Wickedly Subversive
“I’m through accepting limits
‘Cuz someone says they’re so
Some things I cannot change
But ’til I try, I’ll never know” (Elphaba)
In retrospect, watching Wicked was almost inevitable. I’ve heard about it for years. My sister-in-law is a big fan of musical theater. She’s seen a lot of shows on Broadway, and Wicked is her absolute favorite. Hands down. My 9-year-old daughter shares a lot of interests with her aunt, including musical theater. My daughter goes to musical theater camp in the summer, and she shares her aunt’s interest in Wicked. So, when the movie rolled out, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that I would take my daughter to see the movie on opening weekend. Wickedly Subversive
Even so, I knew only a little about the play. Many years ago, I read (some of) the books by L. Frank Baum (he published 14 novels in the series). I also watched the 1939 film Wizard of Oz, directed by Victor Fleming and starring Judy Garland and Margaret Hamilton. Watching Wizard of Oz was an annual family event. The film aired on TV once a year. At that time, we had only a black and white TV. So, when the film changed from black and white (Kansas) to full technicolor (Oz), we never even noticed. It was only after my sister saw the film at a friend’s house, that she reported to us (and rubbed in our faces) the dramatic change. But, when I was young, the wicked witch’s “little pretties” scared the crap out of me.
So, my daughter and I attended opening weekend. The theater was full, though no one dressed in full costume and no one jumped up and sang along. I had very few expectations for the film. Of course, I had seen some of the ad campaigns. How could one not? They are ubiquitous. The Wicked ads are probably even more pervasive and omnipresent than the Barbie ads were. I knew who the two leads were going to be. I knew that the play is a prequel to the Wizard of Oz. And I knew that they would be singing “Defying Gravity.”
In the end, I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised. Not just at the singing and acting. Not just at the set design. Not just at the 3D effects. No, I was surprised by the themes and messages of the film. Who knew that a 2024 film, based on a 2003 play, based on a 1995 novel, based on a 1939 movie, based on 1900 book could have such resonances for 2024 US/global politics? In turns out that Wicked is surprisingly subversive.
What surprised me even more was just how much of what I picked up on was also noticed by my 9-year-old daughter. Initially, I think she was bit overwhelmed. She didn’t have much to say. But over the next day or two, she really started to think about and talk about the movie. Eventually she had a lot to say, and I’m so excited that at least some of the intended audience is seeing the relevant themes and issues presented in the film.
For one, the casting of Cynthia Erivo (Cynthia Onyedinmanasu Chinasaokwu Erivo) was brilliant. A British actor and singer, she has appeared in TV series such as Chewing Gum (2015) and in plays such as The Color Purple (2015–2017). Her talents are fully apparent, and she is only one win away from an EGOT.
Erivo identifies herself as a queer Black woman, and casting her as the green-skinned outsider might have seemed like a bit on the nose. But Erivo herself has suggested that her own experience as a queer woman and as a Black woman added another layer to her role as Elphaba. She knows exactly what it feels like to walk into a room and have people stare (as happens to Elphaba). She knows exactly what it is like to walk into a space where she is not welcome. She knows what it is like to be silenced. And she brings all of that to her character.
Casting Ariana Grande-Butera as Glinda was also a strong choice. For one, it brought a legion of fans to the movie. For another, her voice works well with Erivo’s. For another, she complements Erivo well in that she is the one everyone wants to look at when she walks into the room. Perhaps drawing on her experience playing Cat, Grande-Butera also represents a complete lack of self-awareness, let along the larger awareness of injustice in the world around her. Glinda is not a very nice person.
In one of their joint promos, Erivo and Grande-Butera sing a rhyme about how they were strangers when they met, but that they became “besties — ride or die.” But, they really weren’t, were they? For Glinda, it really wasn’t ride or die. It was “ride until it became inconvenient and hard.”
Glinda is the privileged white philanthropist. She’s the white feminist. She’s the person with a savior complex.
As I have said elsewhere, science fiction (narrowly) or the fantastic (broadly) allows the space to confront Otherness. Elphaba is the Other. Her skin is green. Her clothes are out of style. Her preferences are out of step. And the multiethnic society of Shizz does not fare well. They stare. They comment. They spurn.
Glinda proudly says that she always helps those who are less fortunate than she is — which, in her opinion — is everyone. Obviously, Elphaba does not see it that way. Now, by this point in her life, Elphaba has had a, well, life time of experience of dealing with those who shun her and dismiss her. She expects better, though, at Shizz.
Glinda belittles Elphaba in every way she can, until Elphaba cleverly forces Glinda’s hand. And Glinda, perhaps for all the wrong reasons, steps up and supports Elphaba.
From that moment on, they behave as besties. When Elphaba gets the invitation to see the Wizard of Oz, she invites Glinda along. Would Glinda have done the same? Certainly not before. Possibly not after.
When Elphaba learns that the Wizard is not all he’s cracked up to be, the pieces fall into place, and she realizes that she cannot remain a part of the system. She has to get out. The wizard will be happy to use her — and her difference — in order to achieve his own goals. By this time, the palace guards have chased them both Elphaba and Glinda to the top of the tower. The only way out is down — unless she can defy gravity.
She, again, invites Glinda along. They are besties, aren’t they? There’s nothing that they can’t do together, right? Nope. Glinda opts to stay behind. Glinda opts to remain a part of the system. Glinda consolidates her own ambition. Indeed, we know that she will eventually become the Good Witch of the North.
But when she has the chance to “ride or die,” she steps off. When she has the chance to challenge the system and do good in the world, she opts for the status quo. When she has the chance to help others (as she has already said she always does), she bails.
And the moment between Elphaba and Glinda really is a microcosm of contemporary racial, ethnic, and sexual politics. Who is down for ride? Who is down for their own ambition? Is their support genuine, or performative? For Glinda, it’s the latter. For Elphaba, it’s the real deal.
The other major theme is the presence (and disappearance) of the animal teachers. In the film, we see one animal teacher Dr. Diamond. The goat informs his students that animal teachers used to be common, but that the authorities are cracking down on the practice. Elphaba has followed Dr. Diamond one evening; she learns of the fear among the animals. She assures Diamond that she is with them all.
So, when the authorities enter the classroom to forcibly remove Diamond — and proclaim loudly that animals will be properly caged and trained not to talk any more — Elphaba jumps in to action. She cannot stand by while her fellow beings are caged. She cannot stand by while they literally have their voices taken away. She will not be silent even as the animals are silenced. She cannot watch them be rounded up and deported.
And, of course, because she fights against the system, because she fights for the rights and lives of the marginalized, Elphaba is the wicked one. Glinda remains behind, and becomes the beloved “good” witch.
Elphaba asks the wizard why he’s rounding up the animals and putting them in cages. He tells her that “back home” (meaning the good ‘ole U S of A), they know how to unify people — find a common enemy. Here, they literally “scapegoat” Professor Diamond. Elphaba is public enemy #1 because she sides with the scapegoats. She’s committed to justice and freedom for the marginalized. She’s the enemy of the wizard.
And, as I noted above, my 9-year-old daughter recognized that. She saw the hypocrisy in Glinda. She saw the goodness in Elphaba. She saw the harm caused by the wizard (to the animals, to Elphaba).
Post-2024 election in the USA, we see signs and hashtags that say #NotGoingBack. Elphaba sings:
“And nobody in all of Oz
No wizard that there is or was
Is ever gonna bring me down.”
We’re going to need more people that attitude….
Ritch Calvin is an Associate Professor of Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies at SUNY Stony Brook. He is the author of Queering SF: Readings, Feminist Epistemology and Feminist Science Fiction (Palgrave McMillan) and edited a collection of essays on Gilmore Girls (McFarland). His most recent book is Queering SF Comics: Readings (2024, Aqueduct Press).