other coast but had never laid eyes on.

Making The Wiz was an education for me on so many levels. As a recording artist I already felt like an old pro, but the film world was completely new to me. I watched as closely as I could and learned a lot.

During this period of my life, I was searching, both consciously and unconsciously. I was feeling some stress and anxiety about what I wanted to do with my life now that I was an adult. I was analyzing my options and preparing to make decisions that could have a lot of repercussions. Being on the set of The Wiz was like being in a big school. My complexion was still a mess during the filming of the movie, so I found myself really enjoying the makeup. It was an amazing makeup job. Mine took five hours to do, six days a week; we didn't shoot on Sundays. We finally got it down to four hours flat after doing it long enough. The other people who were being made up were amazed that I didn't mind sitting there having this done for such long periods of time. They hated it, but I enjoyed having the stuff on my face. When I was transformed into the Scarecrow, it was the most wonderful thing in the world. I got to be somebody else and escape through my character. Kids would come visit the set, and I'd have such fun playing with them and responding to them as the Scarecrow.

I'd always pictured myself doing something very elegant in the movies, but it was my experience with the makeup and costumes and prop people in New York that made me realise another aspect of how wonderful film-making could be. I had always loved Charlie Chaplin movies, and no one ever saw him doing anything overtly elegant in the silent movie days. I wanted something of the quality of his characters in my Scarecrow. I loved everything about the costume, from the coil legs to the tomato nose to the fright wig. I even kept the orange and white sweater that came with it and used it in a picture session years later.

The film had marvelous, very complicated dance numbers, and learning them was no problem. But that in itself became an unexpected problem with my costars.

Ever since I was a very little boy, I've been able to watch somebody do a dance step and then immediately know how to do it. Another person might have to be taken through the movement step by step and told to count and put this leg here and the hip to the right. When your hip goes to the left, put your neck over there . . . that sort of thing. But if I see it, I can do it.

When we were doing The Wiz, I was being instructed in the choreography along with my costars - the Tin Man, the Lion, and Diana Ross - and they were getting mad at me. I couldn't figure out what was wrong until Diana took me aside and told me that I was embarrassing her. I just stared at her. Embarrassing Diana Ross? She said she knew I wasn't aware of it, but I was learning the dances much too quickly. It was embarrassing for her and the others, who just couldn't learn steps as soon as they saw the choreographer do them. She said he'd show us something and I'd just go out there and do it. When he asked the others to do it, it took them longer to learn. We laughed about it, but I tried to make the ease with which I learned my steps less obvious.

I also learned that there could be a slightly vicious side to the business of making a movie. Often when I was in front of the camera, trying to do a serious scene, one of the other characters would start making faces at me, trying to crack me up. I had always been drilled in serious professionalism and preparedness and therefore I thought that was a pretty mean thing to do. This actor would know that I had important lines to say that day, yet he would make these really crazy faces to distract me. I felt it was more than inconsiderate and unfair.

Much later Marlon Brando would tell me that people used to do that to him all the time.

The problems on the set were really few and far between and it was great working with Diana so closely. She's such a beautiful, talented woman. Doing this movie together was very special for me. I love her very much. I have always loved her very much.

[. . .]

As much as I liked the old Wizard of Oz, this new script, which differed from the Broadway production in scope rather than spirit, asked more questions than the original movie and answered them too. The atmosphere of the old movie was that of a magic kingdom sort of fairy tale. Our movie, on the other hand, had sets based on realities that kids could identify with, like schoolyards, subway stations, and the real neighborhood that our Dorothy came from. I still enjoy seeing The Wiz and reliving the experience. I am especially fond of the scene where Diana asks, "What am I afraid of? Don't know what I'm made of . . ." because I've felt that way many times, even during the good moments of my life. She sings about overcoming fear and walking straigh and tall. She knows and the audience knows that no threat can hold her back.

My character had plenty to say and to learn. I was propped up on my pole with a bunch of crows laughing at me, while I sang "You Can't Win". The song was about humiliation and helplessness - something that so many people have felt at one time or another - and the feeling that there are people out there who don't actively hold you back as much as they work quietly on your insecurities so that you hold youself back. The script was clever and showed me pulling bits of information and quotations out of my straw while not really knowing how to use them. My straw contained all the answers, but I didn't know the questions.

The great difference between the two Wizards movies was that all the answers are given to Dorothy by the Good Witch and by her friends in Oz in the original, while in our version Dorothy comes to her own conclusions. Her loyalty to her three friends and her courage in fighting Elvina in that amazing sweatshop scene make Dorothy a memorable character. Diana's singing and dancing and acting have stayed with me ever since. She was a perfect Dorothy. After the evil witch had been defeated, the sheer joy of our dancing took over. To dance with Diana in that movie was like an abridget version of my own story - my knock-kneed walk and "bigfoot" spin were me in my early days; our tabletop dance in the sweatshop scene was where we were right then. Everything was onward and upward. When I told my brothers and father I had gotten this part, they thought it might be too much for me, but the opposite was true. The Wiz gave me new inspiration and strenght. The question became what to do with those things. How could I best harness them?

As I was asking myself what I wanted to do next, another man and I were travelling parallel paths that would converge on the set of The Wiz. We were in Brooklyn rehearsing one day, and we were reading our parts out loud to one another. I had thought that learing lines would be the most difficult thing I'd ever do, but I was pleasantly surprised. Everyone had been kind, assuring me that it was easier that I thought. And it was.

We were doing the crows' scene that day. The other guys wouldn't even have their heads visible in this scene because they'd be in crow costumes. They seemed to know their parts backward and forward. I'd studied mine too, but I hadn't said them aloud more than once or twice.

The directions called for me to pull a piece of paper from my straw and read it. It was a quote. The author's name, Socrates, was printed at the end. I had read Socrates, but had never pronounced his name, so I said, "Soh-crates," because that's the way I had always assumed it was pronounced. There was a moment's silence before I heard someone whisper, "Soc-ruh-teeze." I looked over at this man I vagely recognized. He was not one of the actors, but he seemed to belong there. I remember thinking he looked very self-confident and had a friendly face.

I smiled, a little embarrased at having mispronounced the name, and thanked him for his help. His face was naggingly familiar, and I was suddenly sure that I had met him before. He confirmed my suspicions by extending his hand.

"Quincy Jones. I'm doing the score."'

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