No one mourns the wicked

NEW YORK – And so came the fateful day that I finally caught sight of the Emerald City. It was just as I dreamed it, bedecked with majesty unlike any other. The sizable Gershwin Theatre, home to the wonderful world that Gregory Maguire had created since penning Wicked, was testament to the celebrity it has amassed throughout the years. Since opening in San Francisco, it has traveled the Great White Way – flying bi-coastal into the wonderful world of Broadway. The promise of this new musical brought forth many expectations. Wicked surely walks the walk and is worlds away from disappointing.

To even attempt to put to words this astonishing experience, it is best to start from the very beginning – which as you all know is a very good place to start. The picture is set on a panoramic New York afternoon.

After a heavy meal of a McDonalds Quarter Pounder on 222 West, 51st Street, an off-the-block McDo from the Broadway strip, I started on a five-minute hike to the Gershwin Theatre to catch the matinee show of Wicked. A handy Casio Exilim would be my steady companion – and it would surely be put to good use as soon as I arrived.

Just meters away from destination, I was already itching to snap away at that Wicked sign juxtaposed above the theater. It was complemented by a bus that sped by with the logo of the show, a text message from fellow fanatic Eartha professing her excitement, and many other enthusiasts dashing by me in dire obsession. Seeing all these, it hit me. "My one short day at the Emerald City" wasn’t so much of a dream anymore. In a few minutes’ time, it was to become reality.

The theater was just as I imagined it — a gleaming portal into the enchanting world of Oz. The brass doors and the glass windows situated near the entrance of the multi-level theater reflected a vaudeville sentiment, thus sparking a tinge of excitement. Through the doors came shelves of Wicked merchandise, pouring out of the box-office and selling like wildfire. From emerald lens spectacles to furry green monkeys to pointy witch hats, they came in all shapes and sizes. They all came, I saw, and my wallet was set to conquer.

With a meaty amount of wickedness in me, I then scaled up the elevator past the Narnia-inspired Ozian map that was tapered against the gigantic wall. There, on the second floor of the theatre, lay a Wicked costume and prop displays encased in various glass compartments for the regular spectator’s gazing pleasure. These had all been a welcome addition to the show’s gigantic enterprise since its humble San Francisco beginnings. There had also been a cocktail bar located in the center of the lobby for Wicked’s elderly clientele. If not for America’s drinking age limit of 21, I would have probably grabbed myself a green drink or two just for kicks.

En route to the Orchestra section where my fanaticism would be rewarded, I excitedly gave my green ticket to the Ozian-dressed usherette. She then escorted me to a ruby cushioned 24th row seat which was adequately positioned from the stage. It was perfect, right smack in the middle of the theater. That is until children started to flock towards my section – children who annoyingly, inquisitively, babbled during the show. But that’s where the fourth wall comes in, or unfortunately in this case, the third, second, and first as well. The situation proved extremely difficult for this fan who flew oh-so-many miles to see the show. Partnered with jetlag, I just had to overcome those unbearable "sleeping spells" to appreciate the show in its entirety. But as the merry knights of Spamalot earlier said, "Always [do] look at the bright side of life." I was in Oz, nothing else mattered.

To the whoosh of the conductor’s magic wand, the haunting score of Wicked began. It was phenomenal, and it was as though something wicked had gotten over me. Stephen Schwartz sure has marked his comeback since composing the score for Children of Eden. His enchanting tunes ranged from cryptic to persnickety, from the show’s poignant opening number, No One Mourns the Wicked, to Glinda’s hilariously ditzy Popular. The songs seem to generate a life of their own, communicating the powerful emotions that swirled about Wicked’s fascinating characters.

Since opening in 2003, the show has employed many talents to its commanding cast. Idina Menzel (Rent), who played the original Elphaba, earned herself a Tony for Best Actress in a musical and is set to reprise her role as Maureen in the movie rendition of Rent. Tony-Award winner Kristen Chenoweth (You’re a Good Man Charlie Brown) has since gone on to star in Candide and appeared as Nicole Kidman’s bosom buddy in Bewitched. Joel Grey (Cabaret) was once part of the cast as the scheming Wizard, so were Taye Diggs, also appearing in Rent, and Joey McIntyre as the dashing Fiyero. Today, the cast includes Soshana Bean (Hairspray) as Elphaba and Meggan Mullaley as the good witch Glinda. Both seem to have promising futures ahead of them, as they portrayed strikingly well the characters that Menzel and Chenoweth have cultivated in their respective tenures. Wicked, in its splendid avenue for showcasing theater talent, has surely opened many doors for its talented actors.

Mesmerized by the winged monkeys and their aerial acrobatics, I sat back to the evocative sounds of Stephen Schwartz and the amazing choreography that had been infused into these musical numbers. Hair-raising, chilling, and delivering on the goosebumps that it had promised, the theater audience ooohhhed and aaahhhed as Act One powerfully culminated into Wicked’s signature tune Defying Gravity. Bean was the perfect match as she hit those high notes that Lea Salonga prayed oh-so-hard for (and successfully reached) in her recent concert in Carnegie Hall. It was nothing short of magical.

And just when I thought it couldn’t get better, Act Two began after a token 15-minute intermission. The witches had gone their separate ways after a falling out due to opposing idealisms. Both had migrated to the opposite ends of the spectrum – Glinda becoming the "Good Witch" and Elphaba, "The Wicked Witch of the East." The show just got wittier and wittier as Dorothy dropped in to mix things up, marking the start of her magical journey to the Wizard of Oz. Here is where Maguire succeeds in exploring the behind-the-scenes of the classic tale. Why had Glinda waited until the very end to tell Dorothy that she had only to tap her ruby slippers to go home? Why was the Lion so cowardly in the first place? All these questions, along with so many other twists and turns, were ingeniously answered and portrayed in the second act of this remarkable show.

I was right to say earlier that I was going to tear. How couldn’t you when so much passion was infringed into producing this astounding musical? Wicked has chromed many a brick road to become the phenomenon that it is – touching so many lives with its powerful music and communicating to the world that being different is not such a wicked thing after all. And more importantly, it has successfully dispelled that awful claim that theater is long dead. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s alive and here to stay.

I left Gershwin with a smirk on my face. My smirk had taken the form of Elphaba’s in the musical’s memorable logo, scheming, conniving, mischievous, and profoundly mysterious. Perhaps it was that arrogance for my momentous acquisition, that I had ridden the whirlwind out of Kansas St., Makati to trudge the yellow brick road to Oz. Opportunity aside, maybe it’s becaus, for the very first time in my life, beyond my reinforced passion for theater, I felt so utterly and completely… wicked.

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Catch your breath and let me know what you think at chasingtoff@yahoo.com.