The orneriest members of the online film elite have made their feelings known about Wicked‘s lighting – or particularly, it’s backlighting. Never before have I seen a group of irony-pilled aesthetes get so hung up on the concept. It’s a claim that’s both accurate and overstated, but the claim that Wicked is an “ugly” movie is flatly incorrect. These are the issues of waiting several weeks to see the year’s most popular movie; you watch it through the lens of its biggest critics. There are sequences in Wicked that seem unnecessarily shrouded in shadow when it’s meant to be high noon (that this is basically the stock trend of Hollywood cinematography is a discussion for a different time), but harping on that seems to be a deliberate obfuscation of the point.

The point is this: in a film adaptation of Wicked (perhaps the most popular stage musical of its generation, give or take Hamilton), what’s most important is that they get the songs right. Not only that they are sung well (they are), but that they exist fully within a performance that defines character and establishes narrative points (they definitely do). Everything else reminds me of people criticizing Alfonso Cuaron’s Gravity because of its screenplay. Any movie with a press campaign as insufferable as Wicked‘s is bound to have people sharpening their knives for it, but it cannot be claimed that the film falls short of delivering high quality populist entertainment.

Ariana Grande is Galinda, the good-spirited, vainglorious student at Shiz University who hopes to one day possess the powers of sorcery. Everything she hopes for comes naturally to Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo), but Elphaba’s outsider status (and green skin) color her powers as dangerous. Elphaba isn’t even an enrolled student at Shiz, she’s only their to escort her disabled younger sister, Nessarose (Marissa Bode), to her dorm before unwittingly putting her powers on display in front of everyone. This catches the eye of Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh), Shiz’s Dean of Sorcery. Morrible convinces Elphaba to stay and be trained to hone her skills. Morrible also sticks Elphaba in Galinda’s private room, the opening salvo in a blooming frenemy relationship.

There’s a lot of plot here. A lot of it includes talking animals who fear they are being phased out of society. This is includes Elphaba and Galinda’s history teacher, Dr. Dillamond (voiced by Peter Dinklage), a goat who becomes one of many animals facing discrimination and oppression. Elphaba herself knows about discrimination, as she encounters bullying from her classmates who resent her oddness and green skin. Galinda is flatly resentful of her powers and her position in Morrible’s good graces. In perhaps the least surprising narrative shift of all time, the two aspiring witches eventually become friends against the odds, and the majesty of Shiz, Morrible, and eventually the Wizard himself (Jeff Goldblum) fades precipitously.

The script is written Dana Fox and Winnie Holzman. Holzman was the author of the original show’s book. Splitting the movie into two parts is a cynical, obvious money grab. But at two hours and forty minutes, it’s astonishing to learn that this is only the musical’s first act. In adaptation, sequences become elongated, move against the quick change excitement of the stage. This is a much bigger problem in Wicked than its cinematography. It’s musical numbers are bursting with energy while its world building is slack, treated with minimal interest. Jonathan Bailey shows up as a prince named Fiyero, who arrives without motive and simply… becomes a student? Galinda immediately pursues him, but he’s more interested in Elphaba. Ethan Slater is a munchkin named Boq who’s obsessed with Galinda, but ends up with Nessarose.

So there’s some romantic intrigue here which I imagine will get more payoff in Part 2. One struggles to understand why the animals are given so much narrative importance, other than paralleling Elphaba’s own dealings with prejudice. Even then, the movie’s pacing is sluggish at best, struggling to fill out such a bloated runtime with only half a story. None of this is true when there are songs, which there are many. Director Jon M. Chu has become a reliable mainstream director. Crazy Rich Asians proved him able to produce effective entertainment with broad appeal that doesn’t play down to its audience and In The Heights showed that he knows his way around a musical. Chu has faced most of the backlash over the film’s shortcomings. His direction values spectacle over performance, a decision that usually pays off for Wicked.

Casting Erivo and Grande in the two iconic roles ends up being the film’s masterstroke. Despite all of the eccentricities of their stretched out press tour, in the film, both embrace their part beautifully. Playing Galinda as a 30s screwball heroine, Grande’s performance is a brilliant display of physical comedy and Bill Murray-levels of smug lovability. Elphaba has always been the better part, if the less fun one. Erivo doesn’t become weighted by Elphaba’s self-seriousness. Erivo is thirty-seven, but she really does capture the modest insecurities that encompass this young outcast. In the film’s final number, “Defying Gravity”, the two stars share a truly emotional moment together, crescendoing in perhaps the most famous vocal flare in history.

I’ve never seen the stage production, but going to high school in the early 2000s pretty much mandated a familiarity with the songs. “Defying Gravity” is the show-stopper, but “Popular”, “What Is This Feeling?”, and “For Good” were all mainstays during down time in the chorus room. This story of Oz and wicked witches and talking goats is all a vessel for these tunes which have pop radio catchiness and Broadway gravitas. Wicked has made an insane amount of money here and abroad, and it may have done that regardless of quality (look at Moana 2). It matters that Chu, Erivo, and Grande take this assignment so seriously. This isn’t the masterpiece that its most devoted fans think it is, but it’s an exceptional popcorn film, which is what we’ve all been asking for. Isn’t it?

 

Directed by Jon M. Chu