Some movies soar on broomsticks; this one never quite gets off the ground.
Wicked: For Good arrives with sky-high expectations, a beloved Broadway pedigree, and a cinematic world forever shaped by the 1939 Wizard of Oz. And while the heart for the material is undeniably present—director Jon M. Chu’s affection radiates through nearly every frame—the execution is fraught with problems that prevent the film from casting the spell it so eagerly attempts. It’s a movie overloaded with spectacle yet starved of narrative discipline, regrettably proving that sometimes a production can have all the right ingredients and still mix the potion incorrectly. There’s no question Jon M. Chu loves this material—his enthusiasm is evident. But passion alone isn’t enough. The film desperately needed stronger producing and organizational forces to ground the project, refine its pacing, and balance its emotional register. Instead, we get a production that feels at once over-managed and under-shaped.
Now demonized as the Wicked Witch of the West, Elphaba lives in exile in the Ozian forest, while Glinda resides at the palace in Emerald City, reveling in the perks of fame and popularity. As an angry mob rises against the Wicked Witch, she’ll need to reunite with Glinda to transform herself, and all of Oz, for good.
The most glaring issue in this movie is the pacing. This story never needed to be two movies. One Broadway show, one complete screen adaptation—simple math. Instead, Wicked and Wicked: For Good, collectively, feel like a single narrative forcibly stretched and compressed simultaneously. Scenes either end abruptly or linger with self-importance, giving the whole film a stop-and-start rhythm that betrays any emotional momentum. Moments that should breathe are suffocated, while others that should be tightened sprawl endlessly. Narratively, the film leans heavily on contrivances rather than character and plot development. Plot turns feel telegraphed or unearned, creating a sense that events are happening because the script demands it—not because the characters have earned the journey. Emotional beats are pushed rather than developed; the film tugs at heartstrings it hasn’t taken the time to weave. Many sequences feel manipulative instead of meaningful, leaving the viewer aware of the strings being pulled rather than swept up in the melody.
The film maintains the emotional equivalent of flooring the accelerator from beginning to end. Everything is heightened, everything is urgent, everything is presented at maximum volume. Without quieter resets, the story becomes exhausting rather than exhilarating. The lack of modulation leaves little room for nuance, making even potentially impactful moments blur together into one extended crescendo.
And then there’s the Oz problem itself–it was bad enough in the first movie, but this one amplifies all the flaws in this picture. From the opening Universal logo and Wicked title card, both stylized to resemble their 1930s counterparts, it’s clear the film wants to position itself adjacent to the classic Wizard of Oz. (And yes, I am aware that the Broadway show is based on books and not the 1939 classic, but this is a screen adaptation that is going to by default be connected spiritually and literally to the events, imagery, and characterizations of the original movie, but I digress). Whenever Wicked intersects with that iconic imagery, the visual and narrative disconnect is jarring. Tonally, textually, and aesthetically, nothing matches. Two of the most egregious examples are the Wicked Witch of the West’s castle, a location fundamentally misaligned with its 1939 counterpart in both history and design, and Glinda’s bubble. Hello??? She is clearly a magical being and travels by a magical bubble. To rob her of those elements is to rob her original characterization. For a film so eager to evoke some level of nostalgia, its disregard for consistency with cinema’s most beloved fantasy feels baffling.
The editing is among the film’s most distracting flaws—awkwardly timed transitions, uneven scene construction, and moments that feel spliced for convenience rather than cohesion. The cinematography dazzles with color and movement but contributes little to storytelling. It’s all flash, no narrative substance: beautiful images that ultimately amount to little more than digital confetti. And we cannot talk editing without addressing teh cringe CGI–the kind of digital spectacle that feels less like movie magic and more like a rough animatic accidentally exported at full resolution. Emerald City looks less like a tangible place and more like a high-end screensaver—everything polished to a rubbery sheen, with no texture, grit, or atmospheric depth. Characters often appear detached from their surroundings, as if composited into a digital diorama rather than inhabiting a lived-in world. Instead of mixing practical sets with digital enhancements, the film leans heavily on full-CG environments and even characters, resulting in octane-fueled and intimate moments feeling artificial. It’s like looking upon a world of fantasy that feels more like a giant animated backdrop with actors placed within versus a world that feels tangible.
Not even the presence of Michelle Yeoh is enough to elevate the film’s sense of class or gravitas. Although, it’s hard to blame her, given that she’s phoning in a performance built on scraps of narrative substance. In this second installment, her character is little more than an ornament of prestige, offering neither meaningful development nor any real impact on the story. Jeff Goldblum, likewise, delivers a surprisingly muted turn, coasting on his trademark charisma without ever fully engaging. When two performers known for commanding the screen seem this disengaged, it speaks less to their abilities and more to a film that gives them virtually nothing with which to work.
Wicked: For Good reaches for greatness but ultimately fails to stick the landing. It’s a film overflowing with heart yet undercut by structural missteps, contrived plotting, mismatched continuity, and a visual approach that prizes spectacle over substance. For a story about defying gravity, it’s ironic that this adaptation never quite lifts off the ground.
Ryan is the general manager for 90.7 WKGC Public Media and host of the show ReelTalk “where you can join the cinematic conversations frame by frame each week.” Additionally, he is the author of the upcoming film studies book titled Monsters, Madness, and Mayhem: Why People Love Horror. After teaching film studies for over eight years at the University of Tampa, he transitioned from the classroom to public media. He is a member of the Critics Association of Central Florida and Indie Film Critics of America. If you like this article, check out the others and FOLLOW this blog! Follow him on Twitter: RLTerry1 and LetterBoxd: RLTerry
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