Following up from my previous post, I’m going to start delving into the finer points of what in “Wicked” doesn’t work for me. Just to repeat: I’m only going to focus on the musical version, not the Gregory Maguire book.

My second biggest problem with the show is that the character of Elphaba has almost nothing to do with L. Frank Baum’s Wicked Witch of the West. This is a big deal, because the success of the entire show rides on the assumption that we, the audience, are familiar with “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz”, and want to see a side of this character whom we supposedly already know.

The starting point for the magic of “Wicked” is the Wicked Witch of the West we already know, whether it’s the version from the books or the more famous version from the MGM musical. Remember how she terrorised Oz, set the Scarecrow on fire, forced her captives to be slaves and threatened to kill Dorothy outright? The one who cackled all the time and was more-than-a-little insane? The Wicked Witch terrified at least three generations of children. Fittingly, the MGM musical version of the Wicked Witch is number #28 of Total Film’s 100 Greatest Villains of All Time, beating Lex Luthor and The Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

How do you go from one of the most feared fictional characters of all time to a misunderstood heroine with a tragic past whom fangirls and fanboys fall all over themselves in admiration?

When I heard that “Wicked” was going to be made into a musical, I was skeptical, but I knew it could be done. I’d heard bits and pieces about what was going to be added to the show, and the more I heard the more I was excited. The first time I heard the song The Wizard and I, I gasped and got teary-eyed, because of the sheer heartbreaking innocence of the song, especially in that line, “Someday there’ll be a celebration throughout Oz that’s all to do with me!”

And that’s where “Wicked” has the power to punch you in the gut. You know what’s going to happen to Elphaba. You know it’s all going to go bad, and the whole of Oz is going to turn on her. You are caught up in the journey of this wide-eyed hopeful character named Elphaba, and you want to see how it all falls apart and she becomes the Wicked Witch of the West.

But here’s the kicker. She never actually becomes the Wicked Witch of the West.

She doesn’t get delusions of grandeur. She doesn’t go loopy. She doesn’t becomes a woman you could believe would threaten to kill a little girl. Although she does cackle a little, she’s essentially still a good, passionate woman whose only fault is that she has a broken heart. Right until the curtain falls down on the finale, Elphaba never turns into a Witch who could give nightmares to three generations of children or be voted #28 on the Greatest Film Villains of All Time list. I had hoped to see another side of a character I knew, not a brand new character that happens to share the same nickname.

Ah, some fans say, but that’s what’s so great about it! This Elphaba is more sympathetic! You understand her, you feel her pain.

I respond, okay true, but then what was the point of promising us the story of the Wicked Witch of the West, if you’re not going to deliver? It’s not a story about the Wicked Witch anymore, it’s a story about a woman named Elphaba who was a victim of false marketing and propaganda. At no point during the show can I believe that Elphaba, propaganda or not, could be believable as the villainess who taunted the Oz folk and made them quake in their boots.

In the musical, all the supposed wickedness is faked by Madame Morrible and the Wizard in order to discredit her, leaving poor Elphaba helpless and bewildered, but still as innocent as pure white snow. Gregory Maguire’s Elphaba takes on a the-ends-justify-the-means attitude and does do some pretty questionable things, but none of that is even hinted at in the musical, and it seems to me that this was a conscious choice by the creators in order to make Elphaba a more noble, tragic heroine.

Thing is, it can be done. You can depict an angry, out-of-control character who is at the same time sympathetic, misunderstood and driven to such extreme rage by circumstance. The most obvious parallel to Elphaba’s doomed life journey is the evolution of Anakin Skywalker to Darth Vader in the Star Wars prequels – sure, it’s cheesy and heavy-handed, but you do still feel it’s the same character you’ve known from the original Star Wars trilogy, just seen from a wholly different perspective.

And that’s where I feel “Wicked” falls apart.

Read the book, or watch the MGM musical, and try to reconcile those versions of the Wicked Witch with Elphaba. They never meet; they don’t even come close.