It’s more than fair to say that the Broadway show Wicked is pop-u-lar. With more than one-and-a-half billion greenbacks earned since its debut back in 1995, the Stephen Schwartz penned musical with a book by Winnie Holzman based on Gregory Maguire’s novel has proven that its verdigris is more than skin deep. Ever since its storming the stage there’s been talk about a film version, with the project wrapped in development for these many decades, with generation upon generation of fan continuing to embrace its story of perseverance and powerful transformation while wanting something … more.
Enter Jon M. Chu, fresh off the global success of Crazy Rich Asians, as well as his most recent film, a sympathetically told version of Lin Manuel Miranda’s pre-Hamilton hit In The Heights. At long last Chu has managed to get the pieces in place for a big budget telling of the Wicked Witch of the West’s origin story, employing a mix of grand theatrical sets and CGI to both expand the stage musical and to bring this story to millions more around the world.
For those not already versed in the storyline, Wicked: Part One traces the early connection and complicated friendship between G(a)linda (Ariane Grande), a pink-frocked, privileged student with a cutting soprano and arrogance to match, and a green-skinned tempestuous young woman named Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) whose dark demeanor and gift for empathy make her a direct contrast to her newfound companion.
Of course, the storylines that Maguire mined are based on the beloved Wizard of Oz, the Dorothy and friends fable that L. Frank Baum wrote and Victor Fleming most famously presented on the big screen in 1939. Although Wicked’s stage production hinted at some of the cinematic antecedents of this storyline, Chu’s film leans all the way in, with sweeping helicopter shots tracing the yellow brick road seeing a familiar lion, scarecrow and tin man, with a young girl in gingham and her little dog too, traipsing towards the Emerald city.
It’s best to think of Wicked as not simply one of the the progenitors of the recent trend to “humanize” famous antagonists (with the Star Wars prequels, Joker, and a slew of recent Disney films like Maleficent being prime examples), but equally part of the tradition of the likes of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, whereby astute commentary of what came before is explored via extrapolation of what otherwise appear to be two-dimensional characters.
The film, following almost directly the bricked path of the stage production’s first act, begins with what sounds (and feels) like a final number, a boisterous choral part discussing the death of a Witch, aptly titled “No one mourns the Wicked.” The chords are dissonant and jarring, the scene of revelry after this demise akin to torch and pitchfork-wielding crowds in a Frankenstein tale. Smiling through gritted teeth, the Good Witch of the East arrives in her trademark bubble conveyance, popping it with her pointy wand and extolling the crowd to be thankful for their newfound freedom from the malicious one.
When someone in the crowd asked if it was true that Glinda once knew this beastly creature that’s been terrorizing everyone from Munchkinland to Emerald City, the story kicks into its flashback structure for the duration. We see a charismatic yet shadowy figure swilling a green elixir while wooing the otherwise married woman who would become Elphaba’s mother, witness the shock of the birth of a green-skinned child thought monstrous, and eventually follow the young girl as she chaperones her younger, wheelchair-bound sister Nessarose (Marissa Bode) to the stately university named Shiz. It’s here that after an accidental outburst of magical prowess, the gloomy Elphaba is asked to attend private lessons by professor Madame Morrible (Oscar winner Michelle Yeoh), and the ever obsequious Galinda inadvertently volunteers to be roommates with the latest addition to the student body.
From here the oil-and-water tale of this oddest of couples unfolds, with tunes like “What is this feeling?” expressing effectively the sense of the loathing each has for each other. Naturally, as the storyline unfolds the two find deeper connection, yet there are still massive swings in this most challenging of relationships right through to the grand finale of this portion of the telling.
As is made clear from the title card that alludes directly to the flowing script of the 1939 film’s opening, this is simply Part One of the telling of Wicked, and with a running time in excess of two and a half hours that may be a fruit too poisonous for some to swallow. In deference to the director’s intent, the very thought of plopping the iconic “Defying Gravity” midway through a single film would be a heavy lift, and the stage play already suffers to live up to this grandest of exuberant theatrical tunes.
Finally seeing Wicked on the big screen, you appreciate the decision to allow the storyline to breathe, to employ elements excised from the book as well as more firm allusions to the characters previously played by Margaret Hamilton and Billie Burke over eight decades ago. Although the first half has most of the blockbuster songs and the most impactful moments of narrative, the expansion is one of the most welcome parts of this telling, and the promise of new songs in the second part to be released next year makes the anticipation all that more palpable.
With this much baggage at play, there’s lots riding on the two central figures at the heart of the story, and for the most part they pull it off. Although Idina Menzel and Kristen Chenowith will forever own these characters on a deep level, the casting choice of the already legendary Broadway talent Cynthia Erivo, along with an ever eager pop superstar Arianda Grande, are certainly worthy talents for such a grand canvas. Both artists have long been champions of the musical, and each brings both their own style and an obvious “theater kid” energy to their takes.
Grande’s high soprano is piercing but in a thematically consistent way, and some of her more wispy moments betray the insecurities of the character that she’s conveying. Erivo’s powerful instrument is on full display, and although some of the melismatic additions are a bit showy, even the famous Tarzan-like battle cry that ends the first act is given a unique and personal touch. These may not be the definitive versions of these songs, and the decades of stagecraft have granted many worthy additions to the canon first initiated on Broadway, but both are effective and, perhaps most importantly, both can sustain the glare that stepping into such iconic roles inevitably invites.
For those slightly outside the spotlight, there’s much more to admire. Michelle Yeoh’s singing chops are not quite at the highest of levels, but both her charm and the darkness that her character’s name hints at are presented with ease. Jeff Goldblum’s take on the gormless Wizard also treads the line between goofy and manipulative, his gangly frame mirroring the spires of Emerald City in welcome ways. Broadway veteran Ethan Slater manages to expand the underwritten munchkin Boq from his diminutive role, and the aforementioned Marissa Bode, the first wheelchair user to get to play the role, has a fine voice and once again makes the character far more robust than in the on-stage telling.
Then there’s Jonathan Bailey, who manages to steal the show from his very entrance. Not since Dan Stevens first showed up in The Guest, or perhaps when Glenn Powell out-cruised Tom in Top Gun: Maverick, has there been this much tantalizing testosterone employed in such an effective way. Bailey’s bravura take on Fiyero Tigelaar, the Winkie Prince who sings about “Dancing Through Life,” is by far one of Chu’s most accomplished moments of filmmaking, managing to make the character simultaneously seductive and disarmingly silly. It’s also a moment in Wicked‘s storytelling where there’s fun to be had, and the massive sequence is absolutely a joy that by far exceeds the smaller scope of the on-stage presentation.
Other Wicked extensions such as “One Short Day” are given to appropriate excess, while more insular ruminations like “I’m Not that Girl” are presented in more intimate ways free from flourish. Although much has been made that the vocals were recorded on set rather than mimed to playback, it’s primarily during these more direct moments that this production decision truly succeeds–the rest of the time the singing is buried in the busy orchestration and heavy-handed post-production that leaves little room for the nuances of what’s being sung.
In fact, if there’s one deeper frustration with Wicked it’s that the already boisterous score by Schwartz is amplified with additional instrumentation to the point of glossing over many of the most exceptional elements, the counterpunctual punches landing like a thud with the overproduced, glossy recording. Some of the percussive elements of the original stage recording are subsumed into the desire to hire more musicians, to create a bigger orchestra, all for maximalism rather than effectiveness. Frankly, stripping most of this stuff away to merely rehearsal piano (as per some of the behind the scenes footage) may be a more than welcome supplement should the producers of the home video release be looking for suggestions.
Visually, the film oscillates between the sumptuous and the dour. The 1939 original is a Technicolor marvel, the glossy colors of magical wonder central to one of the most famous of film transitions in cinema history as the black and white world is literally transformed. There are hints at this level of resplendence, but as the storyline gets darker even the blazing greens of Emerald city feel more muted, and the CGI elements of a sweeping Elphaba follow recent trends for gloomy, desaturated, cloudy-like visuals. Time will tell whether this is all intentional, and the palate will be expanded in Wicked Part 2, but even in the most chromatically boisterous of set pieces like “Popular” there’s a sense that although so much of the telling has been cranked up to 11, the visual aesthetic is still somehow refusing to live up to the foundation of the entire affair.
These caveats aside, it’s fair to say that Chu’s film succeeds extraordinarily well. Its storyline feels both universal and timely, the expansion of both narrative and musical elements are welcome, the performances are captivating, and the decision to make this a standalone film should silence any critics of the choice when they finally get a chance to experience it in all its glory. Hyperbolic praise will come easily to such a film – already there’s talk of this being the front runner for Best Picture, with the very real potential of this being a consensus choice as part of a ranked ballot poll – but even as the Emerald city is espied through the most jaded of eyes this truly feels like a special film indeed.
Chu’s film defies already high expectations, takes the storyline to new heights, and brandishes its exceptional ensemble to craft one of the great musical movies of this or any age. This is the type of telling that this storyline deserved, employing the scope and sizzle of old Hollywood with a fresh new bent. Generations upon generations will look to this version of this telling for inspiration, and for those that know every note of the score ahead of time, to those new to these environs, they’ll be in for a treat.
This film is as good as this project could ever hope to be, and it bodes well that Part Two will live up to everything that’s been set up here. When granted the chance to see them back-to-back, we just may, as the song goes, all be changed for the better. After this first act, it’s already safe to claim that Wicked is frickin’ Oz-some.
Director: Jon M. Chu
Writer: Winnie Holzman, Dana Fox
Starring: Cynthia Erivo, Ariana Grande, Jonathan Bailey, Ethan Slater, Bowen Yang, Marissa Bode, Peter Dinklage, Michelle Yeoh, Jeff Goldblum
Release Date: Nov. 22, 2024
Jason Gorber is a Toronto based film Critic and Journalist, Editor-in-Chief at That Shelf, the movie critic for CBC’s Metro Morning, and others. He is a member of the Toronto Film Critics Association and voter for the Critics Choice Awards Association. He also knows for a fact that CASINO is Scorsese’s masterpiece, and has a cat named Zissou.