The True Villain of Wicked

Yes, I have seen Wicked. I will probably see it again. I loved it. I have the double-duty experiences of being *both* a musical theater kid since high school and being raised in Kansas. This is my moment.

Since Wicked Pt. 1’s release, though, I have seen endless takes on the relationship between Elphaba and G(a)linda, the political agenda of the movie, and who the *real* villain of the Ozian story is. Some were good, sharing plenty of solid arguments and back story, some were clearly trash, and most were somewhere in between. But all of them have severely missed the mark

Universal Pictures Canada

.

Now, before I proceed, there will be both pt. one and pt. two spoilers, so if you’re not a theater kid who’s seen the musical multiple times, just be prepared.

Like most pieces of art, I believe that the way you interpret Wicked says much more about you and your current state than it does about the art in question. In so many ways, that is the beauty, value, and importance of art, it is a mirror, but only if you know how to use it. I’ve tried to see myself in my interpretation of Wicked, and see myself in my reactions to others’ interpretations as well. I can see that I strongly identify with Elphaba, and therefore would be hesitant to label her the villain, but the takes branding Glinda as the sole treacherous, backstabbing, self-serving villain really rub me the wrong way, too.

Of course there’s the Wizard, who clearly has blood on his hands, and Madame Morrible who’s not much better. But, while these characters acted in bad faith many times throughout the story, the term villain still feels like too much for either of them, especially once you learn more about them in part two.

So, who is it? Who’s the villain?

I believe the beauty of Wicked, and especially this screen adaptation, is that it doesn’t answer that question. Each character is nuanced, complicated, and deeply, deeply human, even if they are witches and wizards. As you will hear in part two, if you haven’t already had the Original Broadway Cast Recording of Wicked seared into your psyche, even after the events at the end of Part One, Elphaba and Glinda have deep love, care, and respect for each other, despite choosing wildly different paths in life. If Elphaba doesn’t see Glinda as the villain, or vice-versa, we shouldn’t either.

As I’ve sat with all of the hot takes, and quietly refrained from chiming in on threads, it’s become more and more clear to me. There is no villain in Wicked.

Read it again: There is no villain in Wicked.

The entire idea of Wicked, going back to the books, was to literally subvert our idea of who or what a villain really is. The character we despise in the original books and 1939 movie, is now seen as our heroine, we see ourselves in her story. But as we learn more about each character, we find the same is true for all of them. Essentially, the more we know someone, the more we can relate to them. To see someone as a villain is to admit you don’t know them well enough to understand.

I think it’s important to reflect on our drive and desire to label someone the villain. Yes, there is much pain and harm throughout Oz, much like in our world now, too (while I don’t think there’s a villain in this story, I do very much believe that this story is timely and topical in ways I’ll get into deeper later). Our knee-jerk reaction to this kind of pain and suffering is to try and place blame, in hopes that identifying and then punishing the perpetrator will ease our burden. But this is rarely the reality for those who’ve experienced harm, and more times than not, simply perpetuates more harm and suffering. What’ the saying? An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind? Exactly.

So, what are we to do if we aren’t meant to brandish the label of villain, and see ourselves as against those who cause us harm?

I’m certainly not saying we should just become doormats to other people because they “didn’t mean it,” far from it. I am suggesting, though, that we look deeper into ourselves and our stories to find something more meaningful and useful. In Wicked, we can see that for every act of supposed villainy, there is a real person, doing the best they can to deal with their own personal pain. Elphaba’s father and mother clearly had a poor relationship, causing her mother to have an affair, and her father to be cold and cruel to Elphaba upon seeing evidence of infidelity in his “daughter’s” skin.

Nessarose had her own problems to deal with, being disabled since birth and losing her mother before even getting to know her. Her father doted on her, so she aligned herself with him in his distaste for Elphaba. When a boy shows even the slightest interest in her, she jumps at the chance to be with him, but trapping him in the process.

Glinda comes from money and privilege, but lacks any real, meaningful relationships until bonding with Elphaba. Her fear of losing the relationships she values pushes her to change her name, and do whatever she can to keep up with Elphie. She would have hopped on that broomstick if she hadn’t been captured by the palace guards, and once she realized she couldn’t defy gravity, she did the only thing she could do to keep herself and her best friend safe.

In the first act of the musical, it’s easy to assume that Elphaba is the only innocent actor in the drama, but the reality comes to the surface in act two that Elphie’s impulsiveness, defensiveness, and deep feelings of pain drive her to harm (albeit unintentionally) all the people she was trying to help.

Even the Wizard’s actions become more relatable as you understand his fear after being essentially shipwrecked in a foreign land, and being thrust into an unearned and precarious position of power by a group of people who could have just as easily burned him in effigy as they did Elphie

We can look at the lessons of Wicked in two ways. First, is that it’s the system that’s the villain, and it is all the individuals who are the victims in their own ways. I feel this on a deep level. It was the system that demanded the Wizard be put in charge, and the system that demanded a “real good enemy.” It was the system that eroded relationships, and hurried people through their grief into retaliation and retribution. It’s the system that demands sacrifice from everyone in it, not just those who try to change it.

All these things are true of Wicked and of our world, too. But what are we to do about it? This is the second lessons Wicked offers us: we all have the capacity to be both villain, victim, and hero. We all have experienced harm, have perpetrated harm, and have the power to heal it. But in order for us to access the latter, we must act in ways that are counter to the system. This is exactly what Elphaba doesn’t do in the movie or musical. By “flying off the handle” as Glinda puts it, she’s playing against the system in a way that reinforces it, she’s now only the other side of the same coin. In the Wizard’s words, she’s now just the newest “real good enemy.”

And how often do we do the same? How often are we motivated by our anger or pain to act in ways that end up harming those we wanted to help?

If, though, we can act in ways that are counter to the system then we have a real chance of making a true and lasting difference, and likely causing much less harm in the process. Slowing down, building relationships, being curious and being authentically ourselves are all deeply counter to a system that wants us to move fast, all on our own, constantly be jumping to conclusions and judgements, and never showing who we truly are. And we catch glimpses of that throughout Wicked, and those are the moments that move us deeply. The Ozdust Ballroom scene where Glinda and Elphaba truly see each other for the first time is profoundly powerful for this very reason.

This is why I can’t call anyone in Wicked a villain, and why I’m working to apply the same approach to the rest of my actual life. This is why I’m focused on living in a way that goes against the grain of a system that profits off pain and oppression. This is how I plan on defying gravity, and I hope that you join me.