Now that Wicked: For Good has hit theaters, all eyes are drifting back to the Emerald City again — and for good reason. Between “Defying Gravity” and “For Good,” the Wicked movies offer a surprising amount of truth, wisdom, and emotional clarity. Those songs shine with a kind of honest grit: courage, consequence, forgiveness, becoming better versions of ourselves. They’re the kind of lyrics that stick to your ribs.

But revisiting The Wizard of Oz in that light has been… enlightening.
And not always in the way MGM intended.

Because as beloved as the 1939 classic is — and I truly do love it — it contains some whoppers of bad advice. Real, forehead-slapping stuff. Things that make you wonder whether the Wizard was accidentally inhaling too much of his own smoke-machine output.

Case in point:
His declaration to the Scarecrow that “anybody can have a brain.”
(Which probably came as a surprise to a few people in Congress.)

Then there’s the Scarecrow’s triumphant moment of “proving” he has one by absolutely annihilating the Pythagorean theorem. And not in the “I got it wrong on a test” way. No, he conjures up an entirely new branch of geometry that would have given Euclid night sweats. Dorothy hugs him anyway, because she’s polite.

But the worst line — by a Kansas mile — is the one the Wizard gives the Tin Man:

“A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others.”

I mean… yikes.

You could hand that statement to the Grinch before his heart grew three sizes and even he’d say, “Wow, that’s a bit much.”

This line, delivered as though it’s dripping with Hallmark wisdom, is actually one of the most backwards moral messages ever put on film. If you follow it to its logical conclusion (and apparently no one in Oz does), you get:

• The quiet, behind-the-scenes helper who loves selflessly but isn’t well-known?
  Mediocre heart. Sorry. Try being more popular.

• The attention-seeking flatterer who gathers followers but loves no one deeply?
  Heroic, apparently. A gold-standard heart.

• Popularity = virtue

• Reputation = moral compass

• Applause = character

Imagine a world where moral goodness is measured by Instagram likes. Oh wait. We might already be there.

But in the context of Oz, it’s even weirder.
Dorothy’s love for her friends is quiet, loyal, and real — shown in service, sacrifice, and a little light manslaughter-by-house. And here comes the Wizard, a professional balloonist who accidentally became a politician (which feels about right), declaring that none of that matters unless everyone else claps loudly enough.

Honestly, it explains a lot about the man.

Because when you think about it, the quote reveals more about him than about the Tin Man. The Wizard is a fraud giving fraudulent advice. A man desperate to be loved because deep down he knows he hasn’t earned it. He can’t give real courage, real wisdom, or a real heart — so he leans on bombast and sentiment and hopes no one notices the difference.

And in the middle of a movie built on genuine friendship, loyalty, and finding inner strength, his statement clangs like a tin bucket dropped on a stone floor.

Maybe that’s the real lesson here — not the one the Wizard intended, but one we can actually take home.

Your heart isn’t measured by applause.
Or popularity.
Or how many people say nice things about you when you’re in the room.

It’s measured by kindness offered quietly.
By love given without keeping score.
By the way you show up for people even when no one notices.

Some of the best hearts in the world are loved by only a few.
And some of the worst have entire kingdoms cheering for them.

So the next time you watch The Wizard of Oz, enjoy the music, the magic, the nostalgia — but don’t take moral instruction from a man who built his entire career on smoke, mirrors, and one deeply misguided line about love.

And if you need real wisdom, stick with Wicked.

At least Elphaba and Glinda understand that love isn’t something you earn like frequent-flyer miles — it’s something you give.
And something that changes you.

That’s a message worth following down the Yellow Brick Road.

Copyright © 2025 Doug DeBolt.