Review: WICKED at Kennedy Center Opera House

It's been 11 years since I saw Wicked for the first time. Watching the latest touring production -- technically, um, wizardly though musically a little uneven -- I was reminded what a confident and complete theatrical creation this Stephen Schwartz and Winnie Holzman blockbuster is.

Within its very first minutes, Wicked shows off its huge smoke-snorting, devil-eyed dragon's head above the stage, throws confetti at us, and presents Glinda in her aerial mechanical bubble. It's as if the producers were saying, "Hey, we don't have to build up to the big effects because we are going to absorb your attention for the next two and a half hours regardless." Then, through a well-honed book and consummate stagecraft, they do just that.

Cherish the musical that is suspenseful, eye-catching, ear-tickling, eerie, poignant, funny, savvy, sweet, sociologically insightful, or politically pointed. Wicked, if not the greatest exemplar of any of those qualities, displays, to an impressive degree, all of them. That it builds on a captivating novel riffing off a classic film that was adapted from a best-selling children's book doesn't hurt. Wicked's fiendishly clever high concept -- it is a prequel, then side-story, to The Wizard of Oz -- gives it a green stockinged leg up as it flashes its sly, twisted one liners and visual allusions. "There's no place like home," Elphaba, our misunderstood heroine, says sardonically upon seeking the help of a father who is revolted by her. And as a Winkie prince is taken prisoner and carted toward a silhouetted field, we know without comment that crows are in his future.

Childhood priming combined with adult concerns is a potent formula. As a result, in the same way you find little girls in princess dresses attending The Nutcracker, you'll find an array of mature, green-clad glam-goth would-be witches in the foyer outside Wicked. The work attracts a fandom that is, er, not casual. Wicked doesn't just sell merchandise, psychologically, it is merchandise. It doesn't just have effects, it is one giant effect, but a marvelous one.

Wednesday night's performance featured Lissa deGuzman as Elphaba and Jackie Raye in the role of Glinda. (Raye is one of three understudies for that role.) Both are strong singers, of course, but, of equal importance, excellent actresses. DeGuzman evolves palpably: defiantly deviant caretaker of her wheelchair-bound sister Nessarose at Shiz University; counterculture alt-chic animal-activist sorceress with access to people in high emerald places; shadowy subversive; vindictive outcast; and then, well, who's to say? Glinda, in counterpoint, is big blonde on campus; heartstruck into relative humility by love for Fiyero; eyes-opened childish bestie to her ever-more-hiply-intriguing green nemesis; irrelevant bystander to Oz realpolitik; lonely glamor girl thrust into the limelight by way of puppet masters' sinister political expediency; and then, well, who knows?

The who's-to-say and who-knows are important. The metanarrative doesn't let the narrative rest. The story we know can bounce off stories we don't in countless ways. That's the tragedy of Elphie, Glinda, and the rest of us. That's our hope, too.

Raye's performance stands out for her comedic physicality and timing, all the more so given that she's usually a citizen of Oz and doesn't get to be so "Popular" every night. Her hilariously girlish bowled over backbends, bed flops, and floor splats are extreme. This goody-two-shoes has evidently cast a flexibility spell on her spine and hips.

Michael Genet was quite pitifully sympathetic as the professor-goat Doctor Dillamond. Kimberly Immanuel had a dark, quiet fire to her as Nessarose. And Jake Pedersen, as the munchkin Boq, transformed himself dynamically from Glinda's unrequited-love-struck toady to the resentful love prisoner of Nessarose.

The script highlights couples who "deserve each other" in various amorous, ironic, and insidious ways. Elphaba and Glinda discover that they are two sides of the same magic coin and Jordan Litz is the sturdy Fiyero, the misunderstood dreamboat drawn to Elphaba's strange beauty. Two of the most delicate, intricate duets feature these pairings, "For Good" and "As Long as You're Mine."

Both numbers were touching on Wednesday, but in a few moments there and more glaringly during belted ballads like "Defying Gravity" and "No Good Deed," the principals' voices strained and pitches veered flat. Press night was delayed for cast illnesses and it wouldn't stun me to discover a large platter of lozenges being passed around backstage. Especially given this season's Covid-flu-RSV trifecta, the sound balance Wednesday overplayed the orchestra and underplayed the vocalists. In the first act, under conductor Evan Roider, the winds were a bit pitchy, the brass occasionally sloppy. Real strings are a luxury in a touring production, especially for a musical known for its multiple-keyboard synth orchestrations. Still, I missed the unmistakable lyrical pleasure of a few real bows on real strings.

The ensemble tunes were forceful and the crowd movement, by musical stage director Wayne Cilento and dance arranger James Lynn Abbott, excitably eccentric. Susan Hilferty's costumes are colorful and wild, and Eugene Lee's steampunk set outstanding. Hats off also to special effects designer Chic Silber and team for casually whirling witches, Oz folk, and flying monkeys hither and thither through the rolling stage fog.

Wave your good-health wand upon this cast and crew, and whether you Washingtonians are newly Wicked, occasionally Wicked, or obsessively Wicked, you have another five weeks to discover just how Wicked you are.

**

Run time: two and a half hours, plus a 15-minute intermission

Photograph by Joan Marcus, courtesy of the Kennedy Center

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