Wicked

There is a scene in Wicked where Glinda and Elphaba share a bonding moment. Glinda asks Elphaba to share a secret with her, which made me reflect on a secret I’ve kept. Before revealing my secret, let me explain how important Oz is to me.

From the moment I first gazed into our 1960s color television set, transfixed by my very first viewing of The Wizard of Oz during its annual showing, the film became a significant part of my life. Year after year, I counted down the days until I could embark on that wonderful journey once again.

As I grew older, the movie took on even greater importance, not just as a nostalgic reminder of my childhood, but as a means of understanding myself. I discovered the original book and its illustrator, W.W. Denslow. His artwork captivated me and inspired me to pursue my own artistic aspirations. I frequented our charming old Dundee Main Street Library, an old Victorian house filled with books and that wonderful, distinct smell. I vividly remember walking up the creaking staircase, knowing exactly where the Oz books were located. I checked them out one by one, and eventually, I received my own volumes as gifts on Christmas and birthdays. As a budding young gay man, I realized that my fascination with Judy Garland was deeper than I initially thought. I began to recognize that I was not alone in my devotion to this incredibly talented woman. I found a gateway to understanding my identity and connected with other Judy fans who became my peers in the LGBTQ+ community.

Now, for my secret: initially, Wicked never captured my interest. You could call me a Wizard of Oz snob. I stood firmly by the original movie and winced at any attempts to retell or create sequels to it. I was also loyal to L. Frank Baum's original Oz books, including The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. As a result, I was quite stubborn about accepting anything that wasn’t the “original.” Ironically, I floated around in a bubble of my own creation.

I never read the book, but I did see the national tour of Wicked in Chicago and was unimpressed.

My first experience with the International Wizard of Oz club “convention” introduced me to other Oz fans. One young lady in particular, named Tori, seemed to have an even greater love for the movie than I did. I started following her “Oz Vlog” on TikTok. Not only was she a dedicated fan of the movie and the original books—considering herself an “Oz Historian”—but she was also deeply immersed in her passion for the Broadway show. Tori had seen it multiple times and had a vast collection of Wicked memorabilia, including stage props and costume pieces from the show. I found myself feeling as though the Broadway production and Gregory Maguire’s novel were beginning to overshadow the original movie. I met younger fans who had never even seen the film. How was this happening?

I had witnessed numerous spectacular film adaptations of franchises like The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter—all of which carry an “Oz-esque” quality. The only major Oz film attempt to bring the world of Oz to life in a modern cinematic style was the disappointing Oz the Great and Powerful, which was hardly great and, indeed, quite terrible. Margaret Hamilton’s classic witch was now being reimagined as a glamour girl, thanks in part to Wicked and various movie and TV adaptations. Like the melting of the witch, I feared the Oz I knew and loved was beginning to dissolve into a gooey green mess.

I recently learned that a remake of the 1939 film was in the works, with the director planning to reinvent it for the 21st century. Oh no. There was also great anticipation for a cinematic version of Wicked. I felt overwhelmed. My stubborn devotion to the original MGM movie and the books had me cornered. My “original” Oz seemed to have run away from home. I felt like an outsider, watching from the sidelines as this young, charming girl enthusiastically discussed not just the MGM movie, but also Wicked itself. She recited details from the musical, mentioning “Schiz University” and other concepts I was unfamiliar with. Yes, I admit I was jealous.

Then, I got over myself.

In anticipation of the movie, which took several years to make, I decided to take a closer look at the Broadway show. I watched performances featuring a variety of Glindas and Elphabas over the years and found myself humming the song “Popular.”

Then, during the Super Bowl, I caught a first glimpse of the movie. To my surprise, I felt embarrassed because I was delighted. I had told many people that I considered myself an Oz purist when they asked if I liked Wicked. Now, excited by what I saw in the preview, I began to share my enthusiasm. I found myself in preparation mode for the film and decided to read Gregory Maguire's book.

I followed Tori as she attended various Oz events related to the upcoming Wicked movie. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and like when I was a kid with the MGM movie, I found myself counting down the days to the film's premiere. The big day arrived, and my husband and I drove to the nearby suburb of Niles, Illinois, to see the movie at the AMC cinema. He opted for a 4:15 showing to avoid a packed theater full of children singing along with the film. The audience was small, and we found perfect seats to enjoy the movie.

After about 37 previews, the film finally began. As the screen filled with an aerial view of Munchkinland, eerily reminiscent of the original “real” Munchkinland, the movie's title appeared in the same font as the classic film. Director John M. Chu was not leaving the MGM movie behind; instead, he was revitalizing it and merging it with this new adaptation. This was not just another version of Oz; it encompassed the original book, the film, and the Broadway musical, all wrapped up in a spectacular package. I felt like I was receiving a gift. This was the movie I had hoped for all those years. If anyone was going to bring Oz to life again, this director was the right person for the job.

There were so many delightful nods to the original film. Chu brought Oz and everything associated with it into an exciting, beautiful, and nostalgic world that felt real. He purposefully used very little CGI in creating the movie sets; Shiz University and the Emerald City felt tangible.

I was thrilled to see the Glinda I first met, descending in a perfect bubble, as the Munchkins scurried out of their little cottages, waving up to the sky and cheering as Ariana came in as Glinda. I was cheering too. Cynthia Erivo as Elphaba was wonderfully incredible. Both she and Ariana cherished the original story and ensured that the magical Oz energy I felt as a child—when the TV screen transitioned from black and white to technicolor—was still there, enhanced. I cried. I was so happy.

And now, I anticipate part two and I am fully onboard as I celebrate an Oz renaissance with everyone else who loved the books, the 1939 film and the Broadway musical.