No One Mourns the Wicked
I've decided to post in order to get the remaining thoughts out of my head about the Musical WICKED that my sister and I saw at the Pantages this weekend. I won't bore you with the entire synopsis (you can read up on your own if you so desire via the links provided) but the delight about this show was its spectacular and weaved an incredible, charming, deep story.
The costumes, the dancers, the sets, the scene changes . . . they all moved in perfect sync. It was really a demonstration of HOW theatre should be DONE. I seriously felt like I was 10 years old sometimes and couldn't resist squealing over the pure fantasy presented right in front of my eyes. When I resisted the urge to to try to figure out how they were "doing that" backstage, and let myself just be wowed I ended up having the most fun.
Within the play, the characters had to present false personas in order to have their proper place in Oz. Whether they chose their mask or it was forced on them, they all ended up being a specific character they couldn't escape. The hero, the villain, the victim, the savior; because it was all a part of the story. It made it all work. Not only that- it made the story THE WIZARD OF OZ work too!
The reason I think I love theatre and films so much is the fact that while I can get lost in the "wow" factor of the spectacle, there is the message - the story, the deeper meanings, and even the parallels to real life. The funniest thing about WICKED is that when I was working at Universal in 2004 they were actually creating sets for the show on one of our sound stages and the mere title and witch icon painted on the side of the building completely turned me off. I assumed it would be a show glorifying magic or wickedness so I wasn't interested in the least in seeing it . . . and wouldn't you know- after finally seeing it 3 years later I came away touched by one of the main themes: first outward impressions aren't ever the entire truth of something.
An age-old lesson, but this time sung to tunes I have quickly come to adore like "I'm not that girl" and --
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