Wicked
In 1900 L. Frank Baum published his modern fairy tale, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. He told readers it “was written solely to please the children of today,” but it rapidly became a source of fascination to adults. Every part of Baum’s book has been combed over for allegorical references, although there’s no standard interpretation. Some see it as a comment on monetary policy in the 1890s, others believe it to be a disguised theosophical tract. As Baum was a political activist and a disciple of Madame Blavatsky, both interpretations are plausible.
We’re on safer ground with individual characters: The Scarecrow is said to represent American agriculture, the Tin Man is industry, the Cowardly Lion is the nation’s confused military policy. The Wizard of Oz is a self-aggrandising, political shyster, and Dorothy the innocent, naïve voter. The Wicked Witch of the West symbolises the harsh frontier, and her flying monkeys are the Indians. How one puts it all together is anyone’s guess. If there is a moral to the story it’s still up for grabs, although the safest bet might be: “There’s no place like home!” It’s an America First announcement, warning that all sorts of bizarre things happen when you go to foreign countries. Best not venture out of Kansas.
Things took off when Hollywood got hold of the story in 1939, casting the 16-year-old Judy Garland as Dorothy, and laying on a whole raft of special effects. Dorothy’s Silver Shoes became ruby slippers that stood out against an overwhelming backdrop of emerald green. Contemporary audiences were wowed by a first experience of Technicolor that still looks incredible today.
In 1995, Gregory Maguire took Baum’s characters and used them in a novel called Wicked, which invented a backstory for the Wicked Witch of the West and her rival, the Good Witch, Glinda. Eight years later, Stephen Schwartz adapted the novel into a musical, which has run through one production after another, finally scoring the accolade of a motion picture adaptation, with Jon M. Chu at the helm.
Chu is responsible for the popular but godawful Crazy Rich Asians, and a bunch of Justin Bieber videos, so his credentials are excellent for directing a musical. The budgets for these adaptations may be high, but the bar for quality is low. I thought Tom Hooper’s Les Misérables (2012) was virtually unwatchable, but it was a masterpiece alongside the same director’s adaptation of Cats (2019). Wicked is more visually engaging, with a greater indulgence in CGI, while Cynthia Erivo in the lead role can really sing. I wish I could be as positive about the music itself, which is sentimental schlock with big production values. As ever, it’s neither one thing nor the other: pop with operatic pretentions.
This verdict puts me seriously off-side with the thousands that turned up for opening night at Sydney’s State Theatre, where most of the cast appeared on stage and wandered up and down the aisles in front of adoring fans. When each song began there were screams and gasps, as if something miraculous were about to happen. True fandom requires an unconditional surrender of agency and dignity when confronted with one’s idols. It would be a bonus if the object of adoration were worthy of the effort.
The Wizard of Oz may have its ambiguities, but in Wicked, the whole story boils down to one proposition: “It’s not easy being green”.
When Elphaba (Erivo) is born with green skin, as the fruit of her mother’s adultery, she is doomed to the life of an outsider, scorned by her nasty, snooty peers. It goes without saying that she is an intelligent good-hearted person, who craves a little affection.
Her opposite number is Galinda or Glinda, played by the waif-like Ariana Grande, a tiny, self-confident blonde who is the object of universal adoration. If Glinda is also a narcissistic airhead this doesn’t diminish her status at the college where the two young women – the Pariah and Ms. Popularity - will end up sharing a room.
Elphaba may be a social outcast, but she has extraordinary magical powers that make her a favourite pupil of Sorcery teacher, Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh). She is also full of concern for the talking animals who are being removed from the teaching staff by an insidious authoritarian program. Glinda barely seems to notice anything, except the handsome Prince Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey), who has come to study at the school, although he prefers to throw books around in the library.
This sequence, in which the Prince makes fun of those fools who want to study instead of party, reminded me of that KFC commercial in which students throw away their exams in order to eat greasy chicken. It’s the same appeal to ‘rebellious’ yoof who scorn the work ethic and just want to have fun. Aside from being the stupidest scene in the movie in its venal appeal to the worst aspects of the teenage mind, it contradicts the idea that Fiyero might be the only character, aside from Elphaba, with a grain of sensitivity.
For the rest of the supporting cast, we have Elphaba’s disabled sister, Nessarode (Marissa Bode), and a goofy munchkin called Boq (Ethan Slater). They are the kind of ‘loveable’ characters that set one’s teeth on edge.
It's only when Elphaba is summoned to the Emerald City to meet the Wizard (Jeff Goldblum), that she will discover the true nature of Oz, and the extent of her own abilities. And so, after 2 hours and 40 minutes, the curtain falls on “Part One” of this saga. In the musical this was Intermission, but the film version will be dragged out over two installments. Naturally this is merely to extend the fans’ viewing pleasure, not to squeeze out more money for the studio.
Wicked is a parable about social stigma and acceptance. Elphaba may be green, but she could just as easily be black in a class full of caucasians. We’re encouraged, in a rather insipid way, not to judge people by their appearance, but by their character and their actions. Glinda, who is all surface and no substance, finds this hard to accept, having always traded so successfully on her good looks.
We know that Elphaba is set to become the Wicked Witch of the West, but this movie suggests she is a saintly person at heart, who has either been slandered by Oz propaganda, or driven to extremes by the unfair way she has been treated all her life. She is a critical thinker, a non-conformist who challenges the dominant power structures. Glinda, by contrast, has apparently never had a critical thought, unless it concerns someone else’s makeup or dress sense.
One can see how this story might appeal to insecure teenage girls, feeling ugly and unloved, while some glamour queen gets all the attention. There are hundreds of movies on this theme, most of them clunkingly heavy-handed in the way they spell out it’s ‘what’s inside’ that really counts. Wicked implicitly encourages its audience to think for themselves, not be seduced by appearances, and to be tolerant of difference. It would be easy to match the film with the doctrine of Anti-Racism, which has become a cultural force in the United States.
It's ironic that this film, with its syrupy moral message, should appear in the same week that Americans have decisively rejected Elphaba and re-elected the Wizard of Oz, with his homespun waffle and dictatorial fantasies. While teenage musical fans are being asked to sympathise with a not-so-wicked Witch, a large part of the country has gone marching down the Yellow Brick Road.
Wicked
Directed by Jon M. Chu
Written by Winnie Holzman, Dana Fox, Gregory Maguire
Starring: Cynthia Erivo, Ariana Grande, Jonathan Bailey, Marissa Bode, Ethan Slater, Michelle yeoh, Jeff Goldblum, Keala Settle, Bowen Yang, Bronwyn James
USA, G, 160 mins