“Are people born wicked?” Glinda, the Good Witch of Oz, asks. “Or do they have wickedness thrust upon them?”
Two decades since Glinda the Good Witch first pondered that question from the stage of the Gershwin Theater and launched a Broadway sensation, “Wicked” has landed in theaters. Or, to be accurate, “Wicked: Part 1.” The film adaptation, directed by Jon M. Chu (“Crazy Rich Asians,” “In the Heights”) with a screenplay by Winnie Holzman and Dana Fox, only covers the first act of the stage musical, written by Stephen Schwartz and Holzman; “Part 2” is set to premiere next November.
Chu’s film arrives on a whirlwind of eager (and anxious) anticipation among fans. It’s also accompanied by a green-and-pink publicity blitz that has garnered comparisons to last year’s “Barbie.” “Wicked” will, I expect, hit the box office like a tornado. Those looking for a dazzling musical spectacle won’t be disappointed, but the film has more on its mind. “Wicked,” in every incarnation, is a story that challenges our narratives about good and evil.
The musical was adapted from Catholic writer Gregory Maguire’s 1995 novel, a revisionist twist on “The Wizard of Oz” (originally written by L. Frank Baum). Maguire sought to explore how, and why, one becomes a villain by reimagining one of the most iconic examples in fiction: the Wicked Witch of the West.
When we meet her in the film, Elphaba Thropp (Cynthia Erivo) isn’t a witch, but a morally courageous girl ostracized for her bright green skin and erratic magical abilities. She attends Shiz University in order to take care of her sister, Nessarose (Marissa Bode), and meets Glinda (Ariana Grande), a vapid social-climber more interested in applause than altruism. Elphaba and Glinda become unwilling roommates, and have undergraduate misadventures with classmates like Boq (Ethan Slater), a Glinda-smittened Munchkin, and Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey), a ne’er-do-well prince. Eventually, the two women become unlikely friends.
Glinda hopes to learn sorcery from the imposing Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh), but it’s Elphaba who impresses the professor. Morrible believes that her natural talent for magic could make her a valuable asset to the Wizard (Jeff Goldblum), Oz’s mysterious ruler. Ultimately, Elphaba does go off to meet the Wizard, changing the course of history—just not in the way anyone expects.
Chu’s film is a potent and heartfelt adaptation, exploding with vibrant choreography, gorgeous costumes and soaring emotion. The stage show was a dramaturgical wonder—you never forget the first time you watch Elphaba take flight. Chu translates that energy into a cinematic idiom, while using film’s unique gifts to tell the story with greater scope and intimacy. His camera swoops around dancers, brings us inches from a tearful face and rockets us into the clouds on the tail of Elphaba’s broom. The lighting and color grading leave something to be desired (especially when evoking the 1939 film, a Technicolor feast), but those flaws are usually overcome by the verve of the story and performances.
Indeed, one of the film’s greatest assets is the sheer star power of Erivo and Grande. As Elphaba, Erivo conveys strength, resolve and nearly buried vulnerability. Grande turns in one of the year’s best comedic performances, physically precise and anchored by an endearingly human neediness. And of course, “Wicked” allows both women to showcase their world-class vocals. Occasionally the vocalizing gets too showy––both stars have a tendency to go on a run when a single note would suffice––but it’s hard to nitpick with this much talent on display.
The film is, inescapably, only half of a story. Still, there is a complete arc here: it’s not the full story of “Wicked,” but the story of Elphaba awakening to political consciousness. She begins the film longing for acceptance, but becomes invested in the plight of Oz’s talking Animals, who face a campaign of marginalization: harassed, threatened and forced from jobs. Doctor Dillamond (a Goat professor voiced by Peter Dinklage) explains that anti-Animal backlash began following a recent period of economic hardship: “Food grew scarce, people grew hungrier and angrier. And the question became, ‘Whom can we blame?’”
“Wicked” the musical is overall a much lighter piece of work than the novel. Maguire’s novel is deeply political (and deeply Catholic), a meditation on how governments, religions and communities seek out villains: scapegoats to redirect popular anger, or monstrous threats to compel loyalty. He was initially inspired by coverage of the Gulf War, which compared Saddam Hussein to Hitler. “I was surprised to find my pulse quickening for military action, even though I had been a card-carrying protester of the Vietnam War,” he told the Denver Gazette in 2021. As a gay Catholic, his concerns about the church he loves being unable to fully accept him or his family informs the work as well.
The stage musical removed a lot of the thorniest material from Maguire’s book, while retaining its core concerns and adapting them to a new political moment: the early days of the War on Terror. I’m interested to see how those themes resonate with movie audiences today. Chu’s film premieres weeks after the end of a presidential campaign marked by fear mongering and division. If you asked a random sample of Americans to identify who “the enemy” is today, their answers would likely vary—but I have no doubt that they would have immediate answers. It’s worth questioning where our ideas of “the enemy” come from, and the motives of those who tell us who to blame and fear.
“Wicked” succeeds as entertainment but it also might inspire us to ask some important questions. In our society, who is good and who is wicked—and who gets to decide?
