REVIEW
The affection between the good and green witches of Oz has already been magnified tenfold by Wicked: Part I.
I can admit I was wrong.
I didn’t think the Wicked movie could yank my heart into my throat with the force of the stage musical. And I thought the two-part split betrayed a lack of faith in moviegoers’ imaginations. Theatre audiences have been sitting through both acts with a mere concessions break where Hollywood is serving up a whole year.
But the most intoxicating element of Wicked – the affection between the good and green witches of Oz – has already been magnified tenfold by the first instalment, which is essentially Mean Girls meets Harry Potter with an abrupt swerve into political espionage that will be better served by the sequel (more on that later).
Glinda and Elphaba’s bond, and its lessons in kindness, understanding and forgiveness, is the glittering heart of Wicked: Part I, which also deepens engagement with other themes the show only has time to gesture toward: overcoming prejudice, decrying injustice and developing a moral compass over the objections of the adults in the room. Though it has taken over 20 years for the movie(s) to get made, the morals of the story feel even more resonant.
Much of the film’s poignancy comes from Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo, who many pundits agree are storming the Oscars race. Individual performances aside (Grande could stand to be even zanier; Erivo is a marvel of emotional transparency), the movie zeroes in on the rivals-turned-besties dynamic with a touching naturalism that goes beyond what’s possible in the show.
Onstage, Glinda is endearing for her frilly cartoonishness, while Elphaba, despite her lizard-like complexion, is more relatable and down to earth (ironic, given her gravity defiance). Director Jon M. Chu, and screenwriters Dana Fox and Winnie Holzman (the musical’s book writer), draw viewers into closer sympathy with both heroines by flashing back to Elphie’s childhood in more detail and dialing up the tenderness of their budding friendship.
All we know, when a green girl turns up at Shiz University in the first act of Wicked, is that she was born this way due to a dalliance of her mother’s. (The show is loosely based on the novel by Gregory Maguire.) In spending a bit of time on Elphaba’s formative years, the film introduces a young version of her (Karis Musongole) who comes to represent her inner child – the one whose wounds make her the woman she is and ultimately propel her into flight.
The movie doesn’t turn Elphaba’s verdancy into an allegory for blackness, but there are echoes of racial discrimination beneath the juvenile taunting she endures. (The character’s styling also beautifully incorporates black textures, including natural curls as a girl and microbraids as a young adult.) When Elphaba’s on-screen peers shun her at Shiz, their small-mindedness stings more because we know what she’s been through.
In this school-days movie, the emotional climax naturally goes down at Oz’s version of prom, where Elphaba is publicly humiliated for wearing the pointy hat that Glinda gifted her out of spite. Onstage, the shindig marks a quick pivot: Glinda regrets her prank, steps in to dance with her former foe and the two start to get along. Cue the Dancing Through Life reprise.
But Chu slows and expands their pas de deux – a teary, goofy, graceful game of mimicry – into the film’s touching centrepiece and the moment that kindles their loyalty for good. The potency of that love scene lays affecting groundwork for their parting duet (before Elphaba becomes a broomstick-riding fugitive) and for the betrayals still to come in the next film. Revisiting the Broadway production recently made me realise I had been spoiled by the privilege of spending so much screen time with the frenemies, whose relationship onstage seemed to be rendered in shorthand.
The second act, which is packed with cockamamie twists and turns as the plot intertwines with The Wizard of Oz, will also benefit from more breathing room. Wicked: Part II is likely to be a soapy action-adventure, hopefully one that continues to elaborate on the story’s tangle of timely themes. I already have tissues ready for their final parting ballad, For Good.
The first time I saw Wicked, two slips of paper in the Broadway playbill made me well up before the curtain rose on the first flying monkey. I was assisting at a talent agency where two of our young clients were leading-lady standbys; this was their first performance opposite each other, and my co-worker and I had begged our bosses for tickets.
I alternated between beaming and bawling for most of two hours and 45 minutes. (I was 22.) Was Wicked the best musical… maybe ever?
It had lost the top prize at the 2004 Tony Awards just a few months prior, but rooting for the actors, and watching their careers literally lift off the ground, supercharged my first impression. It didn’t hurt that the relative unknowns were Shoshana Bean (in green), a Tony nominee last season for Hell’s Kitchen, and Megan Hilty, currently hamming it up in Death Becomes Her. I didn’t know bragging rights would be my souvenir.
It’s a perfect theatre memory because it could only happen once. But I’ll be watching Wicked: Part I again, and patiently gnashing peanuts until the lights dim on intermission.
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