Based not only on the musical but on Gregory Maguire’s revisionist novel, “Wicked” is about the unlikely friendship between the Wicked Witch of the West (Cynthia Erivo) and Glinda the Good (Ariana Grande) in their youth and eventual falling out spurred by a meeting with the Wonderful Wizard himself (Jeff Goldblum). The Wicked Witch is born as Elphaba, and though she is born green, she is not born bad, her eventual malevolence shaped by her environment, suggesting that somewhere over the rainbow is, alas, a lot like being on this side of it. Indeed, when Elphaba arrives at Shiz University, it may as well be North Shore High School with Glinda approximating the queen mean girl. It’s not just Elphaba who is picked on and marginalized, however, it’s the animal professors, like the goat Doctor Dillamond (Peter Dinklage), a victim of anti-animal policies that fuel the righteous rage of the burgeoning wicked witch. It’s a bit obvious, this metaphor, as is the love triangle with a Winkie Country Prince (Jonathan Bailey), and that might be fine if “Wicked: Part 1” was not also trying to remind us that things are complicated. For so many ostensible shades of grey, “Wicked” feels weirdly black and white.
The moments when “Wicked” manages to eclipse its two-dimensionality are often found in Erivo’s performance, emotionally nuanced in its reactions. Most of all, though, she is physically expressive, all her doubt and fear and eventual anger seeming to well up from within and then pour out in song. This comes through best in a scene at a university dance where Elphaba’s unorthodox dance style feels like an expression of self, even as it comes in for laughter from fellow students, until Glinda steps forward and mimics it not from malice but mutual support, emotionally drawing her close. It’s the best moment in the movie not just for it how wordlessly evokes the turning point of their relationship but for how it far and away most effectively evokes the nature of a musical, to tell its story and define its characters through a musical number. Of course, that it’s a wordless musical number is telling. The songs do not thrill, or at least, they did not thrill me, which I think is important, as I am unqualified to evaluate “Wicked” on its melodic merits even if I know I walked away from watching it with not one lyric, not one melody, stuck in my head. The intended show-stopping number is Elphaba’s “Defying Gravity” and what it, and the rest of the “Wicked” soundtrack, most made me want to do was listen to Jimmie Dale Gilmore’s cover of Jesse Winchester’s “Defying Gravity.”
The moments when “Wicked” manages to eclipse its two-dimensionality are often found in Erivo’s performance, emotionally nuanced in its reactions. Most of all, though, she is physically expressive, all her doubt and fear and eventual anger seeming to well up from within and then pour out in song. This comes through best in a scene at a university dance where Elphaba’s unorthodox dance style feels like an expression of self, even as it comes in for laughter from fellow students, until Glinda steps forward and mimics it not from malice but mutual support, emotionally drawing her close. It’s the best moment in the movie not just for it how wordlessly evokes the turning point of their relationship but for how it far and away most effectively evokes the nature of a musical, to tell its story and define its characters through a musical number. Of course, that it’s a wordless musical number is telling. The songs do not thrill, or at least, they did not thrill me, which I think is important, as I am unqualified to evaluate “Wicked” on its melodic merits even if I know I walked away from watching it with not one lyric, not one melody, stuck in my head. The intended show-stopping number is Elphaba’s “Defying Gravity” and what it, and the rest of the “Wicked” soundtrack, most made me want to do was listen to Jimmie Dale Gilmore’s cover of Jesse Winchester’s “Defying Gravity.”
“Defying Gravity,” frankly, is not helped by how it is chopped up in the narrative rather than being belted out in one shot. This doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I like it when movie musicals depart from their stage presentation, but in this form, it merely works to underline how “Wicked” repeatedly saps its own sense of drama and forward momentum to elongate its run time, stretched thin. This sensation trickles down most troublingly to the character of Glinda. It’s clear that she’s meant to be more, not just sanctimonious but maybe even a little shifty, and yet, while “Wicked” pierces her sanctimonious bubble, there is clearly more being withheld for Part 2. And it because it does, and because the movie is so long, at a certain point, through no fault of Grande’s own, her porcelain doll-like comicality wears out its welcome. She has nowhere else to take it, really, standing around and waiting like the rest of us for Wicked Part 2: The Search for More Money.