This one is better than last year’s first half … and not merely because it’s 30 minutes shorter.
As in the stage play, this second act cleverly interlaces its action with key events from the 1939 film: offering a Rashomon-style version of what we didn’t see back then, taking place behind the scenes after Dorothy, Toto and her house were dumped by the tornado.
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| Enraged by the "convenient" arrival of a massive tornado that has dumped a Kansas house into the middle of Munchkinland, Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) vows to discover who's actually responsible for this calamity. |
Events pick up where they left off, as the newly empowered Elphaba banishes herself from Emerald City. The Wizard (Jeff Goldblum) and his malevolent abettor, Madame Morrible (Michelle Yeoh), immediately mount a disinformation campaign that paints Elphaba as a vicious figure of evil who must be caught and killed.
Superficially, she seems to deserve this label; the story begins as she disrupts completion of the glistening yellow brick roads that will lead to Oz. In truth, she does so in order to free the enslaved animals being abused in the process … but that distinction is lost on the Ozian workers.
Back in Emerald City, Madame Morrible’s scheme expands to “sell” Glinda as a begowned savior, now christened Glinda the Good. To offset her complete lack of magical powers, she’s given an ingenious “transport bubble” — along with a visually striking but wholly fake wand — that will convey an illusion of her powers.
The delicacy of Grande’s acting chops make this sequence a hoot, as Glinda repeatedly tests this device, like a little girl with a new toy.
To further enhance this elevation to public exaltation, Madame Morrible announces Glinda’s engagement to Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey), captain of the Ozian guard, which comes as a surprise to both of them: deliriously happy for her, clearly uncertain for him.
Meanwhile, back in Munchkinland, assuming the governor’s chair has transformed Nessarose (Marissa Bode). Her simmering disappointment and petulance, galvanized by this intoxicating access to power and control, have blossomed into full-blown evil. This is tearfully acknowledged in song, when she admits to having become the Wicked Witch of the East (and we all know what eventually happens to her).
Nessarose takes this out on the kind and devoted Boq (Ethan Slater), who is horrified by what she has become.
As are we. How could these five previously closely knit friends — Elphaba, Glinda, Fiyero, Nessarose and Boq — have fractured so catastrophically?
Composer Stephen Schwartz augments his original song score with a pair of new tunes: “No Place Like Home,” a familiar phrase that becomes a lament for Elphaba, morosely crooned by Erivo; and “The Girl in the Bubble,” a reflective meditation by Glinda, given equal emotional impact by Grande, as this “good witch” begins to realize that she’s being played.
That doesn’t sound like much more, but when added to this second act’s existing 10 songs, the result becomes less like a musical, and more like an operetta; it feels like most of the dialogue is sung, rather than spoken. Most of this act’s songs also are intimate and revelatory; nothing comes close to matching the visual razzle-dazzle of choreographer Christopher Scott’s “Dancing Through Life,” in the first film.
Further on the subject of “Girl in the Bubble,” this sequence is a tour-de-force by cinematographer Alice Brooks, who transforms Glinda’s revelatory moment into a jaw-dropping blend of magically shifting point-of-view shots. It’s a guaranteed Oscar-worthy feat of visual legerdemain.
Costume designer Paul Tazewell has similar fun with the two stars’ wardrobes, particularly those worn by Glinda: a couture elegance that he describes (in the press notes) as “Dior meets Marie Antoinette.” The high points include an iridescent bubble dress, a pink bubble dress, and a lavish wedding gown. Elphaba, in turn, is garbed in her signature sweeping black coat, her sinister hat granted a widened brim and heightened peak: no longer the benevolent gift from Glinda.
Nathan Crowley’s production design remains breathtaking throughout. High points include Glinda’s penthouse apartment and balcony, Emerald City’s three-tower skyline, the Wizard’s gadget-laden control room, and Nessarose’s suite at the governor’s mansion.
The tone and atmosphere here are more melancholic, as befits the darker turns necessitated by Winnie Holzman and Dana Fox’s script. (And let’s not forget, this phenomenon began with Gregory Maguire’s 1995 novel.) Among the many other grim touches, we learn what prompts the creation of the Scarecrow, Tin Man and Cowardly Lion.
Goldblum is a hoot as the sham wizard, his aw-shucks mannerisms and evasive dialogue a perfect representation of the low-rent charlatan he actually is. Goldblum also has fun with his song, “Wonderful,” expanded here into a trio with Erivo and Grande.
Bailey and Slater embody the honor and loyalty of their respective roles, and Yeoh exudes calculating malevolence as Madame Morrible: this story’s truly evil individual.
Sadly, Bode isn’t given enough time to persuasively sell Nessarose’s descent into wickedness; this occurs much too abruptly.
But the film belongs to Erivo and Grande, whether singing solo or together: in the latter case, amplifying the pathos of these two close friends being forced apart by circumstances beyond their control. Their final duet, “For Good,” is heartbreaking.
But they’re also terrific at physical comedy, particularly when — earlier on — Elphaba and Glinda wind up in an unexpected cat fight. Grande is particularly hilarious.
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