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Shame on you, Andrew
JUST as I was getting ready to follow the yellow brick road, composer Andrew Lloyd Webber has turned into the Wicked Witch of the West and dropped a house on my dreams.
Actually, to be less dramatic about it, he has pulled out of a television search to find the perfect Dorothy for the West End stage version of the classic film, The Wizard of Oz.
Now I'm not huge fan of reality television shows but having said that, I would cheerfully have tuned in week after week so see a number of hopefuls trying to fill those coveted ruby slippers.
And who wouldn't want to? Surely that must be a dream role for any would-be musical star?
His Lordship apparently has decided, however, that a reality show would only damage his reputation.
He fears he would be accused of drumming up publicity for his Phantom of the Opera sequel, Love Never Dies.
So as a result, devotees of the BBC's 2008 I'd Do Anything will have to wait until 2011 for another reality search for a star show hit.
No one will be as disappointed as the BBC no doubt, since previous hunts for lead stars to sing in West End musicals have pulled in between five and six million viewers at a time.
As a Wizard of Oz fan, well, I'm gutted.
Personally I can't see how the search for Dorothy would have influenced ticket sales for Lloyd Webber's next venture – but at least the goods news for musical fans, is that it will still be made into a West End show.
For me though – and millions of others I suspect – there will be never be anything to touch Victor Fleming's marvellous 1939 film, starring the one and only Judy Garland.
I reckon I was around six when I was taken to the cinema to see it (maybe younger) and I will never forget that first glimpse of the Wicked Witch of the West – what child wouldn't?
There have been many film monsters and baddies since, but nothing to rival the sheer terror that the wonderful Margaret Hamilton brought to the screen.
I had nightmares for weeks.
It's impossible to pick one single highlight: the bit where the film bursts into glorious Technicolor from its first opening scenes ("Well Toto, I guess we're not in Kansas any more"), Garland's rendition of Over The Rainbow, those demonic flying monkeys, the heart-breaking farewell to Oz (especially the tearful goodbyes with the scarecrow) and its final moral message "There's no place like home."
If I was stuck on a desert island with a DVD player, that would be my ultimate choice.
It is also a perennial Christmas favourite, continuing to enchant future generations.
And because of that it wouldn't take a wizard to work out that a musical reality show would have been a massive hit.
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Weather for Halifax
Tuesday 07 February 2012
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