Why 'Wicked' Shouldn't Have Been Divided Into 2 Parts

My earliest memory of “Wicked” is of the now-ubiquitous, Elphaba-green sign outside of the Gershwin Theater. I had just turned 13 and was with my mom on a special trip for my birthday, and we were waiting in line for the “Wicked” ticket lottery. The show was just under a year old, and there was a massive crowd of girls and women all hoping for their names to be called. Like most of them, we walked away from the emerald-green glow of the marquee disappointed but not devastated — because we didn’t even truly know what we were missing.

It’s hard to remember a time like that, when a show could premiere on Broadway without clips instantly leaking onto social media or people posting their reactions to trailers or clips on TikTok. Then, the only guaranteed way to listen to the soundtrack was to buy a physical CD, which was hard to find. Everything was less accessible. It’s easy to forget how much longer we waited for the things that we wanted to see — and that once we did see them, we could still be surprised by what happened.

This is what excites me the most about the “Wicked” movie. If you subtract the inescapable marketing campaign, the lengthy, emotional global press tour and the annoying debates on social media about singing in the theater, at its core, I think Jon M. Chu’s “Wicked: Part 1” democratized a story that’s only been accessible to those with the physical proximity and financial ability to attend a stage production. While the marketing and buzz have ensured that few (if any) people will be able to enter the movie without some idea of what to expect, they’ll still have the chance to go and experience it themselves.

It wasn’t until almost three years after that trip to New York that my mom and I finally saw “Wicked.” We were visiting Chicago, and she got us tickets for a production there. I was on the cusp of turning 16, and it’s hard to describe the immediate, visceral love that I felt for the show and the way it flips the story of the classic 1939 film “The Wizard of Oz” on its head.

Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo in "Wicked."

Giles Keyte/Universal Pictures

From the moment the Wicked Witch of the West is given a name — Elphaba — the musical humanizes her. Everything, from her green skin to the lens through which she sees the world, makes her different. Elphaba feels like she has nothing in common with Glinda, a popular girl and the future Good Witch; she’s “not that girl,” as she sings. Yet she craves friendship and belonging and love, and this between how Elphaba feels and what she wants made both my mom and me feel seen.

We immediately purchased the CD of the soundtrack from the merch booth after the show. We spent that fall belting “Popular” or “Defying Gravity” on the way to school or soccer practice. Eventually, over the next decade, we’d see the show together more times than I can count. The last time we saw it together was the spring of 2018 before my mom died, while I was pregnant with my daughter.

My mom would have loved the movie because it captures the awe we felt when we saw it for the first time. From the unbelievable voices of Cynthia Erivo (Elphaba) and Ariana Grande (Glinda) as they sing live to the cinematic scale of the sets built for each scene (have you heard about the 9 million tulips yet?) to the Oz-ian details of Paul Tazewell’s costumes and Frances Hannon’s hair and make-up design, the movie is a marvel.

It’s so good that it’s hard to remember that it’s only the first half of the story. The film ends with “Defying Gravity,” the final song before the intermission in the stage production. There’s still a second act to follow. While the movie has received overwhelmingly positive reviews, it has also been criticized for its length and the fact that the story was broken up into two movies in the first place. But there hasn’t been enough conversation around what this division has done to the story itself. It assumes audiences know the story already: either they’ve read Gregory Maguire’s novel, on which the musical was based, or they’ve seen the show before.

Many theater kids want to assume ownership of “Wicked,” as if it was adapted to the big screen just for people like them. But that’s not the reality, and I wonder how this two-part setup changes the takeaway for people who will experience this retelling for the first time.

Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande in "Wicked."

Giles Keyte/Universal Pictures

Fans who plan to see the movie because they love “The Wizard of Oz” may even be disappointed because, other than a shot of Dorothy, the scarecrow, the tinman and the cowardly lion walking toward the Emerald City, the characters from that film don’t appear in “Wicked: Part I.” Their stories are woven into Elphaba’s in a way that won’t become apparent until the second film.

Fans who are excited because they’ve always wanted to see “Wicked” may be left with a false impression that it’s a less complicated, simpler story than it is. “Part I” ends at the moment when Elphaba and Glinda have reconciled their differences to support each other as best friends headed in different directions, and as Elphaba has finally claimed her power for herself. That ending — while tense, because Elphaba is being scapegoated as a wicked witch even though she’s trying to help Oz — leaves room for things to get better. Even when the viewer takes into account Glinda’s complicated glimmer of vindication as she lights the effigy of Elphaba on fire in the opening sequence, there’s still room for Elphaba to conquer evil.

However, fans of the musical know that what follows is far less hopeful. In the second act, Elphaba’s good deeds are punished, and while goodness wins in the end, the form of goodness that prevails isn’t “good” at all. The first movie follows so closely to the stage production that I expect the second will reveal these truths when it is released in November 2025 (if people show up to see it).

Still, I’ve been thinking a lot about what this forced intermission does, and it really is forcing us all to “hold space” for “Defying Gravity.” With a storyline that has clear political parallels to today’s world, maybe this pause isn’t a bad thing — and neither is the way it simplifies the first part of the story.

Maybe being left with an image of Elphaba rising into the air to proclaim her power from the system that is trying to ground her is the kind of hope women and people of color need right now. Maybe it’s OK to let ourselves escape into the wonderful hope of “Part I” — and not think about how “Part II” is a year away.