Wicked Review: A Spellbinding Journey from Stage to Screen

Adapting a Broadway musical as beloved as Wicked (musical) into a feature film is no small task. For many theatergoers, Wicked is more than a show; it is a cultural touchstone that shaped their understanding of storytelling, friendship, and the power of standing apart. The stage version built its reputation on powerful vocals, dazzling sets, and emotional depth. Now, under Jon M. Chu’s direction, the film version seeks to preserve these treasured qualities while using the cinematic medium to explore Oz in fresh and vivid ways. The result is a thoughtful adaptation that respects the original and still feels distinct, offering a visual and emotional feast that welcomes both longtime fans and newcomers.

From the first frames, the film immerses us in a world both familiar and newly realized. Wicked takes audiences back before Dorothy’s arrival, focusing on two young women who will one day become the Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda the Good. Their paths are not simple, and these early years set the stage for a friendship that is as complicated as it is loving. Through these origins, we see how misunderstandings and outside pressures shape destinies.

Cynthia Erivo’s portrayal of Elphaba is deeply felt and layered. She conveys the character’s struggles with self-doubt, hope, anger, and idealism through subtle gestures and a steady intensity. When Erivo performs Defying Gravity she creates a moment that sends chills down the spine. Her take on this legendary song does not merely replicate what audiences have seen on stage. Instead, it uses close-ups and cinematic pacing to build tension, emotion, and awe. By the time she soars, we have risen with her, drawn into her fight against societal prejudice and personal limitations. Erivo makes Elphaba’s journey a fully realized dramatic arc, showing us an outcast who embraces her own uniqueness.

Ariana Grande steps into Glinda’s shoes with charm, humor, and confidence. She highlights the character’s bubbly exterior but also hints at the complexities beneath Glinda’s polished surface. Grande’s comedic timing enlivens scenes that could have felt over-the-top. Instead, her Glinda sparkles with wit, physical comedy, and inner conflict. The playful number Popular becomes a showcase for Grande’s ability to balance comedic flutters, larger-than-life expressions, and soaring vocals. Her chemistry with Erivo forms the film’s beating heart. Whenever these two share the screen, the film hums with energy, empathy, and promise.

As the story unfolds, their friendship evolves from mutual suspicion to a bond that feels profound. In quieter moments, such as their duet For Good, we sense how deeply they have influenced each other’s lives. That song becomes not just a lovely melody, but the culmination of emotional threads woven throughout the narrative. When they stand together, singing words of gratitude, forgiveness, and understanding, the effect is powerful. These quieter interludes resonate as much as the grand spectacle.

Visually, Wicked balances grandeur with detail, guided by Chu’s cinematic vision. His experience with dynamic set pieces and intricate choreography serves him well in capturing Wicked’s epic scope.

Every frame bursts with color and movement, from the shimmering Emerald City to the halls of Shiz University. These settings come alive with practical sets and carefully applied digital effects. Instead of relying solely on CGI, the film uses it sparingly, blending it with tangible props, costumes, and sets that feel real enough to touch.

The choreography, overseen by Christopher Scott, brings flair and visual impact to the ensemble numbers. Dancing Through Life is fluid, energetic, and visually inventive. Dancers spin through halls lined with rotating shelves and intricate decorations, their grace and agility serving the story rather than overshadowing it. This careful attention to detail keeps the film grounded, never losing sight of its characters beneath the spectacle.

Not everything is perfect. Certain portrayals of animal characters—like Dr. Dillamond—edge close to the uncanny, where digital enhancements distract more than enchant. Still, these issues pale beside the film’s many strengths. The team’s emphasis on storytelling over effects ensures that even the grandest sequences never overshadow the characters. They remain at the center, keeping us invested in their journeys.

Wicked has always offered potent commentary on prejudice, otherness, and how public opinion is shaped. In today’s world, these themes feel more urgent than ever. Elphaba’s path from misunderstood student to rebellious figurehead underscores the importance of challenging unjust authority. Erivo infuses her with courage and moral clarity, making Elphaba an emblem of resistance. By depicting her evolution so vividly, the film resonates as a timely reminder that social change often starts with one voice refusing silence.

Glinda’s journey is no less significant. She grapples with privilege, appearances, and the cost of comfort. Grande shows that Glinda’s confident waves and smiles do not always reflect inner certainty.

Instead, we watch her gradually understand that being “good” is not always the same as doing good. This arc mirrors many real struggles to look beyond surface impressions and easy gains. Glinda learns that standing by while others suffer makes her complicit, a realization that weighs heavily.

Splitting the film into two parts sparked debate before its release. Some feared it would stretch the story unnecessarily. Yet in practice, it feels justified. By ending the first installment at the climactic Defying Gravity, Chu gives the narrative space to breathe. This structure makes character growth feel earned rather than rushed. It also allows audiences to absorb themes, arcs, and emotional stakes before moving on. Anticipation for the second part becomes part of the experience, enhancing the impact of what we have just seen.

For fans, the adaptation remains faithful in tone and spirit. Stephen Schwartz’s music is handled with care, orchestrations building on familiar motifs while making subtle changes for film. Cinematography uses close-ups to bring new intimacy to songs once experienced from afar. Newcomers will find the film accessible, a gateway to Wicked’s deeper themes. The songs keep their lyrical brilliance, the storyline its moral complexity, and the visuals will captivate even those who know nothing of Oz.

The supporting cast adds richness. Michelle Yeoh steps into Madame Morrible’s role with gleeful menace, suggesting layers of manipulation beneath her composed exterior. Jonathan Bailey’s Fiyero radiates warmth, wit, and understated nobility, a welcome contrast to the intensity around him. He balances charm with depth, making the love triangle believable. Peter Dinklage, as Dr. Dillamond, brings vulnerability and wisdom to his scenes. Though effects for animal characters can feel imperfect, Dinklage’s performance stands out, reminding us that discrimination exists even in magical worlds. Marissa Bode’s Nessarose adds emotional sensitivity, underscoring the sacrifices and misunderstandings that shape every relationship.

One of the film’s achievements lies in its handling of a two-hour-and-forty-minute runtime. Such length can overwhelm, but Chu maintains a rhythm that moves smoothly from scene to scene. Grand musical numbers alternate with intimate dialogues, and every transition feels natural. The pacing allows us to settle into the characters’ minds, seeing their hopes, fears, and regrets without feeling rushed. This approach underscores that Wicked is not just about big songs and sets; it is about people wrestling with identity, seeking acceptance, fighting for justice, and learning what it means to be good.

Adapting a passionate stage musical means evolving beyond a mere recording of a theatrical performance. Cinema offers new ways to experience the familiar. The camera highlights subtle facial expressions lost in a large theater. Editing can juxtapose quiet tenderness with sudden spectacle. Lighting and angles hint at shifting alliances and emotional revelations. Chu employs these tools skillfully, deepening the narrative.

The cultural relevance of Wicked remains striking. In a world grappling with prejudice, misinformation, and difficulty distinguishing truth from propaganda, Wicked reminds us of the power of questioning what we think we know.

By humanizing characters often labeled as simply “good” or “wicked,” it acknowledges complexity. Morality dwells in gray areas where friendship, fear, courage, and forgiveness intersect. The performances make these lessons accessible and moving.

Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande deliver career-defining performances. Erivo’s vocal control, expressive eyes, and grounded physicality craft a portrait of Elphaba that stays with us long after the credits roll. Grande’s comedic instincts, effortless singing, and emotional range ensure Glinda is more than a pretty façade. Together, they form an on-screen bond that is believable, touching, and complex. Their synergy keeps the film from becoming just another big-budget musical, turning it into a testament to how strong characterization and direction can make spectacle resonate.

Supporting these leads, the technical departments shine. Production design reimagines Oz as layered, mixing whimsy and sophistication. Costumes burst with rich colors and unique silhouettes, reflecting differences in class, status, and personal growth. Cinematography captures not just the grandeur of a magical land, but also the subtle cues—a glance, a trembling hand, a door closing at a crucial moment. Every choice serves the story, and by the end, the sum of these choices leaves a deep impression.

The musical numbers serve as entertainment and narrative drivers. Each song is purposeful.

“What Is This Feeling?” sets the stage for Elphaba and Glinda’s uneasy start. “I’m Not That Girl” remains unlinked to preserve the word count precisely. Dancing Through Life adds warmth and complexity to the characters’ development. These moments, cherished by theater audiences, gain new depth on film. The camera’s perspective lets us see each character’s reaction to the lyrics, forging stronger emotional connections.

Presenting Wicked in two parts allows a natural division of narrative arcs. By the time we reach this film’s end, characters have forged identities and loyalties, tested courage, questioned assumptions, and discovered hidden strengths. The break after Defying Gravity feels earned, leaving us eager for more. This structure suggests the next installment will explore the consequences of these choices and arcs in greater detail.

As credits roll on the first film, we see Wicked’s legacy expanding. Stage-to-screen adaptations often struggle to balance fidelity and innovation, but Wicked finds a sweet spot. It preserves what made the original beloved—soaring score, heartfelt exploration of friendship, moral complexity—while embracing film’s capacity for intimacy. It stands as an example of how adapting beloved material can honor its roots and still uncover new facets.

The film reaffirms why musicals matter. They blend music, movement, design, and narrative to evoke emotions that words alone cannot. Wicked achieves this through Erivo’s tender glances, Grande’s humor, and the synergy of performance, dance, and cinematography. When they sing For Good, we feel the impact of a friendship that transcends labels. Their bond, forged in hardship and misunderstanding, becomes stronger than any preordained narrative.

In an era of big-budget franchises and overwhelming effects, Wicked stands out by placing characters and story first. The spectacle never overshadows the human element. We leave feeling we have learned something about finding a place in a complex society. Courage and compassion often arise unexpectedly, and true heroism can mean challenging the stories others tell about us.

The film prompts self-reflection. Throughout Wicked, characters we think we understand reveal deeper dimensions. The once-shallow Glinda grows more complicated, and Elphaba, once vilified, soars above persecution.

Their journeys encourage us to question our quick judgments. Even in a fantasy world, familiar narratives can hide truths in plain sight.

Jon M. Chu orchestrates this ambitious production with vision and sensitivity. He respects the stage show’s spirit while embracing cinema’s possibilities. By rooting the adaptation in emotional authenticity, he ensures longtime fans are not betrayed and newcomers are not lost. Instead, everyone finds a welcoming entry point.

As the first film concludes, we stand at a threshold. The story remains incomplete, but what we have seen inspires trust. We know these characters now, understand their conflicts, and carry the music in our minds. This adaptation shows Wicked can thrive onscreen, suggesting that the next chapter will deepen our understanding even more.

Wicked’s stage-to-screen journey shows what can happen when thoughtful adaptation meets skillful execution. It delivers what fans crave—soaring music, charismatic performances, lavish visuals—while opening new avenues of interpretation. Crucially, it reminds us that stories endure because they speak to universal truths. Wicked’s tale resonates, and the film ensures it will continue to do so for a new generation.

In the end, Wicked does not rely on nostalgia alone. It builds on that legacy to create something richer. Its themes reach beyond the theater, speaking to universal human experiences. With the second installment ahead, we can reflect on the lasting impressions this first half leaves. Wicked proves that even when expectations loom large, it is possible to defy gravity and reach new heights.

Wicked is more than a big-screen event. It encourages us to rethink how we see others, define ourselves, and respond to injustice. It entertains, enlightens, and enchants. Long after the final note fades, its message persists: deciding who is wicked or good depends on who tells the story. By revealing these nuances, Wicked challenges us to think and feel beyond labels, keeping its magic alive so that its story, like its music, endures.