Tough to write a movie review when fans can’t articulate tangible value.

“Did you really enjoy it the third time on the big screen?”

A small part of me craves an answer but I know how my sister will respond.

And I respect that. Films are for entertainment, and here Patricia finds the fun I can’t access.

Yet Wicked – over-produced, bursting with CGI and filmed almost entirely on soundstage – isn’t a forward-thinking cinematic piece. It’s a lesser recreation of the Broadway show, a shallow pool where viewers bask in nostalgia.

Consider the exchange among friends after a pickup volleyball match:

“You haven’t seen Wicked? You should have your gay card revoked.”

“I saw Wicked,” I interject, “Will I lose my straight card?” We laugh. “Seriously though: What did you enjoy about it?”

“Well, I saw the original Broadway musical and loved it,” the common refrain.

“With Kristen Chenowith and Idina Menzel? Me too.”

My feelings were more mixed, but I only wish to discuss the film itself. Aside from Ariana Grande and Jeff Goldblum’s performances – or the familiar songs (‘Popular’ specifically) – why was it enjoyable?

There’s no concrete answer. His best explanation is a misinterpretation of the source material:

“This is part one of a two-book series. The film only covers book one, which uses the play’s plot, so it’ll be all new stuff in Part 2.”

He’s wrong. The musical Wicked draws its inspiration from Gregory Maguire’s 1995 novel Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. There is no follow-up novel; the story from the original musical will continue in Wicked Part 2.

It seems people often fabricate background knowledge to justify their feelings. This particular friend ties his enjoyment to the homosexual community—a connection that’s hardly a valid reason to see a movie. Demographics aren’t a legitimate justification for falsified uplift.

My mom calls this, “fibbing.” If lying’s required to avoid critical discourse how substantive can the praise be?

On Thanksgiving, someone said:

“I like Wicked, and I know your sister loves Wicked. And she’s standing right over there.”

In that gal’s mind, Wicked is good simply because it would hurt a friend’s feelings to think otherwise—an admirable trait, perhaps, but hardly conducive to fruitful film discussion.

Shifting focus, consider the film’s internal logic. Ask yourself: if magic doesn’t exist in Oz, what is the purpose of the university they’re attending? The curriculum doesn’t involve sorcery or academia; The audience is privy to a single lesson; talking animal civil rights history.

Contrast this with The Grinch, where mythic tales recount hours-long makeup sessions before every shoot day. Jim Carrey is the poster child for the endless transformation process – even handling his own contact lenses.

Then there’s Cynthia Erivo’s performance as Elphaba. Despite the reverence many express, the makeup on Cynthia is poor – bordering on lazy. Fully sleeved and pant-legged in almost every scene. Do we ever see green arms? This hurts even more because I’m a big Erivo fan. Working with her on Widows cemented a deep respect, making her miscasting all the more disappointing.

Mid-shoot a co-worker asks, “Why they making her run so much?”

“Because it’s awesome! Black actresses rarely run on screen,” I reply.

Still, stunt casting her as Elphaba was the wrong choice. Her singing is unremarkable, and changing the character’s race muddles the metaphor. Elphaba becomes not just an outcast, but an outcast defined by the otherness of her skin color. Instead of a singular, green-skinned anomaly in Oz, she transforms into a marginalized individual rather than representing a marginalized race. Casting a black woman alters that dynamic entirely.

Her acting comes off as uninspired and paycheck-oriented. Later in the film, she recites an incantation – a terrible example of fantasy storytelling. She cycles through a short, nonsensical phrase – “something ibn something” – like a disingenuous, repetitive Arabic chant. According to Reddit, these words are drawn from the musical: “Ahben Tahkay Ahben Tahkay Abhen Atum Takayah,” etc. There used to be a melody adding flavor, but it’s lost here.

Here lies my core issue with the film: many adaptations use artistic license to change things when moving to the big screen. If Cynthia can’t make the incantation melody work, the overall scene requires reworking. “It is drawn directly from the source material,” isn’t adequate justification.

And there’s nothing redeemable about Elphaba. In fact, she’s standoffish, unfunny (her “these are not the reasons I’m green” bit sucks) and utterly put-upon.

Glinda is worth rooting for, and the Wizard too, but Elphaba? Who gives a pointed cap?

Ultimately, Wicked lacks inspiration. It’s neither edgy nor engaging. The film has no stakes and offers no contemporary commentary or enjoyment for those lacking in nostalgia.

My sister – and all like-minded women and gay men – can enjoy this film, justifiably or not. But an Oscar nomination for Best Picture?

Gtfooh.

See Kraven the Hunter instead.

★★★

Click IMDb or Letterboxd for my succinct thoughts.