Let’s be real for a second. In 2013, everyone thought we were getting the next Alice in Wonderland. Disney was riding high on that billion-dollar Tim Burton aesthetic, and they decided to bet the farm on a colorful, balloon-flying origin story. They called it Oz the Great and Powerful. It was massive. It was loud. It had flying baboons. And at the center of this swirling CGI tornado was James Franco, an actor who, at the time, seemed to be in every single movie ever made. Looking back at James Franco Oz the Great feels like peering into a very specific time capsule of Hollywood's obsession with the "gritty" (but also whimsical?) prequel.
But honestly, did it work?
If you ask the box office, yes. It pulled in nearly $500 million worldwide. If you ask a hardcore L. Frank Baum fan, you might get a very different, much saltier answer. The movie tried to bridge the gap between the 1939 classic and a modern blockbuster sensibility, which is a tall order for anyone, let alone a guy better known for stoner comedies and experimental indie projects.
The Casting Musical Chairs That Led to Oscar Diggs
It’s kind of wild to remember that James Franco wasn't even the first, or second, choice to play the Wizard. Originally, Robert Downey Jr. was the guy. Imagine that for a second. Iron Man in a top hat, fast-talking his way through the Emerald City. When he passed, the role was offered to Johnny Depp, who was basically the king of Disney live-action at the point. Depp said no.
Enter James Franco.
Director Sam Raimi had worked with Franco on the Spider-Man trilogy, so there was a level of comfort there. Raimi needed someone who could play a charlatan—a guy who is fundamentally a selfish jerk but somehow remains likable enough that you don't want him to get eaten by a lion. Franco has this specific smirk. You know the one. It’s half-charming, half- "I'm totally lying to you." That smirk is basically the foundation of his performance as Oscar Diggs.
Some critics, like Todd McCarthy from The Hollywood Reporter, felt Franco was a bit too "modern" for the role. He didn't quite have that old-school vaudevillian gravity. But in a weird way, his slightly detached, "is this actually happening?" energy fit the vibe of a Kansas con man who accidentally stumbles into a magical war. He felt like an outsider because he was one.
Sam Raimi’s Visual Fever Dream
If you watch James Franco Oz the Great today, the first thing that hits you isn't the acting; it's the saturated, candy-coated world. Raimi didn't go for realism. He went for "Technicolor on steroids."
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The opening sequence is actually the best part of the movie. It’s shot in black and white, in a cramped 4:3 aspect ratio, just like the original. It’s nostalgic. It’s moody. It feels like a real tribute. Then, the balloon hits the tornado, the screen widens, and suddenly your eyeballs are being assaulted by every color in the visible spectrum.
- The plants look like they’re made of glass.
- The waterfalls flow upward in some shots.
- The China Girl character—voiced by Joey King—is a genuine feat of CGI that actually feels tactile and fragile.
Raimi’s horror roots occasionally peek through, too. Those flying baboons? They’re terrifying. They aren't the goofy monkeys from the Judy Garland era; they are snarling, muscular beasts that feel like they wandered out of an Evil Dead storyboard. That's the Raimi touch. He balances the whimsey with a genuine sense of physical threat, even if the "threat" is mostly rendered in a computer lab in Burbank.
The Three Witches and the Problem of Character
You can't talk about this movie without talking about the trio of powerhouses playing the witches: Mila Kunis, Rachel Weisz, and Michelle Williams. This is where the movie gets complicated.
Michelle Williams as Glinda is pitch-perfect. She radiates this ethereal, slightly-too-perfect kindness that makes her feel like she truly belongs in a fairy tale. Rachel Weisz as Evanora is clearly having the time of her life being evil. She’s chewing the scenery, and frankly, the scenery deserved it.
Then there’s Mila Kunis as Theodora.
This was the biggest point of contention. Watching her transformation into the Wicked Witch of the West is... a choice. Kunis is a great actress, but asking her to fill the shoes of Margaret Hamilton is a Herculean task. When she finally goes "full green," the performance shifts into something that feels almost like a comic book villain. It lost the psychological nuance that the first half of the film tried to build. It’s a polarizing performance, but it’s definitely not boring.
Why We’re Still Talking About It (And Why There’s No Sequel)
By all financial metrics, we should have had an Oz the Great and Powerful 2 by 2016. The movie made money. It had a massive star. It had a built-in audience. So, what happened?
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Basically, the "Prequel Peak" happened. Around this time, audiences started getting a little burnt out on origin stories that explained things no one really asked about. We didn't necessarily need to know how the Wizard got his smoke and mirrors, just like we didn't need to know how Han Solo got his last name.
There were also some legal hurdles. Because Warner Bros. owns the rights to the specific visual elements of the 1939 film (like the ruby slippers), Disney had to navigate a legal minefield. They couldn't use the same shade of green for the witch, and they couldn't use certain iconic imagery. This led to a movie that felt almost like Oz, but just slightly "off," like a cover band playing your favorite song.
The Legacy of James Franco in Oz
Look, James Franco is a complicated figure now for reasons that have nothing to do with cinema. But if we’re just looking at the work, his turn in Oz was an attempt to turn him into a traditional leading man. He’d done 127 Hours, he’d done the Oscar-nominee circuit, and this was his "Tom Cruise" moment.
It didn't quite stick. He went back to doing weird, meta-comedies like The Disaster Artist and This is the End.
But James Franco Oz the Great remains a fascinating artifact. It represents the last gasp of the big-budget, non-superhero fantasy epic. Before Marvel completely swallowed the box office, studios were still willing to spend $200 million on a movie about a guy in a hot air balloon talking to a porcelain doll. There’s something kind of charming about that.
A Quick Reality Check on the Production
To give you an idea of the scale we’re talking about, here are some facts about the production that sound fake but aren't:
They built massive physical sets. Even though the movie looks like 100% CGI, the Yellow Brick Road and the Emerald City gates were real structures. The actors weren't just standing in a green box the whole time.
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The costume designer, Gary Jones, had to create over 2,000 costumes. Two thousand. For a movie about a guy who mostly wears one tuxedo.
The makeup for the Wicked Witch took about four hours to apply every single day. That’s a lot of spirit gum and green paint for a role that mostly involves screaming from a broomstick.
Sam Raimi actually brought in a real magician to teach Franco how to do sleight-of-hand. He didn't want to fake the magic tricks with editing. Franco actually learned how to produce doves out of thin air and make fire appear in his palms. That’s commitment.
How to Revisit the World of Oz Today
If you’re planning a rewatch, or if you’ve never seen it, don't go into it expecting The Wizard of Oz. It’s not that. It’s a Sam Raimi movie first and an Oz movie second.
- Watch the 1939 original first. It helps you catch all the tiny "reverse-references" the prequel makes.
- Focus on the China Girl. She’s the emotional heart of the film. The scenes between her and Franco are surprisingly touching and represent some of the best VFX work of that era.
- Turn up the sound. Danny Elfman’s score is underrated. It’s whimsical and dark in that classic Elfman way that perfectly complements Raimi’s visuals.
- Appreciate the practical effects. In an age where everything is a digital blur, the moments where you can see the real textures of the sets make a big difference.
The film serves as a bridge. It’s a bridge between the old Hollywood of the 30s and the digital Hollywood of the 2010s. Whether that bridge is sturdy enough to walk on is up to you, but it’s definitely a colorful trip.
Instead of looking for a direct sequel, fans of this specific "dark fantasy" aesthetic should look into Raimi's other work, specifically how he handles the "stranger in a strange land" trope. While James Franco Oz the Great might not have launched a ten-film franchise, it remains a bold, weird, and visually arresting entry in the Oz canon that deserves a second look for its sheer ambition alone.