How does one even begin to engage with a cultural cornerstone as monumental as The Wizard of Oz? The 1939 film adaptation of L. Frank Baum’s classic books isn’t just a movie; it’s a global touchstone, a work that has shaped the imaginations of generations for nearly a century. It’s among the most widely viewed films of all time, integral to the childhoods of countless individuals. In many ways, The Wizard of Oz functions as a cultural Rorschach test. While we’ve all seen and been moved by its magic, the ways we interpret and internalize it differ profoundly, shaped by our unique perspectives, memories, and nostalgia. This variability in interpretation—how the same iconic work resonates in deeply personal ways—makes films that actively engage with the themes, text, and subtext of The Wizard of Oz incredibly compelling cinematic endeavors.
From The Wiz to Under the Rainbow to Return to Oz to Oz: The Great and Powerful to the especially insightful Lynch/Oz, each subsequent work that seeks to actively engage in cinematic conversation with The Wizard of Oz demands nothing less than the sum total of its creator’s artistic ambitions. What Sidney Lumet saw in the film was what he carried into The Wiz. What Sam Raimi saw in the film was what he carried into Oz: The Great and Powerful. And what David Lynch saw in the film is something he has carried into his entire filmography in many ways. Yet, these films could not be more different, each filmmaker having experienced The Wizard of Oz in a uniquely personal way, on an entirely different level.
Wicked, the Tony Award-winning 2003 Broadway musical, saw multi-award-winning composer and lyricist Stephen Schwartz engaging with The Wizard of Oz in a uniquely subversive way. Loosely based on Gregory Maguire’s 1995 novel Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, Schwartz’s musical recontextualized the 1939 film with his own musical reinterpretation. The results were staggeringly successful, creating a production that expanded The Wizard of Oz into new subjective territory for an entirely new generation of fans.
Now, over twenty years later, Jon M. Chu’s film adaptation of Schwartz’s musical has arrived, tapping into multiple waves of nostalgia spanning nearly a century. Chu brings his distinct vision of The Wizard of Oz to yet another new audience. And honestly, despite my initial reservations, Jon M. Chu has delivered a fantastic adaptation of the stage play—one that seems destined to become a generation-defining success in its own right.
Chu’s Wicked is a vast, sprawling cinematic venture that takes its time, granting the material a sense of reverence, resonance, and, at times, excessive indulgence that ultimately serves it well. The decision to split the two-and-a-half-hour stage play into two films initially raised concerns among fans—especially when it was revealed that this first part alone would run for two-and-a-half hours. However, translating a stage production to the screen requires significant retrofitting and adjustments to ensure that what works in one medium thrives in another.
Too often, film adaptations of Broadway musicals—Jon M. Chu’s own In the Heights included—fall into the trap of condensing the full musical into a two-hour runtime. This approach frequently results in films that feel rushed, omit significant portions of the original material, and fail to give characters or performances the space they need to resonate. Thankfully, Wicked largely avoids these pitfalls by providing itself with the extended runway of a two-film structure, allowing the narrative and performances to breathe and flourish in their own right.
While the two-part structure could have risked leaving each half feeling incomplete, this film suggests otherwise. Schwartz’s original songbook is not only packed with memorable songs but also laden with meaningful character development, propelling an epic journey across the stage play’s two acts. By splitting the story, Chu’s Wicked ensures that even one half brims with impactful momentum and transformative moments.
Songs are extended, character arcs are given room to breathe, and the world of Oz is richly expanded with stunning cinematic flourishes that evoke a sense of wonder reminiscent of the original film’s Professor Marvel. Paradoxically, Wicked plays much like a live performance of a beloved song—where the artist takes the opportunity to reimagine the composition, pacing, and dynamics, creating a version that both honors the audience’s expectations and adds something new to the experience. Through this lens, Chu’s Wicked feels like a dialogue between the original work and its audiences, delivering a fresh yet reverent take on a classic.
And it certainly doesn’t hurt matters that the cast is absolutely incredible. Michelle Yeoh and Jonathan Bailey are fantastic in their respective roles, and Jeff Goldblum is an absolutely scenery-salivating delight at the Wizard himself. However, as one might expect, Wicked kind of lives or dies based upon the strength of its two leads, and fortunately, the film’s Glinda and Elphaba are very much up to the task and then some. Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo are each absolutely astonishing, dominating the screen and delivering instantly iconic iterations of these characters in their own ways. Striking a fantastic balance between finding new meat on the bones of these characters and stories and engaging in insightful conversation with earlier iterations of these roles (sometimes a bit too much, which we’ll dig into a bit more in a minute), these performances are surprising in their deftness and definitiveness. Each of the actress’ vocal performances are frequently jaw-dropping, and their harmonies are haunting and awe-inspiring in equal measure. Grande and Erivo are the beating heart of the film, and the remarkable caliber of their deliveries is a huge part of what makes Chu’s Wicked such a success.
Another testament to the film’s strength as an adaptation is that, as a longtime fan of the Broadway source material, I entered the theater with songs I assumed would be my favorite and left with very different answers. Erivo’s first-act rendition of “The Wizard and I” is a staggering vocal accomplishment, and Chu’s direction essentially gives Elphaba a big ‘I want’ musical setpiece that actively mirrors Dorothy’s own (“Over the Rainbow”) from The Wizard of Oz is astonishing. It completely recalibrated the song and its impact on me in a way I could not have possibly anticipated. Similarly, Grande and Erivo’s harmonies on “What is This Feeling?” paired exquisitely with Chu’s playful, imaginative, and juxtaposing imagery to make that setpiece a standout. On top of all of that, Chu also opted to turn one of my personal favorite songs from the musical, “Dancing Through Life,” into a full fifteen-minute-long sequence in the film, full of some of the most complex and nuanced dance work Chu has spotlighted since his Step Up days. Choreographer Christopher Scott does great work throughout the film, but nowhere does he get to strut his stuff quite as impressively as he does here.
And then, of course, there’s “Defying Gravity.” The defining central anthem of the original play and the emotionally-charged creative lynchpin that provided the initial impetus for splitting the story across two films in the first place, since Chu and team knew doing so meant they could close out the first film on “Defying Gravity,” the song gets a firing-on-all-cylinders translation that sees Chu’s filmmaking at its most exuberant, the editing at its most incisively knowing, and both Erivo and Grande at their emotional high-points. It’s so good that it makes up for so much of the rest of the third act feeling excessively rushed despite the elongated runtime.
Which we should talk about. Wicked is a stunning accomplishment, an adaptation of the stage play that feels as true in essence to its own source material as something like Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings films did to theirs; an instantly iconic iteration of this tale that will stand the test of time and become definitive for generations to come. But it certainly isn’t without its faults. For as infectiously joyous as the first two acts of the film often are, the pacing in the third act feels misshapen and ill-advised. Twists and turns don’t play out with any real room for resonance, and the fact that so much of the film’s runtime is spent at Shiz University winds up being a detriment when its big climactic battle suddenly takes on so much larger stakes without the foundation to properly hold them.
Elsewhere, the cinematography and color-grading of the film are great anytime the characters are on an interior set, but anytime they set foot outside, it is in glaring, obscenely ugly, and abrasive sunlight. This consistent aesthetic choice winds up blowing out a lot of the exterior frames and actively diluting the color value of some of the film’s most meticulously built sets (the production design is so great, I just wish I could appreciate the colors!), which is a genuine shame. For a film that gets so much right with regard to its inextricable relationship to The Wizard of Oz, it could have really used a bit more of that Technicolor touch.
Nowhere is the difference between interior and exterior more apparent than in the film’s opening number, which cuts from harsh outdoor crowd scenes to an incandescently lit indoor tango. The indoor sequences are lit with artistic flair and dynamic sculpting by cinematographer Alice Brooks. I wish that craft were carried more directly into the outdoor sequences. Also, there’s a cheeky insertion into the middle of a late-in-the-second-act musical number that is sure to elicit applause as the film essentially goes all in on nostalgic indulgence ala Spider-Man: No Way Home, but it is very much to the detriment of the present-tense momentum and emotional stakes of the story at that moment.
RGM GRADE
(B)
Overall, Jon M. Chu’s Wicked is a delightful surprise. The state of musical adaptations has been so routinely abysmal over the last several years (from Catsto Dear Evan Hansen to Mean Girls) that it genuinely took me by surprise how articulate, well-crafted, and insightful of an adaptation Wicked is. It isn’t without shortcomings, but Wicked is a big, bold, incredibly ambitious adaptation that I can’t help but deeply admire. It can’t always get off the ground, but when its craft does defy gravity, it shoots straight into the stratosphere.
