‘Wicked: Part One’ Review
It’s definitely one half of one musical!
WICKED: PART ONE IS SOMETHING LIKE a musically inclined origin story from the early era of the Marvel Cinematic Universe: The characters are broad and the backgrounds are computer generated and the conflicts are flimsy and the whole thing serves mainly to demonstrate how the hero gets her powers in order to let us watch her unleash them in future, better installments of the franchise.
The story, as I’m sure you know, is a revisionist retelling of The Wizard of Oz. The so-called “Wicked Witch of the West” was a scapegoat, chosen to serve as an effigy for the people to rally around while she burned. Glinda was a pawn of the Wizard; Dorothy an unwitting dupe. Wicked tells the “real” story, one of repression and discrimination against the green-skinned witch.
Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) is her name; she is the illegitimate daughter of the mayor of Munchkinland, whose mother was seduced by a man whose face we never see but whose voice sounds suspiciously like Jeff Goldblum, who plays the Wizard. As a result of the assignation—which was consummated while her mother drank a mysterious green liquid—Elphaba is born with a pronounced verdant coloring and unexpected magical powers that reveal themselves whenever she is upset.
Her childhood is unhappy; she grew up unloved and unwanted, raised by a talking-bear nanny. It is only by accident that Elphaba is admitted to Shiz University alongside her crippled sister, Nessarose (Marissa Bode), when her latent magical powers manifest in front of Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh). Unexpected and therefore unhoused, Elphaba is paired with Glinda (Ariana Grande) in her private suite, where the two polar opposites—Glinda is blonde and popular and does nothing to risk that standing; Elphaba brunette and despised and always trying to study—become quick enemies.
The heart of the story is their loathing-turned-friendship and the best musical number in the film, at least in terms of cinematic presentation, is “What Is This Feeling?” The whole thing is shot like a music video, match-cutting between various locations to create the mirrored sensation of the roommates growing to hate each other yet tying them together in mood and movement. They’re not so different, these two; they both care deeply about how others see them, even if Glinda is more transparent about it.
The most moving moment in the film comes a bit later, at an illegal underwater club. Glinda extends her grace to Elphaba and she is accepted by the rest of the students as worthy of their friendship and admiration; again, their story is told through dance, though this time it all takes place in the same location, the camera rotating between the two of them and the student onlookers, director Jon M. Chu getting in close and showing us Glinda’s emotional growth and Elphaba’s crumbling stoicism.
I did not care much for Wicked: Part One—I’m desperately tired of movies being one half of one movie, particularly when said movie has a run time of 160 minutes—but Ariana Grande delivers one of the best performances of the year as Glinda. Yes, it’s largely one note, that note being “ditzy blonde consumed by self-absorption.” But she hits that note like she’s Whitney Houston at the Super Bowl: Grande is raucously funny and charming within it, and Glinda’s moments of growth—as when she sees behind Elphaba’s rock-like façade and acknowledges the girl’s suffering—are both genuine and heartfelt. There’s conflict within the heart of this ditz, and she conveys it clearly with her eyes.
I’ve seen folks suggest that this movie is a satisfying whole rather than an unsatisfying half of a whole that’s nevertheless the same runtime as the Broadway musical. This is perplexing, as virtually every subplot—including the hamhanded metaphor about animal oppression that implicitly compares talking goats to Jews in Nazi Germany and the desperately dull relationship between Nessarose and a Munchkin with a crush on Glinda—goes completely unresolved.
Thankfully, all of my questions will be answered: Regardless of my exhaustion, the movie will likely be a monstrous hit with audiences and Oscar voters alike. The audience I saw it with seemed enraptured; it laughed and sniffled at all the right moments. It’s not for me, but you’ll know if it’s for you. Please don’t let my peevish nature dissuade you defying the gravity of my disapproval.