Why 'Wicked' Shouldn't Have Been Divided Into 2 Parts

Jon M. Chu's film adaptation is a marvel. But the way it is being released isn't ideal for audiences.

My earliest memory of “Wicked” is of the now-ubiquitous, Elphaba-green sign outside of the Gershwin Theater. I had just turned 13 and was with my mom on a special trip for my birthday, and we were waiting in line for the “Wicked” ticket lottery. The show was just under a year old, and there was a massive crowd of girls and women all hoping for their names to be called. Like most of them, we walked away from the emerald-green glow of the marquee disappointed but not devastated — because we didn’t even truly know what we were missing.

It’s hard to remember a time like that, when a show could premiere on Broadway without clips instantly leaking onto social media or people posting their reactions to trailers or clips on TikTok. Then, the only guaranteed way to listen to the soundtrack was to buy a physical CD, which was hard to find. Everything was less accessible. It’s easy to forget how much longer we waited for the things that we wanted to see — and that once we did see them, we could still be surprised by what happened.

This is what excites me the most about the “Wicked” movie. If you subtract the inescapable marketing campaign, the lengthy, emotional global press tour and the annoying debates on social media about singing in the theater, at its core, I think Jon M. Chu’s “Wicked: Part 1” democratized a story that’s only been accessible to those with the physical proximity and financial ability to attend a stage production. While the marketing and buzz have ensured that few (if any) people will be able to enter the movie without some idea of what to expect, they’ll still have the chance to go and experience it themselves.

It wasn’t until almost three years after that trip to New York that my mom and I finally saw “Wicked.” We were visiting Chicago, and she got us tickets for a production there. I was on the cusp of turning 16, and it’s hard to describe the immediate, visceral love that I felt for the show and the way it flips the story of the classic 1939 film “The Wizard of Oz” on its head.

From the moment the Wicked Witch of the West is given a name — Elphaba — the musical humanizes her. Everything, from her green skin to the lens through which she sees the world, makes her different. Elphaba feels like she has nothing in common with Glinda, a popular girl and the future Good Witch; she’s “not that girl,” as she sings. Yet she craves friendship and belonging and love, and this between how Elphaba feels and what she wants made both my mom and me feel seen.