BY TIM P. WALKER   I can’t remember the last time I watched Victor Fleming’s cherished 1939 film The Wizard of Oz from start to finish. I want to say the last time I did, Bush the First was still President and the internet as we know it was still in the womb. Granted, I do have a DVD of that movie sitting around somewhere, but I have yet to watch more than the first 43 minutes of it. (Full disclosure: I’ve never read any of the L. Frank Baum novels on which that film is based. And—get ready to call for the revocation of my cult geek card—I’ve never seen all of Walter Murch’s 1985 sequel Return to Oz either.) Anyway, when I watched this film when I was younger, I’d always get bored with the first twenty minutes. To watch it now, I’d likely still be bored with it if I wasn’t watching it on mute with a record playing. (More on that in a bit.) Dull, drab, boring-ass black and white Kansas—is this really the place Dorothy spends the rest of the movie fighting to get back to af...