There’s a Spellbinding Spectacle in Reimagining ‘The Wizard of Oz’ at Sphere, but AI’s Touch Diminishes the Humanity of Dorothy and Her Companions – The Pop Blog

Las Vegas, with its glittering excess and dream-chasing pilgrims, mirrors the fantastical realm of Oz like no other place on earth. Its gaudy skyline, packed with faux landmarks and dazzling billboards, feels like a modern Emerald City, making it the perfect stage for a groundbreaking rendition of “The Wizard of Oz” at the Sphere, a venue that promises to redefine cinematic experiences. This audacious production, which opened on August 28, 2025, harnesses cutting-edge technology to immerse audiences in the 1939 classic, but its reliance on artificial intelligence to retool the film’s visuals often strips away the soul of its iconic characters, leaving a mixed legacy of awe and unease.

The Sphere, a colossal orb glowing on the Las Vegas horizon, is a marvel in itself, its 160,000 square-foot LED surface pulsing with vibrant imagery that outshines the Strip’s chaotic visuals. Driving from Los Angeles, the four-hour journey along Highway 15 feels like a pilgrimage down a personal Yellow Brick Road, with the Sphere looming like the crystal ball through which the Wicked Witch spies on Dorothy. Unlike the city’s tacky imitations—its half-scale Eiffel Tower or blinding Times Square knockoffs—the Sphere stands as a rare enhancement to the Vegas landscape, its dynamic exterior cycling through tributes to the film: ruby slipper sequins, lion fur, tin sheets, and straw-stuffed shirts, each a nod to the movie’s enduring place in American culture.

Inside, the venue’s 16K-resolution screen, wrapping 240 feet overhead and around the audience, creates an illusion so convincing that the amber arches above seem structural, not projected. The setup tricks the eye, making the vast canopy feel like an extension of the film’s world. This isn’t just a screening; it’s a live event, complete with drone-powered flying monkeys, an indoor tornado whipped up by massive fans, and seats that rumble when the Wicked Witch appears. Snow falls during the poppy scene, and flames flare beside the Wizard’s towering head, transforming the story into a visceral spectacle. These augmented reality elements are thrilling, evoking the wonder of past experiments like 4DX, where chairs jolt and spritz water, or “The Tingler,” with its vibrating seats. As someone who reached for the floating Fuzzball in Francis Ford Coppola’s “Captain EO” at Disneyland or scratched Odorama cards for John Waters’ “Polyester,” I’m no stranger to immersive cinema, and the Sphere’s ambition to reimagine “The Wizard of Oz” was irresistible.

Yet, the decision to overhaul the original film with Google-powered AI sparks both fascination and discomfort. The 1939 classic, shot for a modest rectangular screen, couldn’t simply be projected onto the Sphere’s massive, curving canvas. Every frame was deconstructed, reformatted, and enhanced to fill the expansive LED field. AI extrapolated missing details—extending Dorothy’s body in waist-up shots or imagining off-screen actions—allowing the film to envelop the audience. The result is a Kansas that stretches endlessly and an Emerald City that towers like a sleek video game set. The Yellow Brick Road, freshly rendered, winds vividly, but the characters, cut out and composited into these new backdrops, often bear a frosty, green-screen-like outline. The film’s runtime, trimmed from 102 to 77 minutes for modern pacing, omits scenes too complex to adapt, altering the rhythm of a story Variety ranked as the second-greatest film ever.

The AI’s impact is most jarring on the actors. Judy Garland’s Dorothy, once softened by film grain and delicate lighting, now has a plastic, poreless sheen, her glistening eyes replaced with a vacant, almost bovine stare framed by artificial eyelashes. Her makeup and freckles shift unnaturally between shots, undermining the emotional authenticity of her performance. In crowd scenes, Munchkins and Oz citizens appear as unblinking automatons, their looped movements plunging into the uncanny valley. The Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Cowardly Lion, reassembled closer together on screen, lose the charm of their original staging. A beloved gag, like the Horse of a Different Color shifting hues, is sacrificed, and Uncle Henry’s static, zombie-like lean against a wall in Dorothy’s living room feels like a betrayal of the film’s warmth.

Sphere’s chief, James L. Dolan, dubbed “chief Muckety-Muck” in the credits, clearly loves the original, and the production’s ambition reflects that passion. Unlike Ted Turner’s misguided attempt to colorize “Casablanca” in the 1980s, this overhaul won’t diminish the 1939 film’s legacy—purists can still cherish the untouched classic. But the AI’s heavy hand raises questions about altering art. Could human animators have made subtler choices for off-screen limbs or crowd movements? Perhaps filming new actors and mapping the original cast’s faces onto them would have preserved their humanity better than rendering them as the fuzziest elements in a hyper-sharp 16K world. The extreme resolution, while dazzling, often distracts, pulling focus to waving Munchkinland flora or glossy Emerald City floors rather than the characters.

Still, the experience has moments of undeniable magic. The tornado sequence, with wind, smoke, and paper leaves swirling, makes you clutch your hat like the man beside me did. The shift from sepia-toned Kansas to Oz’s vibrant colors, a mind-expanding moment in the original, is amplified here by the immersive screen and physical effects. The Sphere’s potential to reimagine classics is limitless, suggesting a future where showmen like Victor Fleming, who likely would have embraced the indoor snow and fire, could push boundaries further. Yet, the actors might balk at seeing their performances reinterpreted by algorithms, their choices overridden by digital guesswork.

Leaving the theater, the escalators glow green, mimicking the Emerald City’s ramps, and a Wizard-like figure in the lobby grants wishes with a floating head. When a bold guest requested “a new president,” the response—“We don’t like to be divisive here at Sphere”—sidestepped the irony. By using AI to reconfigure a beloved film, the Sphere courts controversy, balancing innovation with the risk of alienating those who hold “The Wizard of Oz” dear. The technology, still in its infancy, showcases astonishing potential but falters when it erases the human spark that made Dorothy and her friends timeless. As the Sphere continues to experiment, it must tread carefully to honor the heart of the stories it seeks to revive.

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