Goodness knows, it feels as if Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande have been attached at the hip for the better part of this century, crying and bantering together while adorned in fabulous ensembles of green, black, and pink, the (un?)official colors of Wicked. The press tour and behind-the-scenes gossip accompanying Jon M. Chu's long-awaited spectacular have been exhaustingly dramatique – probably to be expected for the film adaptation of a Broadway musical juggernaut beloved by theater kids all over (I was one of them), and starring one of the era's biggest pop stars.
Ultimately, it's what lands on the screen that matters. And with regards to Wicked: Part 1 many things are true at once: the excellent Erivo and Grande couldn't have been better suited to play Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West, and Galinda, who goes on to become Glinda the Good Witch; the movie's themes are evergreen and relevant; and whoever made the decision to divide the stage show into two separate movies deserves to be cursed by a spell from the book of the Grimmerie.
Wicked, very loosely based on Gregory Maguire's Wizard of Oz revisionist novel Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, tells the origin story of Elphaba and how she became L. Frank Baum's emblematic villain. She's shunned by her father and ostracized by her peers for the mere fact of being born with abnormally green skin, and at a young age discovers that in response to their callousness, her rage manifests uncontrollably as a magic force from within. Years later, that ability comes to the attention of Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh), the no-nonsense headmistress of Shiz University, who eagerly takes Elphaba under her wing for private tutelage in sorcery.
Two good friends, two best friends
Elphaba is assigned to room with Galinda, the bubbly, supremely vain beauty queen who's none too happy she now has to share her private suite with the school's oddball. The two clash for all the expected reasons: if Elphaba's whole vibe is "emo-goth girl who shops at Hot Topic circa 2003," Galinda's is "Barbie." Galinda's initially jealous that she herself doesn't get to study with Madame Morrible. But soon enough, they become friends (best friends, even), just as Oz enters a period of social unrest.
There's a lot to recommend here, particularly for fans of the show – the humor is punchy, Christopher Scott's expressive choreography enhances the characterizations, and Paul Tazewell's costume design details are perfection. But by far the standout of Wicked is that central relationship between these two enemies-turned-friends. Erivo and Grande have the goods: both come from theater backgrounds (the former has won a Tony) but are also naturals on camera, and so they're able to bring subtlety and grandiosity as needed. Even under the green makeup and against the backdrop of some hideously overwhelming CGI aesthetics, their chemistry is undeniable, whether they're bickering during one of the show's highlights, "What Is This Feeling?" or finding common ground during the show-stopping Act I finale "Denying Gravity."
This is most palpable during the big Ozdust Ballroom sequence, in which Elphaba, once again ostracized by her classmates, defiantly reacts to their laughter with dance, and Galinda, feeling empathy for possibly the first time ever, joins her. It's both the most musical theater-y thing that could happen in this most musical theater-y of shows, and gets at the essence of the show's enduring appeal.
A timely allegory — to a tune
Meanwhile, the show's other central concern is striking to take in at this moment. Gregory Maguire's 1995 book is a sprawling, bleak meditation on the nature of good vs. evil, and what it means to resist or give over into fascist movements. Oz is a world where animals have evolved to be just as intelligent as humans, with the ability to talk and live just as humans do, though they've long faced discrimination for doing so. (In the movie Elphaba's beloved professor Dr. Dillamond is a goat voiced by Peter Dinklage.) The paternalistic, self-anointed Wizard (Jeff Goldblum, at his Goldblum-iest) is intent on stripping Oz's animals of their autonomy and rights, and using Elphaba's powers to do so.
The musical, both on stage and screen, is a significantly diluted and altogether different take on Maguire's novel. But its parallels to our real world – currently marked by calls for mass deportations, the erosion of abortion rights; etc. – are still unmistakably apparent to anyone reading today's news.
The allegories of minority persecution are rendered even more palpable by the fact of casting Erivo, a Black woman, in the role as Wicked Witch of the West. (To date, only one Black actress has played her in an onstage production full-time: Alexia Khadime, in London's West End over a decade ago and again in the current production.) By coding the outcast-turned-political agitator as Black – her hair is in microbraids, and save for the green makeup, Erivo's facial features are fully visible – the realities of the world we live in are inescapable. "Her green skin is an outward manifestation of her twisted nature!" a character proclaims to the people of Oz at one point, riling them up to position Elphaba as the common enemy. Arguing that her skin – who she is – is reason enough to demonize her: It isn't altogether different from, say, recent rhetoric used to target Haitian immigrants in Ohio.
For all its virtues and relevance, however, it's curious that in this two-hour-41-minute adaptation of the first act of the show – longer, it should be noted, than the entire stage production without intermission – little of substance was added to justify making this affair a two-parter. Chu and screenwriters Winnie Holzman and Dana Fox stay quite faithful to the source material (which Holzman also wrote) and there are no new songs to go alongside all of composer Stephen Schwartz's original ones. (Reportedly Part 2 will have some new songs, which may be for the best considering Act 2's numbers suffer in comparison to the stacked first half.) There are few attempts to incorporate more of Maguire's excessive lore from the book, and other secondary characters, like Elphaba's younger sister Nessarose (Marissa Bode) and romantic interest Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey) aren't fleshed out any more than they are in show.
The result is a movie that, while pleasant and occasionally moving, concludes with its apex ("Defying Gravity") which also happens to be a cliffhanger. It's an unusually and exceedingly peculiar state – both complete and incomplete at the same time. The feeling isn't quite loathing, exactly. But it is a bit tiresome, especially since it likely means we have to expect yet another full year of a Wicked press tour. Like its predecessor, it's an imperfect production that has a lot of heart and brains. If it only had the courage to tell a complete story in a reasonable amount of time.
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