Wicked is a nearly 3 hour dichotomizing experience of exuberance and confounding civics. Utilizing universal themes of otherism, friendship, and the complexity of allyship in the face of power, Wicked attempts to complicate characters who have lived in the American psyche as personifications of good and evil by adding nuance to those archetypes. With Elphaba, (Cynthia Erivo) the green skinned wicked witch of the west and Glinda, (Ariana Grande) the golden haired good witch, born of Gillikin County, this story takes you on a manifold journey of incredible visuals and revelatory storytelling. 

As a former theatre kid, and forever theatre lover, I remember hearing the tale of Wicked. So, prior to entering the theatre I was familiar with the premise. It was a prequel to the epochal story of the Wizard of Oz that provided insight into what made the Elphaba “turn” Wicked. But, alas, I didn't have the means or resources as a child to see the live production on Broadway. So this $19.67 movie ticket was money proudly and emotionally spent. I understood, intuitively and empirically, the weight of this film upon entering the theatre. For over 20 years the audience that has invested $5 billion in the broadway stage show Wicked, has waited with baited breath to experience all the color and complexity of this story. So, I carried that with me into the theatre. And it appeared to be, as I’d hoped, a colorful story about friendship done expertly. From the intricacy of the set design to the granular details of the hair and costume choices. Everything felt intentional and otherworldly. However, I must assert as an aesthete, and lover of the richly saturated 1939 rendition of  The Wizard of Oz, my discontentment for the muted color grading of this film. Jon M Chu, this film's director, has said that the film's muted color grading was deliberate in order to "immerse people into Oz" and "make it a real place" instead of appearing fake and plastic. A choice I respectfully disagree with. In a world as fantastical and wondrous as Oz, the decision to dull its vibrancy for the sake of realism, sacrifices some of the spectacle of this story. 

But beyond considering the color, or lack thereof, within the visual component of this film, there is the color of the text. And to me this is where the richness lies. 

The film begins with Glinda the “Good Witch” celebrating the death of Elphaba, or the Wicked Witch, in Munchkinland. Of course, foreshadowing the inevitable demise of Elphaba that we are all aware comes at the hands of Dorothy. But, while Glinda is seemingly delighting in Elphaba’s death, she is questioned by a munchkin about the true nature of the alleged friendship she and the wicked witch once shared. At which point, we begin the journey to understand their conjoined stories. A story that highlights the benevolent wickedness of white women’s allyship, of white feminism. Elphaba is a green girl turned woman of true power, as evidenced by her magical sorcery and her resilience of spirit. She grew up being bullied for looking different, and possesses powers that initially only serve to aid in her otherism. Her father is a resentful antagonist who is ashamed of her. And her mother was a cheat who dies shortly after giving birth to her wheelchair bound sister, who is also ashamed of her. As such, Elphaba grows into young womanhood with no friends and with little love in her life. That is until she arrives at Shiz University where she meets the self absorbed, classist, and benevolently wicked Glinda, who at the time goes by Ga-linda for reasons I don’t care to understand. Glinda is an incredibly privileged & popular girl whose veneer of goodness is only overshadowed by her impish ambition for power. The two are forcibly roomed together and navigate a tumultuous enemy, frenemy, friend relationship. All the while Elphaba is taking a sorcery course with Madame Morrible, the only other individual with true magic in this film, that Glinda wants to take but has been denied access to. After being shown what Elphaba interprets as kindness from Glinda upon receiving her black witch hat, she threatens to withdraw from the course if Glinda cannot join her. Advocacy! Of course, Glinda never meant to be kind, but cruel. She thought the hat was hideous and would serve to embarrass and shame Elphaba. And it did. Indubitably, the entire school shames her for her appearance. And in response, she does what I would describe as a dance of resilience. A physical manifestation of her pain, discomfort, and defiance. Cynthia's performance of anguish and sorrow here is poignant and empowering. She does in this scene, what she does throughout the entirety of the film. Which is add weight and gravity to the space. Glinda soon joins her in this dance, seemingly as a show of solidarity, where she is met with equal stares of confusion. However, soon after joining her, this movement is embraced and even emulated by the rest of the student body. This scene is incredibly emotional because I am reminded of the nefarious nature of white guilt. Glinda’s support is not the result of an intrinsic opposition to emotional violence, or even because she understood that she had caused it. It was because she benefited directly from Elphaba’s advocacy and in turn conspired to bring her shame. White guilt and the advocacy it begets is restricted to the emotional distance of sympathy and never rooted in the earnestness of empathy. 

This truth is further evidenced by Elphaba offering Glinda the one thing she’s wanted all her life, a trip to meet the wonderful wizard of Oz. But upon realizing the wizard is nothing more than a charlatan with no real power invested in the degradation of the animals of Oz — who can certainly be interpreted as a minority group in this story with little power being systematically oppressed — she takes a stand. She, a woman who understands deeply what it means to be a pariah, fights against the greatest power in Oz, public perception. 

Glinda bore witness to the wickedness of the wizard, and as such understood deeply the fable of the “wicked witch” narrative. She was given the chance to side with justice. To side with true goodness and join Elphaba. But instead, she chose to side with the optics of goodness. She chose to side with power because she is the kind of person who prizes power over people. 

This is NOT a story about friendship. This is a story about the contingencies of allyship. Historically white women, in particular those of means, have chosen themselves over everyone else. And unfortunately, that truth is reflected in this story. Much like the archetype and cultural iconography associated with Glinda the Good, white “feminists” are often more interested in constructing an exclusive framework of liberation that appears to be concerned with the many, but only benefits the few.

The verisimilitude of Wicked cannot be understated as it parallels the relationship we’ve all been conditioned to have to the beautiful lies of goodness and its often contradiction with the ugly truth. A truth that is much more complicated than a green skinned wicked

witch or a golden haired heroine.