There’s some kind of magic afoot. If, like me, you’re one of the very few people who hasn’t already seen the blockbuster stage musical Wicked (it’s the second-highest-grossing Broadway show of all time, so that’s an awful lot of bums on seats), you may approach this shiny, high-energy, relentlessly marketed movie adaptation with low to moderate expectations. There’s the unwieldy running time, for a start – two hours and 40 minutes – and the cynical, box-office-gouging decision to carve the story into two films (fans will have to wait almost a year to the day before they get to watch the concluding chapter).
But here’s the thing: reservations are soon extinguished and grumbles about the release strategy swiftly quashed. Wicked matches its polished razzle-dazzle with real heart. Driven by knockout performances from Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande, Jon M Chu’s impossibly slick charm assault of an adaptation zips along so enjoyably that you almost wish it were longer (your bladder may disagree). With its all too timely themes of bullying, corrupt leaders and the demonisation of difference, this is a movie that promises a froth of pink and green escapism but delivers considerably more in the way of depth and darkness.
