Wicked

Villified due to her green skin, a powerful young witch named Elphaba Thropp forges an unlikely friendship with Galinda Upland, a student with an unflinching desire for popularity, but it's a relationship that soon reaches a crossroad as their lives begin to take very different paths.

I’ve never read the book, nor have I seen the musical for Wicked. I'm aware of them, and I know the story (and where it ends up, obviously), and I've heard some of the music, of course, but otherwise I'm not too familiar with them. It was mostly a timing issue, I just never picked up the book for no particular reason, and despite my love of musicals, when it was popular, I had neither the money to get a ticket, nor a companion whose interest would've bolstered my own to the point where we would've made it happen. If I had seen the musical, I probably would've picked up the book to see how they differed, but I didn't see it, so I didn't pick it up. Also, as a result of never seeing the musical, I never really sought out the music either. This is because I don't like to listen to the songs from a musical before I've actually seen the musical. This is a personal preference; it just doesn't work for me that way. It's like reading a comicbook script before the art is done, it's just not the way I want to have the experience.

But since I haven't read the book, nor seen the musical, and since the film was made long before Trump's presidency, but most likely with the looming threat of our current reality firmly in mind, I have to wonder...

While this film is clearly an examination of wealth and privilege and class and racial bigotry, with an obvious anti-authoritarian message and a clear indictment of unqualified con men who use their positions of leadership to exploit and harm their people, but with a nice beat that you can really dance to, I have wonder... is this our world I see reflected in the film, or is this actually the source material? Is this film the result of current artists speaking to us from behind the curtain, or was the book (and the musical) yet another warning of the coming times we now live in? Were they yet another warning that we failed to heed? Were they yet another warning of a world that, at the time at least, still lay ahead, one where the bad guys encourage you to go along to get along, but only if you agree to throw marginalized groups under the bus, and you do it because it benefits you to do so? Was the book and the musical yet another warning that you can’t trust whitey, because they’ll sell you out every time for their own comfort, and for nothing more than a pat on the head and the promise of a gilded invitation to the shining city on the hill?

If we had only had some brains, a heart, and some nerve, indeed.

Anyway, the movie...

Somewhere over the rainbow, in the far-off magical Land of Oz, Glinda the Good Witch slowly descends from the clouds in a pink bubble to inform the good citizens of Munchkinland that the Wicked Witch of the West is dead, and that she was brought down at the hands of a young girl.

Amid accusations of being a former friend of the Wicked Witch of the West, a munchkin child asks Glinda why wickedness happens, and thus, Glinda is lost in a flashback, where we learn the origin of the Wicked Witch of the West...

Born from an affair between the wife of then-Governor Thropp and a mysterious traveling salesman hucking a vial of an obvious snake-oil green liquid–a man who sounds suspiciouly like Jeff Goldblum–Elphaba Thropp was born with green skin and the ability to control powerful magics, which mostly seem like telekenetics. For this, she has been ostracized and shunned for her entire life, bullied by her community of bigots and their ugly little hate-spawned children.

Years later, Elphaba Thropp arrives at Shiz University. While she herself is not allowed to attend the school, her wheelchair-bound younger sister, Nessarose is. But after the Dean of Sorcery Studies, Madame Morrible, witnesses an accidental demonstration of Elphaba's powers, Elphaba is enrolled with the promise that Madame Morrible will privately tutor her in sorcery. Elphaba is more than happy to accept, as she has always dreamed of working with the Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the ruler of all of Oz, presumably because because because because because of the wonderful things he does.

Unfortunately, she is forced to room with the bubbly snob and perennial clout-chaser Galinda Upland. A child of wealth and privilege, an overly-confident try-hard who is used to special treatment, and preternaturally gifted when it comes to popularity, Galinda and Elphaba clash instantly. Soon enough, a tiny war is raging between them in the halls, the classrooms, and their ridiculous dorm room.

Their little war intensifies when handsome rogue and transfer student, Fiyero Tigelaar begins attending Shiv. Galinda is instantly interested, but Fiyero is drawn to the very uninterested Elphaba. But when Galinda goes a bit too far at the Ozdust Ballroom nightclub, she feels as the other students taunt Elphaba. The two end up bonding as they dance together, and are soon best friends doing make-overs and all that other fun stuff. Also, Galinda gets a boy with the last name of Woodsman (ahem...) to ask out Elphaba's sister Nessarose, which he does, even though he actually has a crush on Galinda. Nessarose knows that he doesn't really like her, and that he pines for another, but she chooses to ignore that, which is a situation that will probably blow up in Part Two, and will eventually end with Nessarose crushed to death beneath a ramshackle Kansas farmhouse.

Despite enjoying having friends for the first time ever, Elphaba just can't ignore her concerns as she discovers that all over the Land of Oz, animals are losing their power of speech, and being caged by humans. Then, Dr. Dillamond, a talking goat who has faced repeated discrimination as one of Shiz's last animal professors, is forcibly removed from his classroom. He is replaced with a human who advocates for caging young animals so that they never learn to speak, and he has a young lion cub caged as an example. The lion cub looks very... scared, almost as if this entire experience will scar them for life, perhaps turning them into a coward. Using the power of poppies, an enraged Elphaba puts everyone except herself and Fiyero to sleep, and they escape with the cub, releasing it into the forest, where he may one day be king, not queen, not duke, not prince.

Then there's a bit of hesitant canoodling between Elphaba and Fiyero, but it is interrupted by Elphaba's self-doubt.

The Wizard, having learned of Elphaba's magic from Madame Morrible, invites her to come meet him in the Emerald City. Elphaba invites Galinda to accompany her. Galinda, due to the way that Dr. Dillamond misprononces her name, is now calling herself "Glinda" in solidarity with the animals.

In the Emerald City, the secret of the Wizard is revealed to them, and the Wizard and Madame Morrible introduce Elphaba to the sacred Grimmerie spellbook. As the pair are both unable to actually read the book, despite what the citizens of Oz believe, they encourage Elphaba to try. Elphaba is successful, but she accidentally gives the Wizard's monkey guards wings. But upon hearing their elation at the prospect of being able to uss the Flying Monkeys as spies, Elphaba realizes that the Wizard and Madame Morrible are the ones behind the oppression of animals and that they now intend to use her as a weapon in their bigoted campaign.

Horrified, Elphaba steals the Grimmerie and flees.

Glinda follows Elphaba, but implores her to reconcile with Morrible and the Wizard the entire time. In an emotional farewell, and a defiant announcement of her intention to rebel, Elphaba says goodbye to Glinda, a once trustworthy friend. As evil propaganda rings out across the Emerald City and all of Oz, Elphaba flies west, leaving Glinda behind.

End Part One.

I enjoyed this film a lot. It was bright and sunny and cheerful, all with a nice hidden edge that hopefully cuts a lot of people deep. Plus, and maybe I'm just late to the party and saying shit that everyone has always known, but Arianna Grande–with one foot set firmly in her post-soprano SNL skit era, and the other standing in an impersonation of Christian Chenowith–has real comedy chops and some great comedic timing. This has long been clear on SNL, and is most likely due to the fact that she is so clearly a giant fucking Theatre Nerd at heart, but still, she really sells this thing.

Of course, the blonde eyebrows do her no favors.

But her whole performance rests on the impressive strength of Cynthia Erivo's performance. A charasmatic powerhouse, she channels Elphaba's loneliness and sadness and anger with a furious energy, often restrained, but sharp and direct, and then climatically explosive, this is her movie, and Arianna is her side-kick. Also, if you're looking for more of Erivo, I'd suggest Season 2, Episode 1 of Poker Face, and also the HBO show, The Outsider.

Plus, they both have amazing voices.

You would think that following in the footsteps of Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth would seem like it would be the kind of task one might hesitate to undertake, but Erivo and Grande make their own mark here. The connection and friendship and shared Drama Nerd energy so apparent on their press tour is also clearly evident here on screen. It's good stuff, which adds to the over-all spectacle of their entire production. Wicked really does feel like a lavish and extravagant old-timey Hollywood musical done in all the glittering granduer of modern times.

But it's that hidden edge that I liked the most.

“Why not just teach history instead of being stuck in the past?”

Some might call it obvious, others might call it too silly, but me, I think about the likely audience that the seeds of this film's message might take root in, the kids, as they sit on the floor, bathed in the flickering light of their TV, enrapt and listening, while their stupid ugly parents chortle and scroll their phones in the background. There's always hope that art will reach someone who's listening, right?

“The best way to bring folks together is to give them a real good enemy.”

As I mentioned, Wicked is based on the novel I haven't read by Gregory Maguire, and apparently the themes of authoritarianism and rebellion against oppression are part of that story. We all already know that The Wizard of Oz is a con artist and a cheat who rules by fear, however much the original movie may have softened that reality. As I recall, in the original book, everyone in the Emerald City wore green-tinted glasses, because the whole city was a lie, there were no emeralds, and that everything was actually just painted white.

I know it probably wasn't intended by Frank Baum at the times, but god damn, from a modern point of view, that can sure be seen as a pretty clear metaphor for our times, huh?

That aside, the point is, The Wizard's deception is smoke and mirrors, and a little white man behind the curtain pulling the strings. It's nothing but lies. And the only reason why someone would do this are evil. There's no other answer. The Wizard wanted power and privilege, so he lied, manipulated, and exploited. This is a really important note to hit, because then it's a very telling criticism when certain people call these anti-authoritarian themes too dark, or too much of a downer for the film. Like I said, I haven't seen the Broadway show, but I think it's pretty fair to assume that the clear portrayal of this aspect is a big part of the stage production too, because that's what the movie is actually adapting, the Broadway show, which was itself an adaptation of the book. So while I can't say it for certain, because again, I haven't actually seen the show, I'd be willing to bet that, because of this reality, the occasionally awkward tonal swings betweeen giddy dance numbers and darker social commentary is there too, just like it is in the movie. In short, this is all part and parcel of the whole thing, it's baked in, so... in my opinion, if you're out there claiming that this message of anti-authoritarianism is too dark, that it's too much of a downer for the material, and "suggesting" that it would have been better if it had been more subtlely applied, and it's important to note, we're talking about a Wizard of Oz-related Broadway show here... honey, it's obvious that what you're really asking for is silence.

“You’ll find if you make it discouraging enough, you can keep anyone silent."

That this is a world where minorities are literally hunted down, locked in cages, and prevented from even speaking, a world where a charismatic, narcissistic, and unqualified white con man leader attempts to exploit a woman of color, and then when she refuses, persecutes her, how can it possibly be subtle? It's happening right outside our own windows!

“Her green skin is an outward manifestorium of her twisted nature, this distortion, this repulsion, this wicked witch.”

By the definition of what it is, and what it's a part of, this is not a message that can possibly be subtle. It can only scream at you as it points directly at who the real bad guys are. If that makes you uncomfortable, it's probably because it's you they're pointing at, right? Someone who goes along to get along, someone who willingly throw others under the bus, not only because you like it, and agree with it, but also because it benefits you?

All you're doing when you claim that this all-too relevant message about our times "drags down" the story's "energy" is showing your pale nazi ass to the rest of us.

I loved that the film does this.

So yeah, Wicked was a good time.

Plus, honestly, I love anything that uses the term “hoi polloi.”

I did walk away from this film wondering just what this story means for the character of Dorothy though...?

After all, at the behest of the state, Dorothy murders Elphaba. Unquestioningly too. And why? Because she was green? Because she was loud and angry? Because she was mean to Dorothy after Dorothy KILLED HER SISTER! That Dorothy was an unwitting assassin only makes her story worse. She showed up, and was duped by a charlatan, and as a result, her actions then aided an evil dictator in escaping from his crimes unpunished. And all for what? What did they get? The Scarecrow gets an honorary degree? The Tinman gets an ugly watch? The Lion gets a medal? Granted, these were always obviously bullshit gifts, but now? Dorothy's reward is that she gets sent home to a shitty little patch of dirt in the middle of Kansas, with no prospects, or a real chance at a future, especially after she immediately starts babbling about her magical trip over the rainbow? They all get nothing, and yet they willingly harmed others for it.

It feels like there's another potential metaphor for modern society there.

Anyway...

In the end, while it does feel a little overstuffed at 2 hours and 40 minutes, especially since this is only part one, I still enjoyed Wicked, and I'm looking forward to seeing what happens in Part Two.