Peter Charney’s review published on Letterboxd:
Overview:
News of a “Wicked” movie first surfaced in 2004, and somehow, twenty years ago, I was already discussing this adaptation at musical theatre camp, passionately debating who should (or shouldn’t) be cast. Now, more than two-thirds of my lifetime later, one of Broadway’s most monumental works finally reaches the big screen, arriving at a moment when humanity arguably needs its message the most. The main idea of Wicked—the radicalization of individuals against a fraudulent governing authority that wields fear as a tool for power—resonates more deeply in 2024 than it probably should.
Director Jon M. Chu captures this idea poignantly, focusing his lens on an ostracized protagonist and reimagining Oz’s witch as a revolutionary hero for our times. As expected (but no less breathtaking), Cynthia Erivo embodies Elphaba’s transformation with majestic intensity. Meanwhile, Ariana Grande’s ethereal, almost transatlantic vocal cadence—reminiscent of something recorded on a 1930s tin-can microphone—feels perfectly attuned to Glinda’s character. At the heart of it all is the emotional bond between these two “best friends,” which remains key to Wicked’s enduring power. To put it briefly, fans of the Broadway musical should leave wholeheartedly satisfied with this cinematic adaptation.
More on movie musicals:
Adapting a stage musical for the screen presents unique challenges because of the fundamental differences between the two forms. Perhaps the most significant difference lies in how each medium uniquely controls perspective. On stage, directors rely on lighting, movement, and shifts within a fixed physical space to guide the audience’s focus. Film, on the other hand, allows total control over what the audience sees through framing, camera movement, and editing. This can sometimes detract from the magic of live theatre, where the audience shares a connection to a consistent physical world that transforms before their eyes. However, when employed intentionally, film introduces a unique set of tools that can add new layers of specificity to how a musical story is told.
During “Dancing Through Life,” for example, Jon M. Chu constructs a sequence of shots that show Elphaba embarrassing herself yet choosing to stand her ground, with Glinda stepping in to defend her new friend. What could be effectively communicated onstage with a tableau—one image encapsulating the entire exchange—is instead broken down and expanded into an entire series of story beats (with a gorgeous new piece of musical underscoring) that expresses the evolution of their friendship in an emotionally impactful and distinctly cinematic way. Non-linear editing further places viewers inside Elphaba’s psyche, allowing her past to seep into present moments and deepening our understanding of her self-actualization (e.g., a vision in “Defying Gravity”). Another example would be the subtle use of “For Good” (a song we won’t get until in full until Part 2) as underscore for moments that editorially feel like it cinematically expands upon the relationship of the pair. Meanwhile, close-ups offer a distinct form of intimacy—what effectively feels like the film version of hitting an actor downstage with a spotlight by allowing us easy access to the interiority of the characters through the expressiveness of their eyes (e.g., the self-discovery in “The Wizard and I”).
There’s also plenty of visual creativity and clever musical staging, from the playful split-screen and montage editing in “What Is This Feeling?” to the rotating bookshelves and acrobatics of “Dancing Through Life.” The shadow play in “Something Bad” and “A Sentimental Man,” make both of those songs stronger here, and “Popular” exemplifies Chu’s knack for setting precise sync points between his musical staging, camera blocking, and cuts to the score. Many of Glinda’s gestures are so wonderfully aligned to the song’s rhythm and prominent beats—the quick camera push-ins on the “You…will…be…” leading to the first chorus is both sharply cinematic and very musical theatre. However, contrary to expectation (and personal preference), he rarely cuts on the button of a song, instead using transitions to glide into the next scene or fade out entirely, as in the case of “I’m Not That Girl.” I think Chu’s style would benefit from letting the big finale of a song do its thing by swelling and then stopping with an abrupt sense of excitement. Chu and team often extends songs with added beats to the point of disrupting the natural momentum of the music and lyric, but overall, he wields his cinematic tools deliberately. At its best, this film Wicked is able to craft moments of detail and specificity that deepens the protagonists’ central relationship and enrich the thematic complexity of their world.
True transcendence in musical theatre often relies on the spectacle of stagecraft, with audiences using their imaginations to fill in the gaps. In contrast, movie musicals must create their own kind of magic, justifying the experience within a medium typically grounded in fully realized physical worlds. Production designer Nathan Crowley rises to this challenge, crafting a magnificent collection of colossal interior sets to house a majority of the film’s song sequences. The already high-fantasy aesthetic ensures the “song world” feels intrinsic to the narrative, allowing characters to burst into song and dance without disrupting the film’s cohesion. While the screenplay’s expanded world-building results in some slightly drawn-out book scenes between musical numbers, the transitions into song are seamless because the world feels wholly unified. Massive orchestrations (with over 80 musicians!), intricately detailed props and costume designs, and an energized ensemble all contribute greatly to the extravagance of the Wicked experience.
Building on its cinematic strengths, Wicked pays homage to the heart of its stage origins while skillfully reimagining the story through the language of film, offering a fresh yet faithful take on the beloved musical. While a few adjustments to rhythm and pacing might enhance the flow, these minor shortcomings pale in comparison to the adaptation’s overall successes, especially when measured against the typical contemporary movie musical blockbuster. Most importantly, watching Wicked on the big screen with an audience that applauds after every number evokes a sense of shared experience reminiscent of attending live theater. Musicals, with their unique ability to blend vulnerability and grandeur, encourage us to suspend our disbelief and connect with one another in a way few other art forms are capable of. When Wicked soars, it makes us feel like we can do the same.
