her transition from music diva to Hollywood diva, demanding an upgrade of her period-piece wardrobe. But the 1972 drama was a success in the end, drawing five Oscar nominations, although Ross lost Best Actress to Liza Minnelli of Cabaret .
Motown’s follow-up, Mahogany , was more problematic—shooting began with Gordy firing British director Tony Richardson and ended with Ross slapping Gordy in the face and walking off the set. The film, a hastily edited, soap-opera mess, received savage reviews and flopped.
In 1977, Motown bought the rights to The Wiz , a script based on a Broadway hit with African-American stars putting their own spin on The Wizard of Oz . Gordy and producer Rob Cohen cast Ross, then thirty-three, as Dorothy. The director who signed on, after a number of false starts, was Sidney Lumet, who had collaborated with a young Al Pacino on Dog Day Afternoon and Serpico . At fifty-three, Lumet was an old Hollywood hand with fast-talking charisma, ending sentences with “darling sweetheart.” To give The Wiz an orchestral punch, Lumet sought out an old friend to request a favor.
He called Quincy Jones.
Q didn’t want to do it. Jones liked only three songs from the Broadway show—“Home,” “Brand New Day,” and a funky ensemble number called “Ease On Down the Road.” But he felt indebted to Lumet, who’d hired him for many film scores in the past. “I felt I owed him more than one,” Jones said of Lumet. “I owed him a lot.”
The musical production of The Wiz was more daunting than anything Jones had ever done. It involved nine singing stars, 120 dancers, six sound technicians, three conductors, four contractors, 300 musicians, 105 backup singers, nine orchestrators, six copyists, and five music editors. Jones hunkered down at his office in Bel Air, frantically scribbling notes and music on a huge bulletin board containing the beginning sections of each of the movie’s fifteen numbers.“It’s like a war zone,” he explained.
Lumet stocked The Wiz with top-tier African-American talent—Ross, Richard Pryor, Lena Horne. Rob Cohen, head of Motown Productions, thought Michael Jackson would be perfect for the role of the Scarecrow, and he approached Gordy with the idea. To his surprise, Gordy agreed.“Aw, Michael’s great,” said the Motown chief not far removed from years of litigation with the Jacksons over contracts. “Michael’s a star.”
Lumet was harder to convince. He wanted Jimmie “J. J.” Walker, star of TV’s Good Times . “Michael Jackson’s a Vegas act. The Jackson 5’s a Vegas act,” the director told Cohen. Quincy Jones was skeptical of Jackson, too, butCohen arranged a meeting, flying nineteen-year-old MJ to New York. Finally, Lumet and Jones saw the qualities that Cohen saw. “That boy is so sweet! He’s so pure!” Lumet exulted. “I want him as the Scarecrow.”
The final barrier was Joe Jackson, who wasn’t thrilled about Michael doing a project that separated himself financially from the rest of his siblings. Cohen mollified Joe by offering roughly $100,000 for Michael to play the Scarecrow. When The Wiz began filming in New York, thetwenty-seven-year-old producer moved Michael and La Toya into a Manhattan apartment, and Michael was on his own for the first time. He lived a normal life, except for a strange habit Cohen happened to discover—taking baths inPerrier water.
The shoots were long and grueling, lasting all day underneath the World Trade Center towers. At night, the young cast went out to play in New York City. Cohen took Michael, along with other members of the cast, to Studio 54, the disco hot spot known for both its crazy sexual escapades and celebrity regulars like Andy Warhol, Mick Jagger, Cary Grant, and Brooke Shields. Jackson danced there, insulated from the public within his broad movie entourage, including extras Iman and Pat Cleveland, both supermodels. One of Cleveland’s girlfriends had the hots for Michael. The rest of the club
Motown’s follow-up, Mahogany , was more problematic—shooting began with Gordy firing British director Tony Richardson and ended with Ross slapping Gordy in the face and walking off the set. The film, a hastily edited, soap-opera mess, received savage reviews and flopped.
In 1977, Motown bought the rights to The Wiz , a script based on a Broadway hit with African-American stars putting their own spin on The Wizard of Oz . Gordy and producer Rob Cohen cast Ross, then thirty-three, as Dorothy. The director who signed on, after a number of false starts, was Sidney Lumet, who had collaborated with a young Al Pacino on Dog Day Afternoon and Serpico . At fifty-three, Lumet was an old Hollywood hand with fast-talking charisma, ending sentences with “darling sweetheart.” To give The Wiz an orchestral punch, Lumet sought out an old friend to request a favor.
He called Quincy Jones.
Q didn’t want to do it. Jones liked only three songs from the Broadway show—“Home,” “Brand New Day,” and a funky ensemble number called “Ease On Down the Road.” But he felt indebted to Lumet, who’d hired him for many film scores in the past. “I felt I owed him more than one,” Jones said of Lumet. “I owed him a lot.”
The musical production of The Wiz was more daunting than anything Jones had ever done. It involved nine singing stars, 120 dancers, six sound technicians, three conductors, four contractors, 300 musicians, 105 backup singers, nine orchestrators, six copyists, and five music editors. Jones hunkered down at his office in Bel Air, frantically scribbling notes and music on a huge bulletin board containing the beginning sections of each of the movie’s fifteen numbers.“It’s like a war zone,” he explained.
Lumet stocked The Wiz with top-tier African-American talent—Ross, Richard Pryor, Lena Horne. Rob Cohen, head of Motown Productions, thought Michael Jackson would be perfect for the role of the Scarecrow, and he approached Gordy with the idea. To his surprise, Gordy agreed.“Aw, Michael’s great,” said the Motown chief not far removed from years of litigation with the Jacksons over contracts. “Michael’s a star.”
Lumet was harder to convince. He wanted Jimmie “J. J.” Walker, star of TV’s Good Times . “Michael Jackson’s a Vegas act. The Jackson 5’s a Vegas act,” the director told Cohen. Quincy Jones was skeptical of Jackson, too, butCohen arranged a meeting, flying nineteen-year-old MJ to New York. Finally, Lumet and Jones saw the qualities that Cohen saw. “That boy is so sweet! He’s so pure!” Lumet exulted. “I want him as the Scarecrow.”
The final barrier was Joe Jackson, who wasn’t thrilled about Michael doing a project that separated himself financially from the rest of his siblings. Cohen mollified Joe by offering roughly $100,000 for Michael to play the Scarecrow. When The Wiz began filming in New York, thetwenty-seven-year-old producer moved Michael and La Toya into a Manhattan apartment, and Michael was on his own for the first time. He lived a normal life, except for a strange habit Cohen happened to discover—taking baths inPerrier water.
The shoots were long and grueling, lasting all day underneath the World Trade Center towers. At night, the young cast went out to play in New York City. Cohen took Michael, along with other members of the cast, to Studio 54, the disco hot spot known for both its crazy sexual escapades and celebrity regulars like Andy Warhol, Mick Jagger, Cary Grant, and Brooke Shields. Jackson danced there, insulated from the public within his broad movie entourage, including extras Iman and Pat Cleveland, both supermodels. One of Cleveland’s girlfriends had the hots for Michael. The rest of the club
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