Wicked, For Good? How we became Oz-ians, and why we shouldn’t be

By Geneva O’Hara

At the end of Wicked: For Good (2025), the second act of the film adaptation of the Broadway musical Wicked, Glinda the Good finally gets her flowers. After being left at the altar and believing to have watched her best (and only) friend die, she gets to solve the fictional genocide of animals in Oz—not a bad consolation. Ariana Grande’s Glinda spends both acts of the film masquerading as kind and selfless while she helped the Wizard of Oz force all animals out of the kingdom, blaming them—and their champion Elphaba Thropp (Cynthia Erivo), Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda’s own best friend—for Oz’s struggles. When the pair finally reconcile their differences before Elphaba’s escape from Oz, they apologise to each other, singing that “there’s blame to share,” in the seminal number “For Good.” But is the blame truly shared equally? Glinda the Good lived in luxury while contributing to the suffering of an entire species, while Elphaba lived in exile fighting for their vindication. Perhaps the blame is shared equally amongst their friendship; however, the film almost seems to communicate that the blame may even be shared amongst their contributions to society. When Glinda is joyous in the film’s finale for bringing animals back into Oz at the supposed death of the ‘Wicked Witch,’ we know, as viewers, that she suffers from a guilty conscience. She does, however, seem to get everything she set out for, and it’s up to each viewer to distinguish which is more valuable. In a world where media like Fight Club (1999) and American Psycho (2000) are often misconstrued as inspirational, how clear do our silver screen scene-stealers like Glinda need to be for the audience to get the picture? 

In a similar fashion to Midsommar (2019), the horror film which attempts to brainwash the viewer as it does its protagonist, the Wicked franchise seems to indoctrinate the viewer into the glamour of the Emerald City. This is a phenomenon that separates the beloved stage musical from the blockbuster films: with the star-studded cast featuring Grande in a pink, glimmering wardrobe who walk the red carpet as their characters off-screen, Oz does not feel fictional. Paired with marketing you can’t get away from (who really purchased the Wicked Swiffer mop?) that dominated the media cycle for two years of press, the general public became subjects of the Wizard. While Grande and Erivo dazzled in interviews as inseparable best friends (with Grande even skipping interviews that Erivo was too ill to attend), viewers were welcomed into Glinda and Elphaba’s unshakable bond, undertaken by the all-encompassing marketing campaign that reached every television screen, social media feed, and tube station. 

Attendees of all ages donned pink costumes and tiaras for showings of both films, wishing to embody Glinda’s hypnotising appeal. The character’s stunning costuming, hair, makeup, and natural charisma are certainly desirable traits—who wouldn’t want to mirror them? When one steps into the world of Oz, which would they rather be? An outcast who does the right thing, but is shunned and reviled by all their peers and never seems to accomplish much? Or a beautiful ruler with an abundance of friends and chances, and who makes everything right in the end? Though each viewer knows Elphaba is the true hero, what we see is this: Elphaba can’t make real change herself, and lives most of her screen time alone. Her friends and family can’t help but betray her. Though she finds serenity by the end of the film, the majority of her story is of mistrust and regret. Glinda, however, is constantly rewarded for doing the wrong thing—and though the audience knows she feels remorse in her heart, it is she who is essential to ending the injustice in Oz. Elphaba fled the land after failing to sway the hearts of the Ozians with her revolutionary tactics, always being thwarted by the government. Her attempts to show people the truth about the ongoing corruption and harm being done to civilians were no match for her powerful opponents, even though she held great power herself. On the other hand, Glinda managed to take down the system from the inside, her accidental cleverness and benevolent reputation proving enough to allow her momentary passion to succeed at just the right time as she discovers that the Wizard is Elphaba’s father. But is this what revolutions are made of? Those who work within corrupt systems, aiding those they fear, somehow stumbling upon doing the right thing? Or is it more commonly the Elphabas of the world, who reject the comfort that deceit brings the privileged?

Wicked: For Good illustrates that Glinda and Elphaba needed each other to accomplish their goals. In terms of the characters themselves, this message is true. Each leading lady helped the other grow into more evolved versions of the selves they appeared as in the first act. However, the musical also seems to imply that Glinda’s complacency was necessary for Elphaba’s aim to dismantle the Wizard’s empire, which is a dangerous message. Wicked is not merely a story of friendship, but also one of violence, power struggles and political warfare. While overcome with the dazzling stardom that is Jon M. Chu’s Wicked franchise, the viewer must remember that when one steps outside of Oz, it is not compliance that makes change. The risk of that amnesia is the danger of cultural takeovers such as Wicked, which teach the subconscious that one may live comfortably in their rebellion. The truth is that, while admiring the qualities of Glinda the Good that make her deserving of her title is not something we must avoid, she is not the story’s triumph. Though it appears that Elphaba needed an ally on the inside, her ally was deceitful, as any would be when their life is at stake. Does a revolutionary truly need to martyr themselves to become effective? Perhaps that is the riskiest message of all. Wicked almost seems to whisper that an advocate against evil must die for her ideals to be realised—an interesting theme to broadcast at such a tumultuous political period worldwide. 

The films Wicked (2024) and Wicked: For Good (2025) were found entertaining, exciting, and a happy event by many who attended cinemas in each November they screened. They are not necessarily films to be disregarded for their implications, but rather a reminder that what we are shown on such a scale is always intentional, and it teaches us things we may prefer to think twice about. Such as comedies and satire tend to say the opposite of what they mean, art does not tend to be explicit in its efforts. The Wicked films, being adaptations of the 2003 Broadway musical, could not have stayed true to the source material by changing the story’s events, but the nature of its promotion meant it must take on a bigger role than the musical initially invented. Instead, it is the viewers’ responsibility to support a larger message than the narrative propels on its own, recognising in ourselves the parts of both roles—Glinda and Elphaba—which are better to play out in real life.