Producers: Marc Platt and David Stone Director: Jon M. Chu Screenplay: Winnie Holzman Cast: Cynthia Erivo, Ariana Grande, Michelle Yeoh, Jeff Goldblum, Jonathan Bailey, Ethan Slater, Marissa Bode, Bowen Yang, Bronwyn James, Keala Settle and Peter Dinklage Distributor: Universal
Grade: C-
It may be hard to believe, but when it opened on Broadway two decades ago, “Wicked” was slammed by the New York critics and seemed destined for flopdom. For reasons which should probably be left to analysts of the vagaries of modern American culture, however, audiences embraced it, and it became a huge smash. It’s still packing them in, and has spawned numerous touring companies and international productions.
Unsurprisingly, assessments of the show have evolved to align with its longevity. One will now encounter claims that it’s as much a classic as L. Frank Baum’s “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” and Victor Fleming’s 1939 movie based on it.
But what this film adaptation of the show (or rather of the first act, since a continuation, consisting of the second act, is scheduled for release next year) makes clear is that the opening-night critics were right back in 2003. “Wicked” is a lumbering, cluttered, preachy prequel to Baum’s book and Fleming’s movie, and Jon Chu’s version of it is as visually unattractive as it is narratively and musically clunky.
Based on a 1995 novel by Gregory Maguire, which was only a modest success until the musical became a phenomenon (the author has since made a cottage industry of further installments), the story focuses on the up-and-down relationship between Elphaba Thropp, who will become the Wicked Witch of the West, and Galinda Upland, who will become Glinda, the Good Witch of the North. It’s structured as an extended flashback following a depressing opening number in which the Munchkins celebrate news of the Wicked Witch’s demise and call on Glinda to reminisce about their friendship as college classmates.
Elphaba (played as a youngster by Karis Musongole and as a grown-up by Cynthia Erivo) was born with green skin, the supposed daughter of Frexspar (Andy Nyman), the governor of Munchkinland, but actually the offspring of his wife’s (Courtney-Mae Briggs) affair with a mysterious man. Why the union should have altered her skin color, or endowed her with telekinetic powers, is never explained, especially since the identity of her biological father is eventually revealed. But so be it.
When Elphaba assists her younger sister Nessarose (played as a child by Cesily Collette Taylor and later by Marissa Bode), who’s confined to a wheelchair, in her matriculation to Shiz University, her accidental exhibition of her powers attracts the attention of the school’s Sorcery mistress Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh), who insists that the girl become her special student. Morrible also arranges that she room with Galinda (Ariana Grande), a superficial airheaded blonde who dreams of becoming a sorceress too.
Studious Elphaba and popularity maven Galinda, who quickly heads a clique including tiresomely fawning Pfannee (Bowen Yang) and ShenShen (Bronwyn James), dislike one another, but eventually become friends, even after the arrival of devil-may-care Prince Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey), who catches the eye of both. When Elphaba’s abilities earn her an invitation to the Emerald City to meet with the Wizard of Oz (Jeff Goldblum), she invites Galinda—who now calls herself Glinda—to join her. It’s a fateful journey that reveals some dark secrets and strains their friendship en route to a cliffhanger ending to Part I.
Adding to the already overstuffed character list are a few others, including Ethan Slater as Boq, a Munchkin infatuated with Galinda, who instead steers him toward Nessarose, and Keala Settle as Miss Coddle, the Shiz headmistress. There are also anthropomorphic CGI animals, like a sweet-tempered bear (voiced by Sharon D. Clarke), who’s nanny to young Elphaba and Nessarose, and learned goat Professor Dillamond (voiced by Peter Dinklage), the Shiz history teacher and the last of such non-human faculty members targeted for removal as part of a scheme to end animals’ power of speech and reduce them to captivity.
Elphaba’s opposition to that policy is, of course, an aspect of the movie’s overarching condemnation of discrimination, whether on the basis of skin color or of speciesism. The latter element also has a dimension that is more immediately pressing today than it was twenty years ago, when one character addresses the political impact of the animal policy with a justification of fascism’s use of scapegoating (in this case, quite literally) to maintain order. Fine sentiments though these might be, they’re so insistently emphasized here as to become tiresomely obvious.
All of which might not matter if Winnie Holzman’s script were better shaped and less cumbersome and her dialogue wittier, or if Stephen Schwartz’s songs were more distinguished. Yes, some of them have become standards, but more in the sense of adhering to the easy-listening pop template that has become Broadway’s default style than actually being “classic,” and the lyrics are mostly puerile. Add to that ensemble choreography by Christopher Scott that, with its emphasis on lurching and striking scarecrow-like poses, is busy but exceedingly ugly.
The lack of beauty extends to the overall look of the film which, thanks to Nathan Crowley’s gaudy production design and Paul Tazewell’s showy costumes, captured with luminous over-brilliance by cinematographer Alice Brooks, is pretty much the definition of garish, a quality exacerbated by the effects. Of course, nothing here is meant to look remotely real, and some of the images are striking—the long shots of the Emerald City, for example, or a shadow show the Wizard plays out for his guests. But over the course of two-and-a-half very long hours (editor Myron Kerstein can’t disguise the longueurs) the result is more exhausting than magical.
And yet one can’t fault the stars for the film’s flaws. Both Erivo and Grande are excellent. The former has the more difficult task, bringing pathos to a character who, until the last reel, is rather recessive. Grande, on the other hand, has a field day doing perky, self-absorbed shtick. And both sing exceptionally well, getting out of their big numbers whatever’s there to get.
Elsewhere the pickings are slimmer. Goldblum brings the quizzical, bemused attitude that’s his trademark to the Wizard, and Dinklage’s delivery is, as usual, distinctive. But Yeoh has little to play but smugness, and Bailey is handicapped by a character who veers from roguishness to nobility with inexplicable abruptness. And while Yang is currently a favorite for many, one might note that his shtick is already becoming a mite tired.
One of the musical numbers in “Wicked” is called “What Is This Feeling?” It’s a duet between Galinda and Elphaba during their time as hostile roommates; they decide that they have “unadulterated loathing” for each other. That would be an over-extreme reaction to the movie, but except for die-hard fanatics of the show, a pained shrug seems appropriate.