For me, a play’s first act always seems more exciting and engaging. It’s a wonderful time, getting to know the characters, seeing what makes each one tick and how they clash or groove together, and appreciating the stage work that defines their world for our brief time with them. Most second acts build towers of conflict upon the foundation supplied by the first, often going darker and deeper with their intentions and intensity. The best try to maintain that sense of discovery, plying us with new aural and visual delights to keep us rooted in our characters’ journeys. Wicked: For Good does exactly this, carrying over the previous film’s thorough performances, production design, and emotion.
With Wicked: For Good, we’re already well familiar with the look and feel of Oz and its inhabitants; no unnecessary overhaul has happened and not much has changed, other than the installation of a road made of yellow bricks. There’s no rejoining, no mucking about with having to familiarize us with who the good and bad are. Director Jon M. Chu asks us to dive straight back into the Wicked world as if we’ve just gotten seated after a 15-minute intermission (never mind that it’s been a year since Wicked: Part I was released), reorienting us quickly with Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) and Glinda (Ariana Grande-Butera) as they sit on opposite sides of a brewing storm in the merry old land of Oz.
Elphaba is carrying on with her mission to expose the Wizard (Jeff Goldblum) for the slickster fraud that he is, but interference from Madam Morrible (Michelle Yeoh) twists everything she does and says into more fodder for the people of Oz to fear her. “She wants to kill us all!” Morrible keeps shouting, even though that’s exactly nowhere on Elphaba’s list of priorities. Morrible embarks on a campaign to smear Elphaba as the Wicked Witch of the West, complete with handbills and posters that recall real-world anti-Black, Jim Crow-era propaganda. At every turn, no matter how benevolent Elphaba’s actions are, Morrible is there to reframe her as the boogeyman coming for the children and the ruin of Oz.
In this, Wicked: For Good shows itself as an allegory for the current US political system. The parallels to our modern day couldn’t be more pronounced, with those in power bent on keeping their power through lies, deceit, and demonization of “the other.” It’s Morrible who’s more the villain than the Wizard; while we think he’s the one behind the curtain, it is she who makes things happen, aided by her magical powers and being the one in the citizens’ ears. She’s the power behind the throne, the author of the fear-based fascism descending upon Oz propped up as measures to keep citizens safe. Animals who talk are being silenced, running to “the other side of Oz” to escape persecution and deteriorating to the level of dumb beasts (thank you, Hunter S. Thompson) for the purported safety of Oz to fulfill Morrible’s endgame of human supremacy.
On the other side, Glinda’s caught up in being the figurehead who keeps Ozians placated and tranquilly submissive, becoming the fairytale that the citizens wish they could live. She’s the equivalent of the reality TV programming we hold so dear, an unattainable ideal manufactured by Morrible to slap a kind, beautiful face on the atrocities being committed in the name of security. But Glinda still misses her friend, “the only one that matters,” sympathetic to Elphaba’s aims and plight but unwilling to buck the system that’s given her such heightened status and popularity. She has everything she wanted in the first film—even the square-jawed Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey), now Captain of the Wizard’s Guard—but there’s an emptiness that comes with it. Right and wrong are never an issue for her; it’s just her comfort level that’s at stake.
The ease with which Morrible lays the groundwork for her human-only vision of Oz is frightening, as we see a fear rising in the populace that never goes away. It’s evident from the first sequence of Wicked: Part I, a sequence that serves as bookends for these two movies, with the second iteration being colored by the depth of the struggle taking place in between. Most of us know how Victor Fleming’s The Wizard of Oz goes, with the Winged Monkeys, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion all joining the fray somewhere, but their entrances into the story have been reshaped to allow misplaced anger and hate to intervene, becoming more of a weapon than any magic either Morrible or Elphaba could summon.
It’s a darker, more pointed look at the events leading to the death of the Wicked Witch of the West (question: Is this a spoiler, considering that the first film started with it?), shading characters we’ve come to know and love with more than just “I’m sure to get a brain,” “A heart,” “A home,” “The nerve.” There’s a need for revenge that colors everyone’s intent, from the Tin Man on down to Glinda herself; Wicked: For Good explores this misguided vengeance in their hearts, showing how easy it is to give in to fear. As the Beastie Boys once said, “It takes a second to wreck it; it takes time to build,” but no one in the film—except for Elphaba and those sympathetic to her—is putting in the work to overcome prejudice and spite. Those outside these conflicts go along with Morrible quickly and willfully, never wanting to believe or being given the chance to know that they’re being taken for a ride.
Wicked: For Good is a demonstration of what happens when power takes advantage of a lack of understanding. It’s telling that the only ones who truly get what’s going on are those being hunted or treated as less-than. The leader of the Winged Monkeys says so much without having to say a word, silently joining Elphaba after she liberates him and the rest of his army (that Morrible had enslaved) when he sees kindness and truth behind her actions. The Winged Monkeys don’t flee for self-preservation; along with a linchpin character, they become Elphaba’s only overt cohort. It’s a marginalized group standing up for what’s right and doing the work needed to make desperately needed changes in the face of overwhelming opposition. As much as our focus is on the human characters who take center stage with their songs and stories, the Winged Monkeys are the embodiment of the possibility of change, but it’s almost shocking to see that they’re the only ones.
Having seen the Broadway production earlier this year, I can say that the one problem this film has is no fault of its own. As with the play, the musical numbers don’t quite rise to the memorable heights of the first film, relying more on showmanship than lyrical strength, with the exception of the title number, “For Good.” By this, Chu pulls out all the stops visually—like “The Girl in the Bubble,” a bravura one-take solo piece that relies on the kind of digital stitching used in a similar single take in Robert Zemeckis’ Contact—to ease the fact that a lot of these musical numbers are conversational and functional book numbers, not necessarily showstoppers or breakaway pop hits. (Any BTVS fans out there?) Most of the sung lines are meant to speed the story along, with very few allowing us to sit and dwell upon what’s being said. However, the aforementioned “For Good” does a lot of the emotional lifting, providing the necessary punch that hits us right where we need to be hit. To those of you dealing with personal circumstances where change is coming on fast and cannot be avoided: This duet will absolutely destroy you, as Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande-Butera’s plaintive, impassioned performances bring the film to a stunning apotheosis and catharsis.
Even though this second act’s musical numbers might be lesser than the first, there’s no denying the power of the story surrounding them. Love is found amid the tumult, leading to respite in a deluge of a fast-moving tide of disorder; those lucky enough to find it cling to it, willing it to be enough to sustain them for their looming battles. Unfortunately, love is also lost, with characters falling by the wayside and irrevocably changed because of misused power and Morrible’s machinations, leaving the survivors on opposite sides of a rift that can never be repaired. Wicked: For Good is not just a movie; it’s a statement, a fervent warning against bigotry and xenophobia. Its thematic material greatly eclipses that of its predecessor—which, by comparison, looks like a lovely walk in a park—and leaves us satisfied yet mournful, with a sense of hope waiting for us to reach out and take hold.
