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The Wiz (1975) and Godspell (1971) are two iconic musicals that reimagine familiar narratives by transplanting them into the gritty, chaotic landscape of 1970s New York City. Both works emerged from the same cultural moment, reflecting the urban decay, social upheaval, and vibrant countercultures of the era. While they haven’t been extensively compared in academic literature, their thematic parallels and aesthetic choices invite a rich discussion.
Recontextualizing the Mythic:
At their core, both The Wiz and Godspell engage in myth-making through urbanization:
The Wiz transforms L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, originally set in the fantastical Land of Oz, into a surreal, Afrocentric vision of New York. Dorothy’s journey unfolds across urban landscapes that mirror the challenges faced by African Americans in post-civil rights America—abandoned subway stations, graffiti-laden walls, and industrial wastelands stand in for the Yellow Brick Road and Emerald City. The musical uses funk, soul, and R&B to express a distinctly Black cultural identity, aligning with the aesthetics of the Blaxploitation era.
Godspell, on the other hand, reimagines the Gospel of Matthew in a New York populated by hippies, street performers, and outcasts. The narrative unfolds as a series of parables performed in vacant lots, under bridges, and amidst the detritus of urban decay. The characters dress like clowns and mimes, emphasizing a theatrical, almost childlike innocence against the harsh backdrop of the city. Stephen Schwartz’s folk-rock score reflects the idealism of the late 1960s, infused with the disillusionment of the 1970s.
Urban Space as Theological and Existential Battleground:
Both musicals transform New York into a metaphysical space, where spiritual journeys are mapped onto urban terrain:
In The Wiz, New York becomes both oppressive and magical. Dorothy’s quest is not just to return home, but to find her identity in an alienating metropolis. The Wicked Witch of the West’s sweatshop-like lair echoes the realities of urban exploitation, while the Emerald City embodies materialism and superficial glamour—a critique of consumer culture dressed in green.
Godspell uses the city as a kind of post-apocalyptic playground. The empty streets suggest a world that has lost its way, needing the guidance of Jesus and his followers to rediscover community and compassion. The urban decay is both literal and symbolic: the city is a fallen Eden where parables attempt to rekindle moral clarity amid the rubble.
Music as Cultural Language:
The musical styles of each show are integral to their reinterpretations:
The Wiz channels the Black musical vernacular of the 1970s, blending gospel, soul, and funk. Songs like “Ease on Down the Road” and “Home” are not just catchy—they’re affirmations of resilience, joy, and belonging in the face of systemic oppression.
Godspell leans into folk-rock and vaudevillian pastiche, drawing from the countercultural movements of the 1960s. The music fosters a sense of spontaneous community, reinforcing the idea that spiritual connection arises not from institutions, but from grassroots solidarity.
Optimism Amidst Decay:
Interestingly, despite their gritty settings, both musicals radiate hope and renewal:
The Wiz ends with Dorothy’s triumphant realization that home is within her, a message of self-empowerment rooted in Black pride and autonomy.
Godspell concludes with a community mourning Jesus’ death, but the ensemble’s return to life—marching into the city singing “Long Live God”—suggests that love and faith endure, even in the face of tragedy.
Why They’re Not Often Compared:
While these works share striking similarities, they’re often siloed by genre and audience:
- The Wiz is celebrated as a milestone in African American theater, aligning with works like A Raisin in the Sun or Purlie.
- Godspell is viewed through the lens of Christian-themed musicals alongside Jesus Christ Superstar, appealing to more ecumenical or spiritually curious audiences.
However, comparing them reveals a shared postmodern sensibility: both dismantle and rebuild familiar myths, using New York City as both canvas and character. They turn the city’s grit into a crucible for personal and collective transformation—a distinctly 1970s alchemy of despair and defiant joy.
