The journey from successful stage musical to big-screen adaptation is rarely truly successful. From director Joshua Logan’s use of coloured filters in the 1950s adaptation of South Pacific (which looks as if something is wrong) to Tom Hooper’s recent mega-mess movie of Cats, there are so many pitfalls to avoid.
The suspension of disbelief we willingly embrace in live performance is disrupted by the naturalism of cinema so that the aggressive ballet of the West Side Story gangs looks prissy and tame when filmed on the realistically gritty streets of New York. Similarly, Nathan Lane’s Max Bailystock was hilarious onstage in The Producers, but translates to the film as monstrous over-acting.
Like these musicals, Wicked has proven a remarkable success onstage and is the second highest-grossing musical in the history of New York’s Broadway (after The Lion King). Now it arrives on-screen in two parts; the first released this year and the second in 2025. Eyebrows have been raised at the 2 hour 40 minute running time for a movie that covers act one of the musical, which is 90 minutes onstage.
Inspired by figures like Saddam Hussein, Wicked began life in 1995 as a novel by Gregory Maguire who, drawing on L. Frank Baum’s 1900 novel The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, wanted to explore how certain figures became demonised in society.
Set in the years before Dorothy crash lands in Oz, the story shows the Wicked Witch to not be evil; she is, in fact, good, becoming radicalised by the broken politics of Oz.
The novel was bought almost immediately by Demi Moore and Universal Studios who struggled to develop a screenplay until composer Stephen Schwartz suggested it became a stage musical.
Working with author Winnie Holzman, they created a female-centric story that jettisoned much of Maguire’s politics to concentrate on the “frenemy” relationship between “pretty in pink” Glinda and the green-skinned outsider, Elphaba.
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Director John M Chu’s movie takes Wicked back to its political roots. In a time when populist leaders are on the rise, it arrives as a warning of the dangers of modern fascism.
In particular, it expands the storyline of Oz’s speaking animals who lose their voices. Unlike onstage, these animals are CGI characters in fully animal form and Chu captures how societies are stunned into silence by outrageous political actions. In doing so, he emphasises the unthinking unkindness of the herd mentality. He also makes the film a paean to the power of goodwill.
Set mostly during the Wicked Witch’s schooling years, Shiz University is also more fleshed out. In this section, the movie is in danger of losing its narrative thrust. However, just as we begin to feel trapped in the love child of Mean Girls and Harry Potter, we are whizzed off to the Emerald City.
Here Maguire’s backstory to the Grimmerie, the Ozian book of spells, is now musicalized in a new sequence featuring the original stage stars Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth, and topped by a cameo from Stephen Schwartz. Once in the City, Jeff Goldblum’s Wizard proves a scheming huckster too aware of his own limitations
One of the classic pitfalls of the movie musical is in casting. From Lucille Ball in Mame to Russell Crowe in Les Misérables, missteps here can prove fatal. Thankfully, Wicked is expertly cast.
Ariana Grande captures the over-dramatising spoilt brat Galinda (to become Glinda the Good Witch), with precision vocals. Jonathan Bailey has a ball with the athletic, knowingly objectified heartthrob Fieryo, cementing his place as a leading man. Michelle Yeoh and Jeff Goldblum bring sinister gravitas and reasonable vocals to their respective roles.
However, the casting masterstroke is Cynthia Erivo as Elphaba who brings the quiet dignity to the role that she first revealed onstage in The Color Purple. As a queer black woman, for her, Elphaba’s story is one of pride, this is a woman who refuses to be ashamed of who she is and is determined to fulfil her potential.
She has a distinctive singing voice and the confidence to erase memories of Menzel’s stylings. Film also brings dimensions to Erivo’s talent. The use of close-ups allows an intimacy in her relationships that is impossible in a live setting. She is also able to show her ability to convey the pain she is suffering in a simple glance.
The film is a remarkable feat of 2D and 3D design and there are a dazzling array of quotes to other cinematic renderings of the Oz legends, all of which are delivered with a contemporary sensibility. This is a mechanically driven Oz, full of cogs and wheels, which reference the stage design of Wicked and includes a stylish train.
The costume designs reference both the stage show and the all-black disco musical The Wiz (1978). While the memories of the iconic Judy Garland’s 1939 movie are prompted every few minutes. In one scene, for instance, Elphaba transports a (cowardly) lion cub in a bicycle basket reminiscent of Toto’s dog-napping.
MGM changed Baum’s silver slippers to ruby (and the Wicked Witch’s skin to green) to showcase the newly developed Technicolor process. In this film they remain silver but are first presented in a ruby-encrusted box. There’s also nods to Baum’s original. Notably, the strangeness of the book’s Oz is more accurately captured than in any other cinematic version.
The best musical theatre is like experiencing a series of highwire acts in which the performers must flawlessly execute choreography, act convincingly and hit the highnotes eight times a week. Musical films, which can be re-shot and overdubbed, necessarily lack this sense of danger.
If at times Wicked struggles to capture the sheer energy of the stage, it re-imagines the work in a spectacular, but also thoughtful fashion, deepening serious themes and emotional connection. I will be back to see it and will undoubtedly see the four-plus hours in one sitting once part two is released next autumn. I only wish Judy Garland could see it.
Julian Woolford does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.
