The Wizard of Oz
There is something seriously wrong with a film when its main character, after finding out she's not in Kansas anymore, does not strip naked and start dancing around like a junkie who's found the long-fabled Fountain of Crack.
As anybody who has ever been to Kansas knows, those nearing the place cling desperately to every last minute before actual entry, while those ensnared inside can't wait to get out (or maybe that's sex with Roseanne). So what's wrong with Dorothy (Judy Garland), who regrets her departure and is elated to return? Simple: Dorothy is obviously tripping her ass off on insecticides.
How else do you explain the flying monkeys, the colored midgets and the various relatives running around in cartoonish suits? Apparently, Uncle Henry (Charley Grapewin) forgot to tell Dorothy to not play in the fields while he was dusting the crops. And if you feel bad for Dorothy, imagine poor Toto who, given his weight-to-inhaled-chemical ratio, is hallucinating his poor little doggie butt right into 12-step recovery hell.
After running the psychedelic gamut of talking lions (Bert Lahr), tin men (Jack Haley) and scarecrows (Ray Bolger), witches who melt, yellow bricks, a wizard (Frank Morgan) who projects a floating head and a place called Munchkinland swarming with little florescent people, no wonder Dorothy is happy to be back in Kansas. How shocking that one of our most cherished movies is actually about an intense hallucinogenic journey -- it's amazing someone didn't spot that sooner.
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