WICKED
On Empathy for Elphaba
There are two kinds of people - those who have seen Wicked and those who haven’t. That first category is comprised of those who loved the book (which turns 30 next year) and/or the Broadway show (which turned 20 last year!) and who have been waiting anxiously for this big-screen adaptation and also the folks were only tangentially aware of this retelling of The Wizard of Oz but hopped on the hype train.
This first group is large. The film has already made $360 million globally in two weekends, which means it’s likely made its money back already.1
Wicked is undeniably a huge success, a box office juggernaut and a cultural moment on par with last year’s Barbie movie. The film resonates with a huge swath of the population. In my interview with director Jon Chu (see below), he said the reason he chose Wicked for his next project was how timely the film’s message is.
He’s not wrong. In an era where authoritarianism is on the rise, empowered in large part by religiosity, Wicked is as urgent now as it ever was. I want to explore some of the key insights the film has to offer those of us who find ourselves trapped in an Oz we no longer recognize, fighting for the dream of home.
It’s Not Easy Being Green
Wicked is the origin story of the Wicked Witch of the West, who actually gets a name - Elphaba - in the prequel. Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) was born green - an oddity even in the magical land of Oz, and throughout her life, her deepest desire is to be turned a “normal” color.
That’s not actually her deepest desire. When Fiyero (Bridgerton’s Jonathan Bailey) marvels that Elphaba “doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her,” Galinda (Ariana Grande as the future Good Witch of the North) replies, “Of course she does. She just pretends not to.” Galinda is right - Elphaba’s deepest desire is to belong, and she sees her skin color as the thing that keeps her from belonging. Her green skin is emblematic of everything wrong with her. It’s what killed her mother, crippled her sister and caused her father to hate her. It’s what has made her an outcast.
What keeps her from being a “normal” Ozian, she’s convinced, is her green skin. So if she only gets one wish? It’s to be a “normal” color.
(There’s something else that sets Elphaba apart: she possesses innate magical power the likes of which hasn’t been seen in Oz in a generation. The likes of which the powers that be fear is fading from Oz altogether. But Elphaba learned early on that such power only makes her more of a freak. So she stuffs it down, down, down. Until, that is, Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh), Shiz University’s sole professor of magic, marvels at her strength. Morrible is sure that, once Elphaba harnesses her power, she’ll be off to see the Wizard.
But all is not well in Oz. There’s a subtle war being waged on the talking animals, including Shiz history professor (and goat) Dr. Dillamond (Peter Dinklage), who is fired for teaching Critical Animal Theory. Dillamond laments that animals all over Oz are losing their ability to speak, devolving into ordinary beasts. Dillamond is convinced this is because someone (duh it’s the Wizard) finds it useful.
When Dillamond is removed from class, only Elphaba stands up for him. It’s precisely because she has experienced marginalization that makes her sympathetic to the plight of the animals of Oz. Though, as a human, Elphaba is not in danger of losing her position and status like Dillamond and the other animals, she has known rejection and oppression. The wrongs Ozian authorities visit on the animals are more tangible to her.
Everything crystallizes for Elphaba when she meets the Wizard. He offers to change her skin color, asking if this is her heart’s desire. Surprising herself, Elphaba refuses, instead asking the Wizard to help the talking animals.
Instead, the Wizard tricks Elphaba into turning his monkey guards into an arial espionage team, and Elphaba realizes it is the Wizard himself who is behind the oppression of animals. What’s more, he’s unable to read the fabled Grimmerie - a tome of ancient magic intelligible only to Oz’ promised savior.
The Wizard justifies himself by explaining that, when arrived in Oz, the land was divided and marked by infighting. “Nothing brings people together,” he marvels, “like a common enemy.” The demonization of the animals, he insists, is “good for all Ozians.”
Elphaba spots the lie in his words at once: that can only be true if he defines “Ozians” in a way that excludes the animals themselves. This insight leads Elpha to a deeper realization: that there’s nothing wrong with her. That she could fly if she would only reject all those voices who tell her she can’t.
Elphaba’s journey from self-hating hopeful to disillusioned activist resonates with many who are deconstructing the conservative Christianity that raised us to love all but voted thrice for a con-man who demonizes those who oppose him.
But before we talk about that, we have to talk about how Galinda embodies the promise - and problems - of allyship.
Pay No Attention to the Witch Beside the Curtain!
Galinda is the classic popular-girl/Queen Bee archetype. She always gets what she wants, she’s surrounded by sycophants and has carefully curated every part of her life for maximum impact (including her hair flips!). Initially, Elphaba represents an existential threat to Galinda both because she is equally interesting to the Shiz U student body and because she captures Madam Morrible’s attentions in the way Galinda was sure she would. In front of the gathered student body, Galinda vows to find a way to cure Elphaba of her unfortunate affliction (her green skin) not because Elphaba seeks out her help, but as a way for Galinda to reaffirm the social hierarchy where she is the most popular and Elphaba is either ignored, mocked or pitied.
Galinda embodies the White Savior trope - offering charity she can’t actually provide to a person who may or may not even want her help. Galinda’s aid isn’t grounded in needs Elphaba has voiced, but in what Galinda has decided - unilaterally - she needs. Galinda can only see Elphaba through Galinda’s eyes.
Galinda doesn’t change her mind about Elphaba until Elphaba forces Madam Morrible to accept Galinda as a magic student. This act of selflessness on Elphaba’s part opens a space for Galinda to see Elphaba’s innate humanity, and they become friends.
This is unquestionably a good thing. BUT Galinda still can’t see Elphaba as her own person. In the film’s best sequence (personal opinion here, and I won’t fight you if you choose something else), “Popular,” Galinda plans to remake(over) Elphaba in her own image, insisting that, when she’s done, the green gal will be “Popular… just not quite as popular as me!”
Galinda sings at the beginning of popular, “Now that we’re friends, I’m going to make you my new project.” All Galinda’s good works are ultimately about what’s good for Galinda. Nowhere is this more true than when Galinda announces she’s changing her name, dropping the “Ga” that poor Professor Dilliman, with his goaty lack of front teeth, couldn’t pronounce. Galinda will henceforth be known as Glinda, she announces to great fanfare.
Again, this is performative white activism of a kind with the black profile picture on social media. Does anyone remember the #Kony2012? (Joseph Kony is still at large, allegedly hiding in Uganda, in case you were curious.) It’s activism that makes the oppressed into projects for us to fix, or platforms on which we can display our good works, rather than friends, neighbors and coworkers in the fight against injustice.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s good that Galinda is friendly toward Elphaba. But it’s also undeniable that Galinda hasn’t truly learned to have empathy for her. She can still only imagine that Elphaba is a green clone of Galinda, that Elphaba must want the same things Galinda wants, that she sees the world the same way Galinda herself does.
Galinda’s inability to see Elphaba comes to a head when Elphaba confronts the Wizard, and he and Morrible threaten Elphaba with banishment. Galinda pleads with Elphaba to give into the Wizard’s demands, to join him in recreating Oz in his own image. She points out (rightly) that siding with the Wizard will be very good for Elphaba, resulting in power, wealth, fame and the acceptance she craves.
But those aren’t what Elphaba craves. Those are what Galinda craves. Elphaba wants justice, safety and flourishing for all Ozians. She can’t enjoy wealth and power while those like Dilliman suffer.
It’s Galinda’s privilege - marked by her proximity to power - that keep her from caring. She can care about Elphaba (once Elphaba has done something to benefit her materially), but she’s not capable (yet) of caring about all those who are marginalized.
With our two main characters’ journeys sketched out, we can turn now to how the film resonates with those of us processing the trauma of the betrayal of our religious leaders and institutions who promised liberation but voted for bigotry and authoritarianism.
