An Enchanting Reimagination: The Symbolism in Wicked (2024)

The Wicked (2024) film, directed by Jon M. Chu, is more than just a dazzling adaptation of the Broadway hit—it’s a fresh, vivid exploration of themes like identity, power, and what it really means to be labeled as "good" or "evil." Taking full advantage of the cinematic medium, the film dives deep into the story’s core messages while amplifying its most iconic moments. From Elphaba’s green skin to the Wizard’s propaganda machine, the symbolism throughout Wicked challenges us to rethink how we see the world—and ourselves.

From the moment we meet Elphaba, her green skin makes it clear she’s different. But in this film, Jon M. Chu doesn’t just use her green skin as a physical marker—it’s a powerful visual representation of how society isolates and judges those who don’t fit its mold. Cynthia Erivo captures this beautifully. You feel every ounce of Elphaba’s frustration, pain, and eventual pride in who she is. Her green skin speaks to something bigger: how society uses visible differences—whether it’s race, gender, or anything else—to create "the other." And the heartbreaking thing is, people don’t even try to see past it. Watching Elphaba evolve from someone crushed by these judgments to someone who fully owns her identity is incredibly empowering. It’s not just about her skin—it’s about how she reclaims her power in a world determined to tear her down.

The Wizard, played by Jeff Goldblum, is charming on the surface—sentimental even—but undoubtedly manipulative underneath. His regime thrives on propaganda, and in the film, you see the way he uses fear to control Oz. His massive throne room, filled with intimidating machinery, is a perfect metaphor for how his power operates—it’s all about making people feel small and powerless. What’s fascinating is how he twists the truth. Elphaba isn’t wicked, but the Wizard needs someone to blame, so he makes her the villain. It’s a stark reminder of how those in power—whether individuals or institutions—create scapegoats to retain their influence. This mirrors the way marginalized groups have been vilified throughout history to protect the status quo. Watching this unfold forces you to ask: who’s writing the narrative, and why?

Let’s talk about the part of Wicked that makes me cry every. damn. time: “Defying Gravity.” Everything changes for Elphaba in this powerful ballad. Let me just say... this scene is breathtaking. The visual effects are stunning—you see her literally rise above the labels and expectations society has thrown at her. But it’s not just about the spectacle. It’s about what the moment represents. Flying on her broom isn’t just a magical act—it’s freedom. It’s Elphaba deciding she’s done playing by everyone else’s rules, finally embracing who she is despite what it may cost her. The film captures this perfectly, with sweeping shots of her soaring through the sky. It’s not just a personal victory—it’s a challenge to the audience to think about what’s holding them down and what it would take to rise above it.

Ariana Grande’s Glinda is more layered than you might expect. At the beginning, she’s all about appearances—sparkly gowns, perfect hair, and a desperate need to be liked. But as the film goes on, you see the cracks in her polished exterior. She’s forced to confront the fact that being “good” isn’t as simple as looking the part or following the crowd. What makes Glinda’s journey so compelling is that it’s messy. She struggles to figure out what she stands for, and by the end, she’s not the same person she once was. Her transformation, marked by the simple act of dancing alongside Elphaba at the OzDust, challenges the idea that morality is black and white. It also asks a bigger question: are we willing to do what’s right, even if it means stepping beyond what you always thought you had to be?

The color green is everywhere in this film, and it’s layered with meaning. Obviously, it’s tied to Elphaba, but it also represents the Emerald City and everything it stands for—power, ambition, and, tbh, a lot of corruption. The city looks beautiful, but you can’t miss the feeling that something’s off. It’s a perfect contrast to Elphaba’s green, which represents authenticity and growth. To me, this duality is what makes the symbolism so powerful. Green is vibrant and alive, but it’s also tied to envy and greed. It forces you to think about what’s real and what’s just an illusion of success. The Emerald City’s glittering towers and colorful streets mask a society built on lies and fear. Watching the film, it’s hard not to draw parallels to real life. It makes you question the structures we live under and the narratives we accept without question. Who benefits from the way things are? And what would it take to create real change?

One of the most heartbreaking parts of the film is the story of the Animals. Dr. Dillamond, a goat professor, is stripped of his voice and status as the Wizard’s regime tightens its grip. The film doesn’t shy away from showing the cruelty they face: they're caged, silenced, and bear the brunt of the Wizard’s self-serving interests. Hmm, sound familiar?

What makes this depiction so powerful is how closely it parallels real-world issues. The dehumanization of the Animals reflects how societies have historically oppressed and silenced certain groups, whether through slavery, colonization, or modern systems of inequality. It’s a stark reminder of how dangerous it is to stay silent in the face of injustice.

Wicked isn’t just a retelling of a beloved musical—it’s a powerful exploration of identity, morality, and the systems that shape our lives. Through its rich symbolism, it challenges us to think critically about the labels we assign, the stories we believe, and the courage it takes to live authentically. It’s a story that feels deeply personal and universal all at once, and it leaves you with a question: what does it really mean to be “wicked”?