By Rasesh Patell
Founder & Chief Critic, CharotarDaily.com
There are films, and then there are cultural events. The journey of Wicked from a beloved but dense novel to a generation-defining Broadway behemoth, and now, to the silver screen, has been freighted with the kind of expectation that can crush a project before the first frame is even shot. As a critic, one approaches such a film with a shield of cynicism, ready for the inevitable compromises and disappointments of adaptation. I am thrilled, and frankly a little shocked, to report that you can leave your shields at home. Jon M. Chu’s Wicked: For Good is not merely an adaptation; it is a cinematic rebirth. It’s a jaw-dropping, emotionally staggering, and visually spectacular triumph that understands the soul of the stage show while unapologetically using the full, untethered power of cinema to elevate it into something entirely new.
This is not a simple retelling. This is a grand deconstruction and a glorious reassembly, a film that will stand as a benchmark for the modern movie musical for years to come.
The Chu Effect: Directing Oz with Maximalist Glee
Let us begin with the maestro in the director’s chair. Jon M. Chu, who previously demonstrated his flair for vibrant, kinetic storytelling in Crazy Rich Asians and, more pertinently, In the Heights, was the perfect, and perhaps only, choice for this material. Where other directors might have been intimidated by the theatricality of Wicked, Chu leans into it with unrestrained joy. His approach is one of cinematic maximalism. He understands that Oz is not a place for subtlety; it is a world of impossible architecture, shimmering light, and emotions painted in the boldest of colours.
From the opening sequence, Chu establishes a scale that the stage could only ever suggest. We don’t just arrive at Shiz University; we soar over the jagged, emerald-tipped mountains of Oz, swooping down into a meticulously crafted campus that feels both magical and tangible. This isn’t a set; it's a world. Consider the student arrival scene, a riot of colour, movement, and intricate choreography that feels less like a staged number and more like an organic explosion of youthful energy. Chu’s camera is a participant, not an observer, weaving through crowds, catching whispered conversations, and mirroring the dizzying excitement of a new world. He uses the visual language of film not to contain the musical numbers, but to detonate them.
This is most evident in the film’s centrepiece and litmus test: “Defying Gravity.” On stage, the number is a masterclass in theatrical magic, relying on lighting and a single wire lift. Chu transforms it into an operatic, earth-shattering declaration of self. The sequence begins with a claustrophobic intensity, the camera tight on Cynthia Erivo’s face as her resolve hardens. But as the orchestra swells, the walls of the Emerald City palace seem to fall away. The camera pulls back, and back, and back, until Elphaba is a soaring figure against a tumultuous sky, the city sprawling beneath her. Chu doesn't just show her flying; he makes you feel the wind, the vertigo, the terrifying and exhilarating freedom of her choice. It’s a moment that justifies the film's entire existence.
Cinematography: Painting with a Palette of Emerald and Rose
Visually, Wicked is a feast, and cinematographer Alice Brooks deserves immense credit for crafting a visual language that is both cohesive and dynamically contrasting. The film is a tale of two palettes. Glinda’s world is all soft pastels, rose-gold light, and shimmering lens flares—a world seen through a bubble, beautiful but slightly unreal. Brooks shoots these scenes with a delicate, floating quality, the camera often gliding as if on air.
In stark contrast, Elphaba’s world is one of deep shadows, earthy tones, and sharp, sometimes uncomfortable, angles. When we are with her, the lighting is more naturalistic, the textures more gritty. This visual dichotomy is not just aesthetic; it’s thematic. The film visually separates the manufactured perfection of the Ozian elite from the raw, misunderstood reality of Elphaba. A prime example is the scene in Dr. Dillamond’s classroom. The lighting is stark, casting long shadows that underscore the growing menace of the political changes in Oz, a stark contrast to the sun-drenched frivolity of the Shiz quad just outside. The Emerald City itself is a masterwork of production design and cinematography—not just a green city, but a city of a thousand shades of jade, malachite, and chartreuse, gleaming under an artificial light that feels both wondrous and oppressive.
The Screenplay: The Courage to Add and Expand
Adapting a beloved two-and-a-half-hour musical, especially when splitting it into two parts, is a narrative minefield. Screenwriters Winnie Holzman (who wrote the original musical’s book) and Dana Fox navigate it with remarkable skill. They wisely resist the urge to simply film the play. Instead, they use the space afforded by cinema to flesh out the world and deepen the emotional stakes.
The most successful expansion is the subplot involving Dr. Dillamond, the goat professor. In the film, we see more of his life outside the classroom, his family, and the creeping, insidious nature of the "Animals should be seen and not heard" movement. This provides a tangible, heartbreaking context for his eventual silencing and makes Elphaba’s burgeoning activism feel less like a plot point and more like a deeply personal, moral imperative. It adds a layer of political verisimilitude that makes the fantasy world feel alarmingly relevant.
The decision to split the film is, of course, the elephant in the room. I can confirm that Wicked: For Good does not feel like half a story. It feels like a complete, satisfying first act of an epic. The narrative arc—from rivalry to begrudging respect to a profound, soul-deep friendship between Elphaba and Glinda—is fully realized. The film ends precisely where it should, at the climax of "Defying Gravity," leaving the audience not on a cheap cliffhanger, but on a moment of powerful, earned transformation. The emotional journey of this first film is whole.
The Performances: A Quartet of Thespian Magic
A musical lives or dies on its performances, and Wicked assembles a cast that doesn’t just hit the notes; they inhabit the souls of their characters.
Cynthia Erivo as Elphaba: This is a force-of-nature performance, a volcanic eruption of talent that will be remembered for decades. Erivo possesses the vocal firepower to shatter glass, but her true genius lies in her vulnerability. From her first moments on screen, hunched and guarded, she conveys a lifetime of hurt and ostracization. Watch her during the quiet moments, like her heartbreakingly gentle rendition of “I’m Not That Girl.” The power in her voice is matched only by the pain in her eyes. And when she finally unleashes in "Defying Gravity," it's not just a song; it’s a catharsis, a primal scream of identity that will leave you breathless. She is, in a word, definitive.
Ariana Grande as Glinda: Let the skeptics be silenced. This is not stunt casting; it is an act of perfect synergy. Grande uses her pop-star effervescence and impeccable comedic timing to bring "Popular" to life in a whirlwind of giddy, hilarious energy. But her performance is far from one-note. Grande masterfully charts Glinda’s evolution from a shallow, self-obsessed socialite to a woman burdened by conscience and complicity. The subtle cracks in her perfect facade, the flicker of doubt in her eyes as she witnesses the Wizard’s machinations, are beautifully played. She harmonizes with Erivo not just vocally, but emotionally, creating a chemistry that is the undeniable, beating heart of this film.
Jeff Goldblum as The Wizard: Goldblum is not so much playing the Wizard as he is revealing the Wizard to have been Jeff Goldblum all along. His signature blend of quirky charm, avuncular warmth, and a vaguely unsettling menace is deployed to perfection. In his hands, the Wizard of Oz is not a simple charlatan but a charismatic, deeply insecure politician who has started to believe his own propaganda. His rendition of "A Sentimental Man" is a masterclass in disarming manipulation.
Michelle Yeoh as Madame Morrible: Where the stage version of Morrible can sometimes lean into caricature, Oscar-winner Michelle Yeoh gives her a terrifying, regal stillness. She is a political operator of the highest order, her every smile a calculation, her every word a veiled threat. The chilling quietness of her delivery makes her pronouncements of "wickedness" land with the force of a death sentence.
Final Verdict
Wicked: For Good is a stunning, overwhelming cinematic experience. It is a film that respects its source material enough to know when to adhere to it and when to bravely expand upon it. Jon M. Chu has crafted a musical for the modern age, one that is bursting with colour, heart, and soaring spectacle, while being anchored by a set of towering, career-defining performances. It is a profound story of friendship, identity, and the courage it takes to speak truth to power, wrapped in one of the most visually resplendent packages of the year. While the true test will be how the second part concludes the saga, this first installment stands on its own as a dazzling, emotionally resonant, and utterly triumphant piece of filmmaking. It doesn’t just fly; it soars.
Final Score: 9.5/10
Who Should Watch This?
Devotees of the Broadway Show: Absolutely. You will be thrilled by the reverence for the source material and awed by the new cinematic scale. Go with an open mind and prepare to see your favorite show in a breathtaking new light.
Fans of Movie Musicals: This is your Chicago, your Moulin Rouge! for this generation. It’s an essential, benchmark-setting entry into the genre. A must-see.
Newcomers to Oz: If you’ve never seen the show, this is the perfect entry point. The film does a brilliant job of world-building and establishing the emotional stakes, requiring no prior knowledge.
Cynics Who Think Movie Musicals Are Dead: This is the film that might just change your mind. The sheer passion, craft, and blockbuster energy on display are undeniable. Give it a chance.
