The gravity-defying notes and emerald-tinted spectacle of 'Wicked' are back on the big screen, dazzling audiences. But beneath the fantasy lies a surprisingly sharp story not just of friendship, but of power, propaganda, and political theater.
More Than a Witch Story
For over
two decades, 'Wicked' has been celebrated as a tale of two unlikely friends: the bubbly, popular Glinda and the green-skinned, misunderstood Elphaba. It’s a powerful story about being an outsider. But the newly released film adaptation sharpens a deeper, more cynical truth that has always been the story’s foundation: 'Wicked' is a brilliant, biting drama about how authoritarian regimes are built and how easily history is written by those in power. It’s not just a prequel to 'The Wizard of Oz'; it's a playbook for how to manufacture a public enemy to consolidate control.
The Propaganda Playbook
The story’s political engine is driven by two master manipulators: the Wonderful Wizard of Oz and his press secretary, Madame Morrible. The Wizard isn't a magical ruler; he’s a powerless charlatan who understands the mechanics of public relations. He recognizes that to unify a restless population grappling with economic hardship, you need to give them a common enemy. He and Morrible create a sophisticated propaganda campaign, using control of the narrative to transform Elphaba from a dissenting voice into a national threat. Morrible’s false reports about Elphaba’s “wickedness” are broadcast across Oz, proving that a lie, repeated loudly enough, can become the truth.
Scapegoating the 'Other'
The first target of the Wizard's regime isn't Elphaba, but the Animals—sentient, speaking beings who are systematically stripped of their rights and voices. Professor Dillamond, a goat, is a key figure whose marginalization serves as a chilling allegory for how societies can turn on minority groups. The Animals are scapegoated for Oz's problems, a classic tactic to distract from the failures of leadership. Elphaba’s primary “crime” isn't sorcery; it’s her refusal to stay silent about this injustice. Her defiance makes her the regime’s next target, as she is branded an enemy of the state for defending the rights of a persecuted group.
Glinda and the Comfort of Complicity
Perhaps the most uncomfortable political lesson in 'Wicked' comes from Glinda. She is not cruel, but she is complicit. Torn between her genuine affection for Elphaba and her desire for public adoration and stability, Glinda chooses the easier path. She becomes 'Glinda the Good', a beloved public figure who serves as the face of the Wizard’s regime, lending it a veneer of legitimacy. Her character arc is a tragic and relatable exploration of how good people can enable corrupt systems, prioritizing personal comfort and the illusion of order over moral courage. She represents the quiet complicity required for authoritarianism to flourish.
Who Decides What's 'Wicked'?
Ultimately, 'Wicked' pivots on one central question: who gets to define good and evil? The state labels Elphaba “wicked” precisely because she challenges its authority and exposes its lies. Her supposed wickedness is a political construction, a label created to neutralize a threat to the established order. The story brilliantly reframes the iconic villain, suggesting that what society calls “wicked” is often just a refusal to conform to a corrupt status quo. Elphaba’s journey isn’t a descent into evil, but an embrace of political resistance, even at the cost of her reputation and safety.
