I’ve now encountered the story of Wicked in its book, stage, and movie iterations, and none of them have made any sense to me. I can admire the new film for its set design, choreography, musical performances, and CGI visuals; unfortunately, these achievements are shackled to the latest rendition of the bizarre narrative that reimagines the hag from The Wizard of Oz as a bullied-teen-turned-leftist-freedom-fighter. In some scenes, a theme of intolerance emerges, suggesting serious designs. But the bulk of the runtime instead bops between random spectacles, finally hardening into an inscrutable mishmash of Harry Potter, High School Musical, and Jim Carrey’s How the Grinch Stole Christmas! An intriguing opening, for example, promises a philosophical examination into whether wickedness is inborn or the result of one’s environment. But no such thing materializes: major ensuing sequences include two narcissists falling in love, a bookish girl receiving a lesson in attracting boys, and the casting of an ancient spell that makes monkeys fly. So…it was environment, I guess?
–Jim Andersen