November 2024 Watch Part 2

Sunday, 1 December 2024

This month has been so busy! My coursework really picked up all at once, so I barely had time to watch anything. Fortunately, I managed to carve out some time to go see a movie in theaters with friends, and I’m glad I had the opportunity to do that. I’m at the start of what is essentially the first proper winter of my life and finding it very different than what I’m used to. It’s so cold and dark… Why isn’t anyone talking about this? Jokes aside, I’m finding I need to structure my days a little differently to combat the weather’s effects on me, but I hope to find more time to get some watches in.

Wicked (2024, dir. Jon M. Chu)

There is something about sitting in a sold-out cinema with friends watching a movie none of you are particularly enjoying, but being entirely unable to say anything about it so as not to disturb other guests. There is something more when after it finishes, you open your mouth to complain and the perfectly nice and very excited woman who is sitting next to you asks your party if it made you cry. And you sort of just have to sit there and answer awkwardly and try to get away as quickly as possible to find somewhere else to discuss it without being incredibly rude to the tens of people around you chatting excitedly about how amazing they found it. I am, at my core, a complainer and a pretentious asshole, but nothing has made me feel like this quite as much as this movie.

Here is the thing: I thought it was completely fine. I have a barrage of criticism to weigh against it that I will discuss in this response, but it was genuinely far better than I expected. When I first heard it was coming, I was both predictably bored by the casting choices that had been revealed and utterly destroyed that it was not a professional recording of the stage show. Unfortunately I stand by my instinct with regards to these aspects, but I really was pleasantly surprised. I fearfully imagined a mid-2000s romcom style placed onto an epic fantasy, and in many ways that is exactly what we got, but at least the ensemble numbers were lively.

Wicked (2024) is a film adaptation of a stage musical of the same name, which is loosely based on the novel Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, which is inspired by the novel The Wonderful Wizard of Oz and its own film adaptation. Conceptually, it is a dream come true for fans of both musicals and adaptations (me!); practically, it is something different. The film adapts the first act of the stage musical, which follows the lives of main characters Elphaba Thropp (later known as the Wicked Witch of the West) and Galinda (later known as Glinda the Good Witch) as they attend Shiz University. The two start off as enemies, but grow into eventual friends; they both participate, to different extents and different ends, in a seminar course led by their headmistress Madame Morrible that tutors them in sorcery.

Putting my finger on the exact issue of this movie is a challenge. Simultaneously I had a problem with just about every aspect of it and thought it was just sort of all right. I think, ultimately, the most obvious flaw was how they went about the process of adaptation. For one, you’re getting what is fully a beat-by-beat reconstruction of the musical, never once taking into account what a different medium might allow for in the story. This means that you see these large musical numbers which mark distinct moments and almost nothing in between them that demonstrates anything happening. We jump around in time and character development like we might on a musical stage, which makes absolutely no sense watching in a movie theater. Despite the runtime being nearly three times the length of the stage show’s first act, virtually nothing about the plot is changed or added. The most we really get is a scene in the beginning of the movie that establishes Elphaba’s interest in the Wizard and her reason for fondness towards the animals of Oz, but this is a scene that gives us nothing we can’t already figure out from the rest of the film. This scene could’ve told us what the world of Oz thinks of the Wizard and why (included at a weirdly last-minute point later on), but instead it tells us that Elphaba is interested in him (easily solvable when she’s introduced later) and, worse, explains “why” she’s so fond of animals. Her innate sense of justice and empathetic feelings after being socially othered are irrelevant—they were nice to her as a kid. Not only that, but it places Elphaba’s introduction to the audience in an entirely different spot. This is a decision that is tied in well during Defying Gravity. That scene visually storytells something really compelling about her character in that moment with regard to how it is choreographed (the falling most specifically), but undercuts the rest of the show with its content. Elphaba as a child reads a storybook about the Wizard, and the implications of that are too much to unpack here; you could say something interesting about her looking for a particular sort of figure in her life especially in contrast to how the rest of that scene plays out, but that is not a reading that works well when she meets him later on. Additions like this ended up being meaningless to the actual story and felt like a cheap way to “explain” something that never needed to be explained; more than character, it reveals a distrust of the audience I absolutely cannot respect. If nothing else, at least they were few in number.

This begs the question: what makes the runtime so long? It is difficult to say, but I would attribute it to excessive establishing shots and scenes that drag out far too long. The number Defying Gravity is a good example of this as well, but I want to focus on the issues with Dancing Through Life. This is an important song in the musical as it marks the major turning point in Elphaba and Galinda’s relationship, with each of them suddenly seeing a different view of the other and reaching out to start cultivating a friendlier relationship. Most prominently this occurs in the Ozdust Ballroom, when Elphaba goes dancing and is met with silence and stares. It’s an uncomfortably awkward scene in the stage show, but that awkwardness has meaning and merit. We must sit for so long with the discomfort of Galinda knowing what she’s done and reckoning with how she will make it up to Elphaba. The scene in the movie dragged out for far too long, the music and speed making the tone somber rather than uncomfortable. When you see this scene in the stage show, it’s not uncommon for people in the audience to literally laugh at Elphaba’s dance. This adds to the tragedy of the scene—even we who sympathize with her are capable of participating in the cruelty. This is a moment of sadness and reflection on the part of the audience, but the movie did not trust us at all to figure it out for ourselves. Each line felt so overtly telegraphed, long spaces of silence between lines made them too weighty, and did not reflect a muttering in discomfort that might be more appropriately placed. It was a vast misunderstanding of this moment in the show that really exemplified a general confusion over what each moment means in regards to the plot at large. To some extent it worked with the other changes being made, but because those lacked defense in the rest of the show, it ultimately did not work out.

We see something similar in miniscule character changes that come with a flattening and restructuring of what role each character plays. Elphaba, for example, was massively self-possessed in this film. Despite the constant insistence from other characters that she dealt with insecurity and defensiveness, this was never played as anything but confidence. The scene where she introduces herself is funny, and she exudes charm and charisma when it might make more sense for her to feel uncomfortable and self-conscious. This change to her character could absolutely work if it were the direction the film wanted to go in, but the dialogue about her and the choice to keep the songs the same (notably The Wizard and I) meant that it felt out of place and inconsistent. It’s not that I am against these changes being made—in fact, I looked forward to it—but that they don’t work as well as decisions that had already been made for a reason with other parts of the story in mind. Because so little was altered in the songs and beats of the story, these changes really fall flat. For example, if Elphaba is played to be more charming and confident, this could make a beautiful story focusing on her being othered in society and where she might go from there. But practically, because the songs were all the same, the beats between were identical, and nothing was changed in how other characters saw her, this did not work at all. It was a choice that felt out of place and inappropriate, and this can be generalized to the other parts of the movie. It feels as though these decisions were not being taken into consideration more broadly, like asking why they were made that way in the first place and instead prioritizing what immediate effect that would have on the audience.

Galinda’s performance faced a similar problem, specifically in her lack of complexity. We can see this immediately in the opening scene, when there should be any amount of conflicted feelings in her performance and yet we’re getting absolutely nothing. Even the (otherwise bland) cinematography was aware of this, returning to shots that should be obvious in demonstrating her turmoil if you know where the story is going, but the performance barely matches this; instead, we get this straightforwardly ditzy act the entire time, revealing none of the internal motivation yet supplying all the beats. Popular is a great example of this, as the Galinda role is so rooted in physical comedy, but the delivery was just not there. Also, when the scene between Elphaba and Fiyero takes place after, the attempted use of Galinda’s characteristic body language by Elphaba is so clear. Because that wasn’t established, this moment falls flat. This performance removed so many of the big traits that make Galinda Galinda, and that was such a bummer to see because she is so important to the plot.

Overall, we see a similar issue with some of the supporting characters, though not to the extent of our leads. The most prominent issue was the lack of whimsy in their performances. Very few of the jokes landed, with a few exceptions by notable performers (Bowen Yang saved this film’s humor). Though there was a bright, colorful world full of Ozisms, it lacked the whimsical cadence the speech pattern demands. A film may imply more naturalistic performances, but the way the dialogue and visual gags fell flat really meant this movie lost a lot of the charm the world of Oz implies. Many of the casting choices felt type cast, which made me feel like I was seeing nothing new from them for this movie—especially when those roles are not what I like to see from actors who I otherwise respect.

As well, the movie really struggled symbolically in terms of complementing the rest of the movie. It had this massive, colorful world, but it felt empty and barren, like the events of the musical were all that were happening in it, and perhaps ever would. The massive lore of Oz was entirely missing, yet the added references to the 1939 film were multitudinous. On a similar note, the costumes were really lacking. They often looked good, but the choice to go for distinct visual styles for characters, including Elphaba and Galinda, meant that later moments were undercut. Galinda’s look was pink the entire time, once again reducing her character to a caricature and allowing for none of her complexity. The thing is, she always has a distinct aesthetic, but it reflects her class and upbringing and how that impacts her perspective to be so focused on appearances and social approval, it’s not a marketing ploy to give each character a color or an incredibly on-the-nose form of stylization.

Elphaba, meanwhile, has had a distinct sense of style seemingly since childhood, which makes her feel supremely confident and charming. The visual indicators of her journey of finding herself are entirely lost, and so too is the way she does that, through Galinda’s suggestions about her appearance. Gifting her the hat and cape felt insignificant, because it doesn’t mark any kind of change. In fact, despite the favoring of visual cues, none of this ever reflects Elphaba’s development because she simply has the same visual style the whole time. Once again, we have this issue of the songs not matching the rest of the movie, as the lyrics to One Short Day imply this difference between them, but the storytelling overall does not support this. Paired with Elphaba’s confidence in the beginning, no matter how often it is insisted upon otherwise, this makes her feel stagnant. Even in what I would argue is the most indicative action of her development, that she invites Glinda (as she has by this point changed her name) to the Emerald City and while there, they choose what to do. They elect to go to a nail salon, a choice that has a myriad of interpretations that could all be interesting, yet all fall short in some way. Reading merely the script and songs, this is a choice we’d likely associate with Glinda exclusively, but that ignores the beautiful set of acrylics and distinct sense of style Elphaba has already had up to this point. So instead, we might look to Erivo’s portrayal of Elphaba as a Black queer woman and how she tied in aspects of Black femininity to Elphaba’s character. This would be a deeply compelling angle to bring in, especially adding onto how Erivo portrays her with such charm, but is entirely upended by Glinda being the one to present her with the iconic elements of her design. So many of these choices made by the performers and other aspects of production are legitimately captivating interpretations, yet feel so disjointed with the rest of the film.

For all of the characters, the costumes make an attempt at visual language that does not pay off, as it makes the world feel unchanging and the characters feel too distinctive to face development, despite the fact that this is a critical component of the show. So often with this movie do we see these genuine and novel interpretations of this many-decade-old story coming from particular aspects of production, but the rest of the film does not support these choices, and at times actively contradicts them. It simply makes it feel like everyone is on an entirely different page when it comes to adapting this story.

When we bring in other visual aspects, we find similar pitfalls. The sets were gorgeous, and I love that they were actually built, but the symbolic importance of them felt lacking. The editing felt like a music video far too often, with quick cuts between dramatic looks or poses or locations that made it feel more like a mid-2000s makeover scene than anything.

Coming into the soundtrack, I’ve heard many of these actors sing before, and while I was surprised at some of the casting choices due to my knowledge of their musical careers, was ultimately hopeful that at least the lead roles would sound good. Both of these actors are, after all, very strong vocalists. And yet… the music really was not my favorite. The pop sound made worse already weak vocals, shifting the musical genre of the show into something more palatable and far less interesting. It was something I noticed throughout the film despite my limited (nonexistent) musical training. If you’ve seen the stage show any number of times, you know that all of these performers are powerhouses in both character and vocal ability. In the film they were sorely lacking throughout, even though I know so many of them are deeply talented. At the worst point, when you’ve already watched the entire movie up until now and know what to expect, you get to One Short Day. It’s a beautiful ensemble number and featured cameos of Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth; suddenly, we switch back to these quiet, weak vocals of our leads and it is so utterly jarring that my body fully reacted in the theater. It takes this issue you’ve heard the whole movie and magnifies it tenfold, and somehow nobody thought to do anything to fix this during the rest of production.

Wicked is a story that has a number of themes that deeply complement each other; the act of communicating them is a process that involves every aspect of production, and they all need to be present to tell the story in the truest way possible. These themes of friendship, social and political power, and shallowness (to name just a few), are deeply entrenched with one another, but the film’s production emphasized several of these over others in different ways. Perhaps the most egregious way the equilibrium between these themes is disrupted is in the division of the story. Aside from the breaking this into two parts released a year apart speaking to a trend of drawing out releases when the stories they tell do not necessarily demand it, and adding a greater number of films to an IP seemingly in pursuit of profit rather than more room to tell a story, this deeply misunderstands the way the stage show is structured.

The culmination of the threads introduced in the first act comes in the second act. The conflict with the animals and social othering Elphaba faces, the importance of appearances and social power, and the act of exhibiting thoughtfulness and empathy come together with the conflict of our leads and their love interest. There is something to be said here about the feminist positioning of this story, but I want to engage with it today on its own terms. Breaking it off where they did puts a different angle on this moment of “triumph” at the end of this first act. No longer is this a high point undercut nearly immediately with the conflict-ridden second act, and instead is the resolution to the story presented only in the first act. It becomes, then, what you are meant to take from the movie as a whole. Traditionally, you can sit with this for fifteen minutes while you grab a soda and go to the bathroom, but to sit with it for months and months is just so deeply misunderstanding of the way the show is structured. How this movie can adapt the stage show so faithfully (in terms of literal scenes and worldbuilding) and faithlessly at the same time is unfathomable to me. It makes the story into one that communicates this sense of triumph even while so many threads are left unresolved for an entire year between films. Once again, this is not a choice that is inherently bad (even if I’d argue it runs the risk of undercutting the story’s political plot), but one that will really take a lot of work in the second part to make cohere.

I think if you are going into Wicked for a story about friendship and personal freedom, you might be satisfied with this movie. You may even love it if our tastes differ. These are legitimate themes of the musical that are so important to it and the production does moderately well. And yet, as a stage show it has done so much more. It has things to say about shallowness and how it functions in the world as complacency, empathy and thoughtfulness, and fear mongering and hate. It depicts complex relationships and complex characters. But the movie really fails at all of this. I have to wonder if the second part will do more of this work, but I think that reflects my ultimate problem with it: that they chose for the two acts to be two separate films. If we return back to the idea of a flawed adaptation, then many of the issues are explained. The character changes, tonal disparity, visual and story choices, and musical style all fit into this explanation of an adaptation that does not understand (or does not care about) what makes its source material so compelling. In general, we can see this trend of genuinely interesting threads and interpretations that would’ve made this movie into something new and exciting. But so too do we see a tendency to shy away from these changes in a lack of cohesion between different aspects of production. It becomes in this flaw a poor adaptation—something that wants to say something new but sticks too close to the original for that to work out. It wants to have its cake and eat it too, and this means that it fails as an adaptation of the stage musical.

I confess and I worry this response may come off more vitriolic than I actually feel toward this movie. What I said at the start is true: I didn’t like it, but I was pleasantly surprised. The criticisms I have presented here are valid and honest, but I think the story of Wicked and, as much as I am loath to admit it, my love for that story, stand on their own. I have issues with just about every aspect of production, and especially for the lack of cohesion between them; I think this movie feels more like a product than anything, despite how much it must’ve meant to many of the people who worked on it. And while I find that really sad, I find the movie just sort of all right. I fear my response to it is simultaneously engineered and contributing to a general buzz about it that it does not necessarily deserve, and entirely unvoiced with the reactions I’ve heard in my personal life. I hope that by writing this review, I’ll have the film out of my head enough to move on from it, as it frankly just does not warrant the attention it has received from me.