The Wizard of Oz
Two thoughts on The Wizard of Oz:
1) Good Witch Glinda is scarier than the Wicked Witch of the West. This is because, like most of the adults in the movie, she is so simperingly, wilfully useless. As a child I was well accustomed to the idea that there were grown-ups whose single motivating force was spite or 
malice: somewhat more startling was the revelation that their opposite numbers on the side of Good were bungling incompetents (Scarecrow, Tin Man, Cowardly Lion, the farmhands), charming charlatans like the Wizard and weak-willed milquetoasts like Auntie Em and Uncle Henry. Could there possibly have been a more chilling coda to the discordant shriek of “And your little dog, too!” than the vacuous, cupie doll chime of barely concealed amusement in “I’m afraid you’ve made rather a bad enemy of the Wicked Witch of the West”? How rubbish is that? At least Gandalf pretended to be on the Hobbits’ side.
2) So Dorothy ends up having to look after everybody. She saves the Munchkins, and protects Toto from the Wicked Witch and the Cowardly Lion. She is the surrogate grown-up, and does more good by accident than the others do by design: and all so that she can get back to the sepia-coloured pile of hurricane-tossed mud that she calls home. But why? She has no friends there, and no parents. I reckon it’s one of those odd things, like when you try to describe the end of Casablanca to someone, only you realise that it doesn’t make any sense for Ilsa to get on that plane without Rick, and when you go round and round the houses trying to remember what tiny plot detail you’ve missed out you wind up watching the movie again and finding out that yes, she HAD to go with Laszlo because, well, no wait… George Eliot knew and could’ve told you, and even Babe had a phrase for it, The Way Things Are, but all I know is somehow that it’s perfect, that it’s right.