Illustration by Michael DiMilo
Defying History: Film Review of Wicked
★★★★1/2
By Geoff Carter
The Broadway megahit Wicked seems to be a perfect vehicle for the cinema. After all, its a musical fantasy set in a fantastic land occupied by flying monkeys, a morally ambiguous wizard, talking animals, and witches—both bad and good. What better medium—complete with CGI, AI, and more traditional magic—could better convey the wonders of the beautiful and surreal land of Oz than film?
On that level, the film Wicked delivers. With stunningly beautiful cinematography, intricate sets, and sumptuous costumes, the film transports the audience over the rainbow. In fact, the trope of inserting color footage for the Oz sequences in the landmark 1939 version of The Wizard of Oz seems almost laughably primitive today.
But for all that, as in all good narratives, the true magic of this film lies in its characters, not in its production values. The relationship between the characters Glinda (Ariana Grande) and Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) is the keystone of the film. Their initial loathing, subsequent rivalry, and ultimate friendship is the foundation on which this beautiful production of Wicked is built.
The novel Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire is a reimagining of L. Frank Baum’s classic children’s book The Wizard of Oz, retelling Baum’s tale from the points-of-view of Glinda and Elphaba and featuring a backstory Elphaba’s childhood and her attendance at Shiz University, where she meets Glinda. Elphaba is ostracized because of her green skin while Glinda is quite popular with her fellow students, yet the two eventually form a lasting friendship.
The theme of exclusion is a prevailing one that is highlighted by the casting of Erivo, an African American woman as Elphaba. Her struggles with discrimination because of her green skin color (despite her obvious intelligence and talent) inform her empathy for others suffering from prejudice, specifically the Oz animals, and her struggles with choosing between acceptance or decency—being an acolyte of the wizard or doing the right thing, a choice which Glinda also must make.
But above and beyond these thematic underpinnings, director Jon Chu’s Wicked is a spectacular, fun, and glitzy musical. It is arresting, beautiful, and, at times, over the top. Way over the top. Which, in the tradition of the modern Hollywood musical (see Chicago) is the norm. And particularly for fans of the Broadway production, it’s a ton of fun. A stage production in the Emerald City highlighting the arrival of the wizard features Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth, the original Elphaba and Glinda, as well as composer Steven Schwartz and other luminaries.
The dance numbers are simply spectacular. Prince Fiyero’s (Jonathan Bailey) featured dance number “Dancing Through Life” featuring a series of rotating circular bookshelves on which dancers leap, slide, and carom is breath-taking. The final scene “Defying Gravity” where Elphaba rejects the wizard’s politics of hate and takes flight from Emerald City is beautifully rendered.
Grande’s signature number “Popular” is funny, sweet, and cute. And very pink. Although the character is a little too reminiscent of Elle in Legally Blonde for my taste, it is an eye-popping number. And unlike Barbie, another pink profligate, Glinda seems to have a very limited self-awareness of her arrogance or her sheer luck of having privileged status. She is clueless. In fact, her self-proclaimed penchant of doing good is mostly self-serving and shallow.
The performances are nothing short of phenomenal. Cynthia Erivo is in turns stoic, bitter, strong, righteous, and finally, loving. Grande’s Glinda is cute, frilly, shallow, and as substantial as a cone of pink cotton candy. While Grande manages to convey a shrewdness to her, this Glinda does not see her cutesiness and perky charm as put-ons. This is who she is, which is unfortunate. There are depths to Glinda which Grande failed to plumb.
In terms of the film’s thematic context of racial (and species) equity, Glinda’s moral superficiality is a cunning foil to Elphaba’s alienation and despair. Glinda doesn’t see the human side of Elphaba until it works to her advantage, which could be construed as a metaphor for white privilege and institutional racism.
When seen in this context, one of the film’s most disturbing sequences are in the beginning when Elphaba is escorting her sister Nessa (Marrisa Bode) to university. The students and residents react in outright horror and disgust at the sight of her green skin, a shockingly cruel (even in this fairy tale setting) reaction. Perhaps it seems so shocking because our societal racism is (usually) so carefully hidden.
The Wizard, played with an elegant affability by Jeff Goldblum, is an extension of a metaphor for discrimination and exclusion; this time, a political one. As the wizard who rode in on a hot-air balloon and proceeded to make over Oz in his own vision is a not-so-subtle symbol of neocolonialism. As with the American concept of manifest destiny or in the case of the Tucson Massacre, he rewrites history. It is done quite elegantly and humorously here with the Oz Players, but the imprisonment of the animals speaks to today’s issues of deportation and immigration.
If Wicked can be interpreted as an allegory for today’s politics of hate and exclusion, it wouldn’t be the first time. In Baum’s original book, one critical interpretation avers that he used silver slippers as a symbol for the advocates for silver and the yellow brick road as the gold standard. Dorothy, representing simple American values, walks down the yellow brick road (gold) with the Scarecrow (farmer), tin man (worker) to talk to the wizard. And so forth. (The Cameron School Blog)
While Wicked is an engaging story, light fun, and a fantastic musical, it also resonates with implications about how our society engages the other, racism, and morality. The Wizard and Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh) seem quite content to exploit and imprison those who get in the way of their ambitions, not unlike some of today’s politicos. When confronted with the path to success or that of righteousness, Glinda chooses the former, Elphaba the latter.
And all the beautiful cinematography, elaborate sets, stunning CGI, ravishing costumes, and saturated color palettes cannot hide the fact that this film is more than entertainment. Oz is a reflection of America and Elphaba and Glinda are reflections of what we can—or should—become.
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