Wicked for Good: A satisfying finale

Wicked for Good (2025) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG, for dramatic intensity and fantasy violence

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.23.25

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.

 

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.

That said, the primary attractions once again are the powerhouse performances from Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande, as (respectively) Elphaba and Glinda. They aren’t merely phenomenal singers; they’re also strong actors and commanding screen presences. As gorgeously mounted as this film is, it would be very little without them.

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?

Wicked, Part One: Too much of a good thing

Wicked: Part One (2024) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG, and rather generously, for scary action and dramatic intensity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

At the risk of being the Grinch at the party — and earning the wrath of the 2003 Broadway musical’s devoted Wickedites (Ozians?) — this film is much too long.

 

Shiz University students Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo, left) and Galinda (Ariana Grande)
loathe each other on first sight ... so, naturally, they're forced to room together.

I say this despite its best moments, when this film (literally) soars with exhilarating magic, most notably during choreographer Christopher Scott’s exhilarating production numbers, none better than “Dancing Through Life,” set in a multi-level school library with huge, rotating stacks of shelves. Director John M. Chu is (ahem) a wiz at ensemble pieces and splashy, opulent crowd sequences, as notably demonstrated in 2018’s Crazy Rich Asians and 2021’s In the Heights.

But this ponderous, 160-minute fantasy’s quieter, expository moments frequently sag beneath the weight of too many slow takes, a grim and insufficiently established subtext, and pauses so pregnant they could deliver.

 

Which do not, for a moment, overshadow the deeply moving, incredibly powerful and all-around superb performances by stars Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande, both spectacular in song, dance, comedy and expressive moves and dramatic chops, as (initially) rival spell-casting students Elphaba and Galinda, at the fantastical land of Oz’s Shiz University.

 

I’d love to say that the über-talented Erivo and Grande compensate for this bloated film’s shortcomings, and — in fairness — they come very close. But no; nothing can fully camouflage the sagging weight of dramatic scenes than linger far beyond their sell-by date.

 

But that’s getting ahead of things. 

 

Chu’s film is based on the Winnie Holzman/Stephen Schwartz play (book/music and lyrics), which in turn is adapted from Gregory Maguire’s cheeky revisionist 1995 novel, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. Holzman collaborated on this film’s screenplay, alongside Dana Fox, and viewed it — as she has been quoted — as being an opportunity to showcase all the scenes that were cut from the stage production.

 

(Note to all concerned: Sometimes stuff is trimmed for good reason.)

 

This film opens with a prologue that hearkens back to the end of 1939’s The Wizard of Oz, as Dorothy and her companions depart along the yellow brick road, having vanquished the Wicked Witch of the West. When Glinda arrives in Munchkinland to confirm the news, one resident asks about her prior relationship with the deceased: “Is it true you once were friends?”

 

That takes her aback, and prompts the memories that become the story proper.

 

(The two spellings of Galinda’s name is a plot point.)

 

Years back, Munchinland Governor Thropp (Andy Nyman) is horrified when their first baby girl, Elphaba, proves to be ... green. (There’s a reason for this, also a key plot point.) Second daughter Nessarose, born a few years later, looksacceptable but will require a wheelchair her entire life.

 

Widows: Revenge with style

Widows (2018) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated R, for violence, profanity, nudity and sexual content
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.16.18

This one hits the ground running — literally — and never lets up.

Director Steve McQueen’s skillfully constructed crime thriller boasts a top-flight ensemble cast and a sharp script — from McQueen and Gillian Flynn — along with slick editing (Joe Walker) and creative cinematography (Sean Bobbitt), which a camera that frequently crouches and prowls around walls and cars. The latter two elements contribute to a rising level of nail-biting tension that becomes nearly unbearable by the explosive climax.

Veronica (Viola Davis, center), grieving over the sudden, violent loss of her husband, is
comforted by political candidate Jack Mulligan (Colin Farrell), who insists that she get
in touch if she ever needs anything. She'll find cause to hold him to that promise...

Everything that a taut suspenser should be.

McQueen’s film is adapted and updated from an equally hard-boiled, six-part 1983 British miniseries written by Lynda La Plante, best known on these shores for having created DCI Jane Tennison, in the riveting Prime Suspect franchise. La Plante set the narrative in London; McQueen and Flynn transplant the action to Chicago, while adding a strong — and brilliantly integrated — political element.

(Chicagoans must wonder whether their city ever will escape its corruption-laden reputation.)

The story kicks off on a heist-in-progress gone violently awry, as a four-man crew led by Harry Rawlings (Liam Neeson) attempts to escape in a van, while police cars descend from all directions. This sequence is intercut with glimpses of earlier, calmer moments between the men and their four wives: Harry and Veronica (Viola Davis) in bed, deeply in love with each other; Linda (Michelle Rodriguez), arguing finances with the evasive Carlos (Manuel Garcia-Rulfo); Alice (Elizabeth Debicki), a Polish immigrant bride nursing another black eye inflicted by the abusive Florek (Jon Bernthal); and Amanda (Carrie Coon), happily nesting and co-parenting a newborn infant.

Back in the moment, Harry screeches the van into their warehouse hangout, two of his accomplices tending to the badly wounded third. But it’s a trap; surrounding police unleash a fusillade of gunfire. The van explodes and burns hot, leaving nothing but charred remains.

Meanwhile…

Jack Mulligan (Colin Farrell), a legacy candidate running for alderman in Chicago’s 18th Ward, pays a visit to the modest campaign headquarters of Jamal Manning (Brian Tyree Henry), the African-American opponent whose poll numbers have begun to climb. Jack’s family has run (and looted) the 18th Ward for generations, and Jack isn’t about to let that change on his watch; his viciously racist father, Tom (a savage, venom-spewing Robert Duvall), wouldn’t tolerate it.

This superficially cordial tête-à-tête between Jack and Jamal bristles with veiled threats and razor-sharp dialogue (which McQueen and Flynn continue to pen throughout the film). Jack clearly is as crooked as a spent match, dogged by accusations of having “extracted” $5 million from various phony public works projects. But it quickly transpires — after Jack departs — that the seemingly virtuous Jamal is no better.

Worse yet, Jamal’s interests are safeguarded by his homicidal younger brother Jatemme (Daniel Kaluuya, recognized from last year’s Get Out), a psychopath with a fondness for using guns and sharp knives to extract information … or eliminate “problems.”

Bad Times at the El Royale: Well titled

Bad Times at the El Royale (2018) • View trailer 
Two stars. Rated R, for strong violence, profanity, drug content and dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang

It begins with such promise.

During the first hour, I couldn’t wait to see this film a second time.

Traveling salesman Laramie Seymour Sullivan (Jon Hamm, left) and touring soul singer
Darlene Sweet (Cynthia Erivo) are just as surprised as desk manager Miles Miller
(Lewis Pullman), when their check-in procedure is interrupted by a brazen newcomer.

Shortly thereafter, my enthusiasm began to wane. Ninety minutes in, it was obvious that one viewing would be sufficient.

By the time this interminable slog had concluded, I wanted my 141 minutes back.

Yes, it’s that long. No, the length isn’t justified. Not by any means.

I suspect writer/director Drew Goddard intended Bad Times at the El Royale to be a similarly snarky and dark-dark-darkblend of this past spring’s Hotel Artemis and Quentin Tarantino’s Hateful Eight. The preview certainly suggested as much, and Goddard’s pedigree is solid; he was the guiding hand behind 2012’s ferociously clever The Cabin in the Woods, and he cut his teeth writing and directing episodes of cult TV faves such as Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Alias and Lost.

What could possible go wrong?

Well … a lack of self-discipline, for starters. An inability to recognize when “mischievous” veers into “tasteless.” And a failure to perceive that although his script has a great set-up and premise, the execution leaves much to be desired. By the bonkers third act, at which point the film has gone completely off the rails, one gets a sense that Goddard was hastily scribbling fresh pages as he went along.

Such a disappointment.

That said, there’s no denying the skill with which Goddard toys with us, during the ingeniously twisty first hour.

It’s January 1969: a time of momentous upheaval, as the last vestiges of the debonair, Rat Pack jazz era are buried beneath the rock ’n’ roll-fueled counter-culture revolution. Richard Nixon has just been inaugurated as the 37th president of the United States, and a new decade beckons.

But on the border between California and Nevada, the once-glorious El Royale still seems time-locked in the 1950s. The resort is cheekily built to straddle both states, with a fat red line dividing the two wings of rooms, and running right down the middle of the spacious lobby. The establishment offers warmth and sunshine to the west, and hope, opportunity — and gambling — to the east. Once upon a time, this Tahoe hot spot catered to the country’s most famous celebrities and politicians; now it’s just this shy of being a ghost.

(The El Royale is inspired by the actual Cal Neva Resort and Casino, which similarly straddled both states.)