What 'Wicked' Means To Me
Some musings on the musical and some gooning over the film.
I was going to try to cobble together a review of Wicked, the 20-plus-years-in-the-making film adaptation of the beloved Broadway musical, but I found myself rendered incapable. I’m simply too pilled by my love for this show, its source material and its stars to pretend that I can offer any type of discerning critical lens. That, and the fact that the hyperbole-driven nature of social media has rendered my exuberance for this film so status quo that I struggled to find the language to contain my thoughts in a way that felt like they were additive.
As I was watching Tuesday night’s NBC special, Defying Gravity: The Curtain Rises on Oz, I found myself turning to husband-of-the-newsletter, Billy, and explaining so many of my favorite details of the film and their connection to the show. “I think I’m low-key obsessed with Wicked,” I concluded. “It’s not low-key,” he responded. He’s so right. Ever since I traveled to New York City in 2004 to see the original Broadway cast, like many, I’ve remained spellbound by this show’s grip. I have my autographed playbill, sure, but that’s entry-level fandom. I got Stephanie J. Block a VHS copy of The Wizard of Oz and walked her back (at her behest!) to her hotel when she visited Pittsburgh for the show’s national tour in 2005. I traveled to Canada in 2006 to see Shoshana Bean and Megan Hilty reprise their roles for the Canadian stop of the national tour. I religiously purchased DVD copies of bootleg recordings so that I’d have every “Defying Gravity” riff committed to memory (Shoshana’s is my personal favorite).
What is it about Wicked? As Saoirse Ronan’s Jo said so succinctly in Little Women:
“Women.”
And as Reese Witherspoon added during her appearance on The View:
“Women’s stories matter. They just matter.”
This story, at its core, is a story not only of women, but the power of women, and the power of female friendship. That, and the lesson that it’s okay to be different. I put an ask out on IG to see what fellow Wicked fans were drawn to about the show:
“Broadway and theater in general has always seemed kind-of nerdy to me (sorry) but Wicked has always seemed cool, that’s the only way I can describe it.”
“The immersive nature makes you feel like you’re important and included in the story.”
“The songs are just so damn catchy.”
“Embracing the power of being an ‘other.’”
“How tight Fiyero’s pants are.”
“A different take on the underdog story.”
“Disability representation.”
“Hearing Idina belt out ‘aah-AH-AH-AHHH!’”
Perhaps my favorite assessment of the “Why Wicked?” argument came from Kevin Bianchi, who co-hosts the podcast Sentimental Men alongside Quincy Brown (they’ve had both Cynthia and Ariana on recent episodes).
“The beauty of this show lies in the fact that the meaning of it, the takeaway of it, evolves with you as you age. When the show came out, and I was 12, 13 years-old, it was a show about rebellion and being proud of the things that make you different and the things that make you stand out. But now, as an adult, there’s this whole other layer to it that I understand about loss and about friendship and about the loss of friendship.”
I also wanted to share a particular anecdote I received from one of my followers, Alexa Aron, who counts herself among what she describes as “one of many former 11-year-olds” that’s coming alive this week.
“A kid who literally only listened to Broadway musicals and only wore theater merch until I was way too old to be doing this because I was ‘focused on my craft’ (crazy). A kid who had a pen pal where we only spoke as Elphaba and Glinda with fanfiction ideas of how they talked as friends. A kid who didn’t fit into the norm, but fit into this magical world where the ‘other’ seemed wonderful. The story of the untold witches of Oz played a foundational role in me pursuing a career in theater, and ultimately receiving my BFA. Since then, my career has evolved into big tech, where it’s now a ‘fun fact’ that I know ‘so much about theater.’ But always, there’s a bond with those who understand this world. The opportunities now feel few and far between, but the glimmers are still there. And now… our universe that felt so sacred, so special, in a world that didn’t think we were such things… is on billboards, on every TV commercial, on every trending conversation topic. For the first time… we are… dare I say… cool? And wanted? And… popular? The importance of elevating our inner child at a time of such uncertainty feels more important than ever. It’s just as exciting to see the world realized in such a cinematic way as it is to get to look in the reflection of that young kid, lift her up, and realize how special she was all along.”
For me, a technical theater major at the Pittsburgh High School for the Creative and Performing Arts, I was so struck by how central the technical elements of the show were: the set, the lights, the costumes, the transitions — I fucking loved the transition out of “Something Bad” into Fiyero’s entrance at Shiz. Chills, every time. And then there were Chic Silber’s special effects. The smoke, haze and fog — and how it highlights and disguises! Glinda’s bubble! Elphaba’s broom! The Wizard’s head!
And then, of course, there’s that score. The show came at a time when Broadway belting was just beginning to apex. You had “It’s a Privilege to Pee” in Urinetown, “Gimme Gimme” in Thoroughly Modern Millie and “When You’ve Got It, Flaunt It,” from The Producers, but no show before it had been so big, loud and belt-forward as Wicked. That, and the clear pop music influence made this the kind of soundtrack you didn’t just want to listen to; you wanted to belt! As I’m sure my mother will attest, this show made listeners want to sing.
Now, about this movie, a film I’ve seen three times thus far and plan to make a dozen by year’s end. Where to begin?