Graduate 61: Embracing Gravity, Part 2 of 2

Embracing Gravity: A Critical Engagement with the Musical, Wicked. Part Two.

I'm a fool. That's the conclusion that I've finally come to regarding my opinions about Wicked. Well, sort of. So think about this: have you ever had the experience of reading a complicated philosophy text in which the author describes a number of different views of a given issue, and sometimes it's difficult to keep track of which view the author is actually defending? So you're reading about one view and you think to yourself, I completely disagree with this view (and, by extension, the author), only to realize later that the author also disagrees with it?

This is exactly what has happened to me regarding Wicked. In the first half of the musical, he presented a particular view of the world. This troubled me a great deal because I disagreed, fundamentally, with the view that he presented. And it has taken me all this time to realize that the whole point of the second half is to point out the unviability of the view presented in the first half. So while I was troubled by the author's presenting that view in the first half, it turns out that he did so just so he could reject that very view in the second half (and so end up being in agreement with me).

Alright, now, even that characterization does not completely accurately capture my relationship to the worldview presented in this musical. So without further ado, I shall begin to unpack the major themes of the musical. WARNING: THERE ARE PLOT-SPOILERS IN THE MATERIAL TO FOLLOW. If you have not already seen the show and do not want to know what happens before seeing it onstage, in all its brilliant glory, then do not read on. Hereafter I may freely treat, as an operating assumption, that the reader has seen Wicked.

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Wicked is billed as "The Untold Story of the Witches of Oz" and tells of the events leading up to and surrounding the original film, The Wizard of Oz, from a slightly "different" perspective.

Elphaba (the Wicked Witch of the West) is not altogether wicked as so many believe. Instead, she began like any other girl, except that she had green skin and suffered from ridicule and disparagement related thereto. Through a (fateful) coincidence, she becomes closely attached to and friends with Glinda (the Good Witch of the North) whom she meets at Shiz University. Glinda is the most popular girl in school, coming from a family of wealth and reputation; she positively revels in the attention and esteem that she receives from her peers.

But simple University drama turns serious as Elphaba becomes aware of a growing and disturbing trend in the land of Oz. She learns from one of her tutors, Dr. Dillamond (a goat) that animals are being silenced throughout the land of Oz. Says, Dr. Dillamond:

"I've heard of an Ox,
A professor from Quox,
No longer permitted to teach--
Who has lost all powers of speech.
And an Owl in Munchkin Rock,
A vicar with a thriving flock,
Forbidden to preach.
Now he can only screech!"

"Something bad is happening in Oz." Dr. Dillamond, himself, becomes a victim of prejudice and hate, is dismissed from the University by Ozian officials, and eventually does lose all powers of speech. Other animals are caged as infants (a procedure that prevents them from ever developing speech abilities at all). They are systematically silenced, denied their basic rights, treated as second-class citizens (or worse), and made the "scapegoat" of all the problems that face the land of Oz.

And here is my first question: Who are the animals? That is, if there is a message with application to our contemporary situation embedded within this story, then it becomes very important to identify what group of people are represented by the animals. But doing so is more complicated than might at first seem to be the case, as I realized and described in part one. Still, there is a recognizable juxtaposition between an "oppressed minority" and "oppressive majority" that comes across very clearly. Moreover, as the plot unfolds, it becomes evident that the maltreatment of the animals is absolutely unwarranted and irrational. There is no good or valid reason to treat them as enemies. The wizard even confesses to Elfeba that he turned the people of Oz against the animals only to unify them in a common cause and so end the disorder that had been overwhelming the kingdom.

These factors combine to make even more extreme the difference between Elphaba and the other characters--her peers, the people of Oz, and even Glinda. Elphaba is thoughtful, informed, and thinks critically and carefully. The characteristic that so many of the Ozians share is a shallow thoughtlessness. The students don't expend the effort or energy to actually think carefully about the lessons they are taught. The country-folk swallow, uncritically, whatever they are told by the authorities. And Glinda is driven solely by the pursuit of popularity; she will do nothing that puts her at odds with the opinion of the masses. The general intellectual climate is expressed in a song that introduces Fiyero:

"Dancing through life,
Skimming the surface,
Gliding where turf is smooth.
Life's more painless
For the brainless.
Why think too hard
When it's so soothing,
Dancing through life?
No need to tough it
When you can sluff it off as I do."

When Elphaba chooses to defy convention and come to the defense of the persecuted animals, she is immediately vilified, deemed deviant, and denounced as "wicked." Elphaba's turn happens at the climax of the first half, to the tune of "Defying Gravity" in which she says:

"Something has changed within me;
Something is not the same.
I'm through with playing by the rules
Of someone else's game.
Too late for second-guessing,
Too late to go back to sleep.
It's time to trust my instincts;
Close my eyes, and leap!

It's time to try defying gravity
I think I'll try defying gravity
And you can't pull me down!

I'm through accepting limits,"

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So there were two key aspects of the first half that really disturbed me. One has to do with the oppressed minority/oppressive majority juxtaposition. Such a juxtaposition is not, in and of itself problematic, but I am concerned that it may be uncritically accepted and so reinforce problematic patterns of thought in audience-members minds. (See part one) The other has to do with Elphaba's rejection of of "limits." Now, one of my friends did point out to me that this need not be interpreted as a rejection of all limits, but given the contemporary American cultural climate, the very possibility of such an interpretation still disturbs me.

We live in a culture where, increasingly, anything that interferes with the absolute and unmitigated exercise of personal autonomy (and, I might add, the selfish pursuit of personal gratification) is deemed oppressive. To say that a person cannot or ought not to do something is to impose, inappropriately, one's beliefs on another individual. The right to define, for oneself, what it means to be a human being and live the good life, is more and more taken for granted. Thus, Elphaba's decision to defy the majority, to think for herself, to follow her own rule and way, to stop playing by the rules "of someone else's game," resonates strongly with this audience. I have one friend who practically made "Defying Gravity" her personal theme-song.

But is this a viable way to live life? Are all limits oppressive? (Again, I realize that one need not necessarily interpret Elphaba as rejecting all limits, but I do think the justification for drawing out this "arch-theme" is present in the musical.)

[How does one distinguish between healthy/necessary limits and harmful/oppressive limits? Elphaba is an excellent model of the wise individual in this regard--she reads, pays attention in school, thinks critically, studies history. The irony is that the audience is led to agree with Elphaba's view, but not in the same way. The audience does not study, read Ozian history, or think critically about the issues that surround the oppression of the animals. They just accept the facts as they are presented in the musical. In this sense, they are actually more like the Ozians than Elphaba. This is part of the nature of dramatic narrative (see part one), but it is also something worth thinking carefully about; how many audience members left the musical with a renewed commitment to study history and current events? Was anyone inspired to buy a history book or read the newspaper in order to be informed about all the complicated issues that face our society?]

If I were to carry on with the central analogy, I might point out that gravity is actually a good thing. In fact, flight doesn't make sense in a world without gravity. In fact, gravity makes flight possible (think airplanes and variable air-pressure). So if the audience simply accepts the rejection of limits and does not think carefully about why they are being rejected (and if the musical does not present the material necessary for them to critically make that evaluation/determination), then there may be serious cause for worry about the worldview being presented in Wicked.

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The uncritical way in which the audience might accept and embrace the theme of defying gravity (like my friend who practically made it her personal theme-song) is the main reason for my deep concern about that theme. However, I am a "fool," as I said at the beginning of this entry, because it has taken me probably two-to-three weeks of musing to realize that the musical, itself, actually also rejects this theme. The second half is all about how Elphaba tries to live life rejecting gravity only to discover that she can't.

Elphaba goes on her crusade to free the animals, but her unconventional methods are vilified and she is, in the eyes of all her fellow country-men, wicked and evil. She tries to do good and play by her own rules and the results are disastrous and catastrophic. Finally she reaches the end of herself and is forced to acknowledge that "I'm limited." But she still cannot return to the way things were. She cannot close her eyes to the manifest evils that she has recognized. Her only remaining option is death.

And I do not say that crassly. Her journey actually follows a recognizable arch-pattern. She begins in a world that embraces basic essentialism: things are what they are--good, bad, wicked. But she discovers that that is all a lie. The Wizard even tells her that morality is only a convention.

"Elphaba, where I'm from, we believe all sorts of things that aren't true. We call it... history.

A man's called a traitor--or liberator.
A man's a thief--or philanthropist.
Is one a crusader--or a ruthless invader?
It's all in which label
Is able to persist.
There are precious few at ease
With moral ambiguities,
So we act as though they don't exist."

So she embraces existentialism. She chooses to define her own reality and operate on no one else's terms. But without a solid frame of reference--without "limits"--she finds that human existence becomes incoherent and life becomes unlivable. [WARNING: BIGGEST PLOT SPOILER TO FOLLOW.] And so Elphaba makes the final shift to nihilism and death. I have heard that, in Winnie Holzman's novel, Elphaba remains dead at the end of the story. The fact that, in the musical, she stays alive by a clever ruse, actually disrupts the natural flow of the story (though it makes the audience very happy).

So even though the first half treats oppression naively and the second half embraces moral relativism (both of which are problematic), the overall point of the musical is just that neither of these is really viable as a way of living life--and I agree with that conclusion!

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What a strange journey I've had. I began being shocked and disturbed by the themes of this musical. Now I see those very themes as blending together to form just the kind of critique that I could embrace.

But I still worry. Wicked is billed as "The Untold Story of the Witches of Oz." The basic premise of the story undermines the accepted view that the Witch of the West is wicked and, in doing so, generates an ambiguity that didn't exist before. And since the essentialist-existentialist-nihilist pattern is disrupted by Elphaba's not dying, the audience is left with a second fundamentally-problematic ambiguity.

[I will deal with this second ambiguity in a separate blog about the nature of stories and myth. In that blog I may or may not directly treat the connection to Wicked, so this does end the actual Wicked series.]

But whenever I worry about people simply accepting this new, previously-unknown version of the story, I am reminded of Glinda's comment in one of her few astute and sensitive moments (paraphrasing): "Just because it's a secret, doesn't mean it's true."

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So that wraps up my reflection on the musical, Wicked. Those who have actually read to the very end get to hear me acknowledge that I was too hasty in my initial assessment of the musical. That is unfortunate and embarrassing to say. Coupled with Graduate 59, it seems to indicate a disturbing trend. But I will continue to think and write and make corrections where necessary/appropriate.

I hope that I have not spoiled (in the sense of undercutting the enjoyable memory of) the musical for anyone. I hope that those who see it (again--since many people are seeing it multiple times) will take seriously its thematic content.

Thank you to those who followed this interesting journey.

Blessings all,

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God is in this place,
And that reality, seen and understood by the grace of God in Christ Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit, makes all the difference in the world.