SPOILER WARNING: This article contains spoilers for BOTH PARTS of Wicked
Like any good story with explicitly political themes, the return of Broadway musical Wicked to the cultural discourse has revived discussions regarding the real-world material that the play allegorizes.
Just as debates over the X-Men’s inspiration resurface every time Fox or Marvel announces a new movie in the franchise, the cinematic adaptation of Wicked has led new and old fans alike to examine the symbolism of the institutions of Oz, Elphaba’s struggle for animal equality, and Glinda’s decision to stick with the Wizard and leave her best friend.
It’s safe to say that both the musical and the novel that inspired it were influenced by a diverse range of societal issues, and therefore trying to pin it all on one narrative would be a fool’s errand. But by examining the specifically Jewish aspects of the story, we can better understand what our people should be taking away from Wicked.
It is no coincidence that the story is full of Jewish themes – while the novel’s author, Gregory Maguire, is clearly not a Jew, many of the musical’s creators are members of the tribe.
Writers Steven Schwartz and Winnie Holzman, producer Mark Platt, Idina Menzel who originated the role of Elphaba on Broadway, and Joel Grey who originated the Wizard are all Jews. The sensibilities of these American Jews, and the American Jewish experience in particular, clearly inspired the production of Wicked.
One of the most conspicuous allegories is the backstory of Oz, teased out in bits of exposition throughout the musical, and presented more explicitly in the movie’s version of “Wiz-o-Mania.”
The Ozians see themselves as the inheritors of an ancient people, endowed with magical powers. When the age of magic ended, the ancient ones’ secrets were locked inside a heavy tome. While claiming its heritage, this book is totally illegible to the Ozians, so much so that a charlatan can woo the whole society by making up new words to replace the ancient text, while reinforcing his deception with impressive parlor tricks.
When spelled out this explicitly, it’s almost shocking that more Jewish voices haven’t chimed in to claim the “Grimmerie” as a stand-in for the Torah (Written or Oral). But most American Jews, especially those drawn to Broadway, are less familiar with their own people’s collective narrative. More importantly, they’re uncomfortable with this narrative’s implications for the Ozian society that they themselves inhabit. The “Judeo-Christian” values that the United States is ostensibly built upon are what Nietzsche referred to as, “perhaps the greatest piece of temerity and sin against the spirit,” a forgery that attempts to pass the New Testament off as a continuation of the Hebrew Bible, while betraying its spirit in an attempt to replace Israel.
Whether we want to see Wicked’s Oz as a stand-in for the Roman Empire after the conversion of Constantine, the Hellenized societies of the ancient eastern Mediterranean, or as the contemporary West, the Jews have experienced all three as criminal attempts to appropriate our people’s culture into the cosmopolitan power-structure of the world’s dominant empire.
Or at least some Jews have. This is where we meet our protagonists.
The tension between Elphaba and Glinda, personally in the first act and politically in the second, is also highly familiar to the Jewish story.
Elphaba finds herself an outsider, looking different and forced to feel guilty for the failings of those around her. Her commitment to justice, exemplified through her care for the animals who are being pushed out of Ozian society, only sharpens the distinction between her and her peers. As the only Ozian who can actually read the Grimmerie and can therefore help reconnect the society to its mythical roots, her teachers, and even the wizard want to preserve her as an ally. But only if she’ll play along. As soon as she insists that the power contained in the Grimmerie not be leveraged by the Wizard and his lackeys, she becomes an even greater pariah, not just an oddity but the embodiment of evil, a societal cancer that needs to be eradicated.
The ancient Israelites experienced a similar trajectory, being seen by the idolatrous societies of the ancient world as an oddity and aberration. Our commitment to our values led us into conflict with the regional empires of West Asia (despite the respect Alexander the Great and Plato held for our sages and our traditions). When Greece and Rome insisted that we adopt their ideological paradigms and value systems, and we resisted, no resources were spared by the greatest armies in the world to try to wipe us out.
On the other side of the divide stands Glinda. While raised amongst the elite of Ozian society, and living in total contradiction to Elphaba, she eventually comes to form a bond of sisterhood with her “nemesis,” who even tries to help her connect to their magical roots.
Yet this friendship is not sufficient to keep Glinda by Elphaba’s side, and when push comes to shove, Glinda sides with the Wizard, replacing Elphaba as his “court witch” and presiding over the Wizard’s domination of Oz – something that required her active participation in vilifying her best friend.
Like Josephus, a Judean general at the time of the Great Revolt against Rome who became a turncoat, betraying his people to cosy up to the emperor and becoming the imperial court historian, the narrative of Wicked is framed through Glinda’s perspective. The opening number presents her silently mourning her friend as the masses cheer her demise, and the story is set in motion as she reminisces about their first encounter.
But what about the modern Jewish experience? Schwartz, Holzman, and Platt developed this musical in the present, in the United States? Are these ancient Jewish archetypes currently relevant enough to motivate these artists?
Glindas are not hard to find. We may even say that all of the Jews involved in the production are themselves Glinda, telling the story of their people from the outside, as an observer, and not an active participant in Jewish history.
And Elphaba?
Maybe she’s “those Jews” who used to make American Jews squirm for being “too Jewish” in the land of opportunity. Maybe she’s “those Jews” who left the Diaspora behind to continue our struggle from our own country. Maybe she’s “those Jews” who’ve kept alive the secrets of our ancient texts, and the magic contained within.
If so, positioning Elphaba as the protagonist, as the sympathetic lead, and not just the “Wicked Witch of the West,” may be the creators’ way of expressing their appreciation, and even admiration for “those Jews” even if siding with them against the Fourth Empire is a step they’re not willing to take.
And what of the ending?
Elphaba’s disappearance, and Glinda’s ascension to power may just be an admission of the faustian bargain that American Jewry has made with the “Judeo-Christian” Wizard of Oz. Glinda’s tears over Elphaba’s demise may not just be for the loss of her best friend, but also for the loss of her true self. Yes, she’s attained wealth, power, and acceptance. But at what cost?
