Crafting a good movie musical is a delicate art. To find a cast that can carry a tune as well as they can emote is just one of many miracles that have to materialize — but when the stars align with sweeping set design, good cinematography, and great songs, it’s obviously magic.
That brilliance comes in fits and starts in Wicked. The long-gestating adaptation of the Broadway juggernaut, itself an adaptation of an adaptation of the original Wizard of Oz, Wicked’s ambitions are set appropriately high. Director Jon M. Chu, himself no stranger to a musical, samples from many different pots here: his Wicked belongs to two worlds, invoking the knowing urgency of its on-stage predecessor and the Old Hollywood grandeur of its source material. And were it not for some overindulgent pacing choices and an unfortunate reliance on backlights, this new incarnation of Wicked might have been perfect.
Fans have been waiting for a faithful adaptation for years, and Wicked definitely fits the bill — but its love for the source material is almost its undoing. Plenty of pixels have been spilled about the choice to split a two-hour stage musical into two different films, and at its lowest points, Wicked does test its goodwill. It’s not without its flaws, but they’re easy to forgive, if only because it manages to create an entirely new myth from decades of careful worldbuilding.
For at least a century, The Wizard of Oz has served as the ultimate modern myth, as classic an example of the American Dream as apple pie and the nuclear family. It only follows, then, that Wicked delivers the other side of that coin, pivoting its focus from the doe-eyed Dorothy to her fiercest antagonist, the Wicked Witch of the West. In The Wizard of Oz, the Wicked Witch is little more than a stock villain; an allegory for our worst vices conflated in one comically-evil being. She holds the same place in Oz’s collective imagination, but Wicked cleverly mirrors the Witch’s abject corruption in the lives of those she once terrorized.
The film kicks off just after Dorothy and her intrepid companions liquify ol’ Elphaba once and for all, with Glinda (Ariana Grande), the Good Witch of the North, spreading the message to the citizens of Oz. This victory is bittersweet for Glinda, not only because she crossed paths with the Wicked Witch in her school days, but because she knows a little something about her alleged corruption. Glinda only begins to share the truth to confront the origins of wickedness — and to placate the mob of Munchkins burning a literal straw man of the witch in question. As she turns the clock back to explore Elphaba’s early days, there’s a question of whether the witch was truly wicked at all, or an unfortunate victim of circumstance.
Those familiar with the musical already know the answer to that rhetorical: Elphaba was not born evil, just green. The color of her skin turned her into a pariah from the moment she drew her first breath, and in classic fairytale fashion, she grew up loathed by everyone — even her own family. But she was also born exceptional, with a host of magic powers that seemed to flare in tandem with her emotions. Though she manages to overcome the marginalization that defined her youth, growing into a beautiful, quietly capable young woman (Cynthia Erivo), Elphaba is no closer to controlling her gifts. But when a stunning display of her powers grants her entry to magic class at Shiz University, our heroine inches one step closer to her destiny... and her inevitable doom.
Elphaba’s journey at Shiz is akin to a trial by fire. While she feels accepted by members of the faculty who recognize her talent, she’s never been more ostracized by her peers. Even in a school teeming with strange magic and talking animal professors, she is the odd one out, the Other. And though she strikes an unlikely bond with Glinda (then known as Galinda) and the Good Witch’s charming beau, Prince Fiyero (a distractingly good Jonathan Bailey), Elphaba still stands alone.
Sometimes, though, that’s a good thing — like when Shiz headmistress Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh) recommends her for an apprenticeship under Oz the Great and Terrible (Jeff Goldblum). Her brief audience with the wonderful wizard allows Elphaba to unlock her inner potential, to truly harness it, for what feels like the first time. With that new power comes a new understanding of self, but it also makes her an enemy of those who’d use her gifts for their own gain. (Three guesses who they turn out to be.)
As Wicked is, again, just one part of a larger story, novices will have to wait until 2025 to see how Elphaba truly becomes the Wicked Witch of the West. But her descent is not without nuance, and it takes on a whole new meaning with Cynthia Erivo’s tough, yet tender, performance.
To call Wicked a sociopolitical allegory is the understatement of understatements. It’s the kind of tale that finds a home in any era, but it feels especially timely now, with fascism so casually back in style. One of Wicked’s major subplots deals intimately with the erosion of civil rights for marginalized groups (the aforementioned talking animals), but ironically, it’s the central coming-of-age story that truly drives this point home.
In the text, Elphaba’s plight is not necessarily about race or misogyny: the story of a powerful, misunderstood witch is one that could feasibly resonate with anyone. That said, it does take on new significance with someone like Erivo in the role, especially as she’s one of the first women of color to actually lead Wicked in over 20 years.
For one thing, Erivo is perfect as Elphaba. She offers a softer, more internal take on the character, imbuing once-boisterous breakouts with wry, crackling warmth. As she makes Elphaba her own, so too does this adaptation shift to reflect her lived experience as a Black woman, herself an Other of a sort. Chu may make the odd choice when it comes to cinematography or lighting, but Wicked never missteps where this new take on Elphaba is concerned. That focus only strengthens the parts of the film that do work: its infectious choreography, lush practical sets, and rousing music numbers. That Erivo plays so well against her Grande’s Glinda might also go without saying, but casting this duo is one of many miracles that Wicked manages to pull off.
Wicked becomes the story of a Black woman striving to overcome oppression — personal and systemic — but above all, to heal her inner child. It’s a refreshing alternative to the year’s other coming-of-age stories, particularly those set in heightened worlds and starring women of color. I’m thinking particularly of The Acolyte, which made a valiant attempt to center a Black protagonist in the Star Wars galaxy before its untimely cancellation. Despite the strides that the industry has made towards more nuanced, even color-conscious casting, few fantasy stories are brave enough to support characters of color beyond lip service.
It is surprising that something so delightfully unsubtle as Wicked — a modern pop musical in which Elphaba herself foreshadows her demise through song — managed to introduce its new themes with such grace. Hopefully its second part, due in 2025, can drive all its great ideas home, and hopefully this won’t be the last to push a timeless tale into a new frontier.
