Live arts, lively discussion
Review: Wicked
Suppose the "Wicked Witch of the West" got a bad rap in the Wizard of Oz. Suppose it was all just a smear campaign against one woman of conscience launched by an impotent potentate (the Wizard) in a regime marked by persecution. That's the premise of Wicked the musical, storming Providence for its second sellout season at PPAC. Winnie Holzman's book for the musical (based on the eponymous novel by Gregory Maguire) offers promising sophistication for the musical genre as it flips the Oz tale and reinterprets everything from flying monkeys to tin man.
Glinda (Chandra Lee Schwartz) is a popular, "blonde" stereotype: "just smile and wave…" she is told by Schoolmistress Madame Morrible (Randy Danson), "and shut up." The school-aged Wicked Witch Elphaba (Donna Vivino) is bookish and bespectacled, and possesses special gifts. The stereotype device, coupled with our knowledge of Oz, garnishes this buddy story with humor -- for example, when Glinda gives roommate Elphaba lessons in popularity.
In terms of music, sophistication often comes at the price of a catchy tune and a chorus you can sink your teeth into. Stephen Schwartz' music is more soundtrack than song, arguably operatic, but not likely to come to mind as you're singing in the shower. Perhaps there's a notion on Broadway that less accessibility leads to more durability. Fortunately, short lines of great beauty pop out at the all the right moments, like the title melody of "Defying Gravity," Act 1's closer. This number is dramatic and goosefleshy as Elphaba levitates over the stage, belting out defiance from the crux of a chi-rho pattern of light beams, midnight blue and aqua; symbolism anyone?
As spectacle, this show's glories cannot be overstated. The Wizard's giant golden head clanks and shudders; its eyes glow red or blue. Its amplified voice is a conglomeration of sound, both digital and live – including tremblishifying percussion (as Madam Morrible might say). Bat-winged monkeys fly, witches smolder, the Emerald glows, the dragon thrashes over the orchestra pit, and rain falls, beautifully down on the characters (Elaine J. McCarthy, projections). Sadly for local productions, it takes such heavy financial artillery to offer this sort of spectacle.
Because Wicked is so thickly plotted (by musical standards) and intriguing, ensemble scenes don't have to work as hard as they might in other musicals. In fact, these ensemble scenes seem designed mostly to ensure there's some nicely patterned commotion behind the central interactions. Potentially great dancers in less-than-ambitious choreography run through a kind of short-hand of dance idioms. In other words, the dance numbers probably wouldn't stand up on their own. Dances may even appear a little detached (as in written for another musical) in costumes that seem to be making some kind of independent statement -- men in skirts and black-and-white striped Alice-in-Wonderland tailoring.
Rather than good versus evil, Wicked portrays a war between two modes of living, the one a path of aspiration, strife, jealousy, and cultural incompatibility; the other, a "for the good of all" path each person follows according to her gifts. As Glinda and Elphaba lock horns, they forge a relationship in which each character nudges the other towards the more altruistic path. And Schwartz comes through, here, in soaring duets and warm harmonies. These duets, and the sentiment they carry, are probably at the heart of the musical's success
Elphaba's parting words to Glinda are, don't let Oz know the truth about the "goodness" of the Wicked Witch. So though the narrative ends happily, thematically, we're left with a more regretful vision, that the need for scapegoats and enemies will remain alive and well in the human psyche for some time to come.
Glinda (Chandra Lee Schwartz) is a popular, "blonde" stereotype: "just smile and wave…" she is told by Schoolmistress Madame Morrible (Randy Danson), "and shut up." The school-aged Wicked Witch Elphaba (Donna Vivino) is bookish and bespectacled, and possesses special gifts. The stereotype device, coupled with our knowledge of Oz, garnishes this buddy story with humor -- for example, when Glinda gives roommate Elphaba lessons in popularity.
Schwartz and Vivino (posing very Margaret Hamilton). Photo: Joan Marcus
In terms of music, sophistication often comes at the price of a catchy tune and a chorus you can sink your teeth into. Stephen Schwartz' music is more soundtrack than song, arguably operatic, but not likely to come to mind as you're singing in the shower. Perhaps there's a notion on Broadway that less accessibility leads to more durability. Fortunately, short lines of great beauty pop out at the all the right moments, like the title melody of "Defying Gravity," Act 1's closer. This number is dramatic and goosefleshy as Elphaba levitates over the stage, belting out defiance from the crux of a chi-rho pattern of light beams, midnight blue and aqua; symbolism anyone?
As spectacle, this show's glories cannot be overstated. The Wizard's giant golden head clanks and shudders; its eyes glow red or blue. Its amplified voice is a conglomeration of sound, both digital and live – including tremblishifying percussion (as Madam Morrible might say). Bat-winged monkeys fly, witches smolder, the Emerald glows, the dragon thrashes over the orchestra pit, and rain falls, beautifully down on the characters (Elaine J. McCarthy, projections). Sadly for local productions, it takes such heavy financial artillery to offer this sort of spectacle.
Because Wicked is so thickly plotted (by musical standards) and intriguing, ensemble scenes don't have to work as hard as they might in other musicals. In fact, these ensemble scenes seem designed mostly to ensure there's some nicely patterned commotion behind the central interactions. Potentially great dancers in less-than-ambitious choreography run through a kind of short-hand of dance idioms. In other words, the dance numbers probably wouldn't stand up on their own. Dances may even appear a little detached (as in written for another musical) in costumes that seem to be making some kind of independent statement -- men in skirts and black-and-white striped Alice-in-Wonderland tailoring.
Rather than good versus evil, Wicked portrays a war between two modes of living, the one a path of aspiration, strife, jealousy, and cultural incompatibility; the other, a "for the good of all" path each person follows according to her gifts. As Glinda and Elphaba lock horns, they forge a relationship in which each character nudges the other towards the more altruistic path. And Schwartz comes through, here, in soaring duets and warm harmonies. These duets, and the sentiment they carry, are probably at the heart of the musical's success
Elphaba's parting words to Glinda are, don't let Oz know the truth about the "goodness" of the Wicked Witch. So though the narrative ends happily, thematically, we're left with a more regretful vision, that the need for scapegoats and enemies will remain alive and well in the human psyche for some time to come.
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