Oz, the Civil War and John Hughes films: Books read

Dark Oz has been a thing since at least the 1970s — nothing’s edgier than taking a cute childhood story and making it dark, right? — but that doesn’t mean it can’t work. Return to Oz is a terrific film, for instance and The Oz Encounter makes for a great book. With that in mind I picked up DOROTHY MUST DIE by Danielle Paige a while back but it doesn’t work at all.Protagonist Amy is an outcast teen living with her drug-addicted Mom in a Kansas trailer park; she’s so much an outcast that teen moms in her school get more respect. When a tornado hefts the trailer up and drops it in Oz, Amy discovers it’s a dark, twisted version (I’m thinking inspired by Wicked but that’s only a guess) where Dorothy returned after the movie and gained enough magic to take over. Ozma is her puppet, the Wizard and Glinda are her toadies and only the wicked witches stand against her plan to siphon out all Oz’s magic even if it destroys the realm.

I liked the opening in Kansas but things droop once we get to Oz. For one thing I can’t believe Amy’s reaction is “Wow, this isn’t anything like the movie.” rather than “WTF, Oz is real?” For another, Paige mashes up the movie and the book, which is common enough, but Amy’s supposedly familiar with both so she should be aware of it. Glinda, for example, looks like Billie Burke in the film but Amy identifies her as the Good Witch of the South, as in the book.

And the book just drags. Long training montage as the witches teach Amy magic. Long sequence where she’s undercover as a maid in the palace. Waaaay too many people hinting that there’s stuff they can’t tell her yet, and warning Amy cryptically not to trust anyone else — it’s the Lost school of avoiding reveals by nobody spelling things out. I’ll pass on Part Two.

SHOOK OVER HELL: Post-Traumatic Stress, Vietnam and the Civil War by Eric T. Dean Jr. argues that far from being a unique expression of the trauma of ‘nam, PTSDed Vietnam veterans follow in a long tradition of shell-shocked soldiers dating back to the Civil War. As Dean details, lots of soldiers during and after that war cracked up in various ways reminiscent of what we associate with Vietnam, though interpreted differently (mania, melancholy, nostalgia) and explained away differently (for example derangement due to the “withering incubus” of excessive masturbation). Dean argues that the Civil War also undercuts most of the arguments that Vietnam was uniquely awful as Civil War soldiers dealt with even worse conditions (rampant disease for instance) and in the South’s case, the shame of having lost. All of which is interesting but undercut by his political grousing in the conclusion — what do Vietnam veterans have to complain about when the benefits were so generous? PTSD has become such a vague diagnosis it’s hard to take seriously! Shouldn’t we consider that yes, the Vietnam war was a justifiable one to fight! — all of which makes me wonder if that doesn’t bias his analysis, even if I didn’t spot it.YOU COULDN’T IGNORE ME IF YOU TRIED: The Brat Pack, John Hughes and their Impact on a Generation by Susannah Gora traces how Hughes went from writing for National Lampoon to screenwriting, then directing, leading to hits such as Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles and The Breakfast Club.  A good behind-the-scenes account of the winding road these films took to reach the screen, the backstage drama (given Hughes and Molly Ringwald had a mutual crush going on, it’s a relief Nothing Happened), the creative choices (most notoriously switching the ending of Pretty in Pink so Ringwald got the upper-class Prince Charming rather than goofy sidekick Jon Cryer) and hurt feelings (turn down Hughes for a role or a job and you were dead to him) plus the impact of the infamous article that coined the term “Brat Pack.” Gora also concedes that the Hughesverse is a very white world, though she doesn’t get into the sexism of some of the films.

This was good — with the caveat “if you’re interested in the topic” but I do wish Gora had put Hughes’ films into a bigger context. If not teen films in general, then the slasher and horny-teen films of the same decade. And while she explains she didn’t cover Home Alone and Weird Science because they didn’t have the same cultural impact, I’d have been interested to hear her thoughts on why not. Conversely, I don’t see why Say Anything got in, though her analysis was interesting enough I rewatched the film.

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