Baum’s beloved tale was famously adapted in 1939 as ‘The Wizard of Oz’ – a film that utterly enchanted me as a child. In 2009, I experienced Wicked for the first time in the West End. It was not just the music that captivated me, but how familiar elements were woven into a new story addressing both personal and societal conflicts. No longer merely a coming-of-age tale, it explored social acceptance, diversity, identity, and self-doubt – in contrast to the pressures of conformity and superficiality.
The first act’s adaptation was already outstanding. Its visual language and camerawork create a more intimate connection to the characters, revealing depths a stage production could never provide.
And now, the long-awaited second act. The film continually delights with small, carefully crafted details. Right from the start, the Universal logo appears grainy and black-and-white before transforming into radiant Technicolor – a loving homage to the 1939 classic. Then comes the moment when a single tulip of a different colour stands out amidst a sea of uniform blooms: Wicked 2 is full of charming surprises waiting to be discovered.
Erivo and Grande shine not only in their demanding vocal performances, but also in their subtle portrayal of the deep bond between their characters. From this emerges a beautiful mixture of emotion, wit, and charm. The entire ensemble impresses with their energy, joy of performance, and musical precision. Beyond Erivo and Grande, I was particularly taken with Goldblum’s interpretation of the Wizard of Oz: one could almost forgive his trickery – notably in the scene for ‘Wonderful’, where he plays again with a feather-light globe – a subtle tribute to Chaplin’s ‘The Great Dictator’.
Director Chu had already expanded the first act with great mastery. In the second, he goes even deeper, showing with quiet sensitivity how the characters reflect each other, discover what binds them, and learn to accept and love one another. The story shifts from the need to be ‘right’ to a place of affection, understanding, sacrifice, and mutual support – despite divergent perspectives. A vision one could only wish for the world.
I would particularly like to highlight the scene ‘Thank Goodness Reprise’, in which Glinda gradually loses her self-assurance and the boundary between her true self and her reflected image begins to blur. Just touchifying.
Andreas Waldenmaier
Just as Dorothy’s magical journey once enchanted me as a child, Wicked – whether on stage or on screen – opens the door to an adult world, full of challenges and daring ventures.
And even though I experience myself as a heteronormative cis man, I still sometimes wish to float through the world in a gigantic, pink soap bubble. It is no escape: you still see everything – only perhaps with a slightly kinder gaze.
It is only a pity that some other populists will not also drift away in a hot-air balloon.
Toss. Toss.
Liebe Grüße, Andreas
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