On ‘Wicked,’ friendship and being changed for good

“So…what did you think of ‘Wicked’?” my best friend Morgan said, her dogs barking in the background. We met when we were 16, and after 18 years of friendship, I’d finally seen her favorite musical. I turned up my phone volume, trying to collapse our 2,000-mile distance. The gravity of my response felt too big for this casual chat. I didn’t know how to tell her that the musical’s reimagining of Oz’s history had me rethinking the history of our friendship, too.

“Wicked,” part one of the cinematic adaptation of Broadway’s best-selling show of all time, opens in theaters today. To say it’s been highly anticipated is a massive understatement: This movie has been in the works since 2016, and to celebrate there’s everything from dolls to recipes to Crocs. Its co-stars, Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande, are already painting red carpets green and pink.

On Broadway, “Wicked” has enchanted audiences for over 20 years, and for good reason. Beneath its “swankified” set and costumes, it tackles timeless themes like prejudice, justice, identity and truth. But the story’s real magic is in how these ideas are represented — through the unlikely friendship of Elphaba (aka the Wicked Witch of the West) and Glinda (aka Glinda the Good). “Wicked to me, at its very core, is about friendship," Jon M. Chu, the film’s director, told an interviewer.  Watching the relationship between the two witches develop offered me a new lens for my oldest friendship.

Like Elphaba and Glinda, Morgan and I met in school — but instead of Shiz University, think Michigan, and Catholic high school. Unlike outcast Elphaba and popular Glinda, who initially clash due to their differences, our friendship was built on similarities. We loved alternative rock, theater, “The OC,” spontaneous Target trips, statement necklaces and blueberry-banana smoothies. We were, as we once proudly claimed, “the same person.”

We could have full conversations just by meeting each other’s gaze. And whenever the pressures at home or inside of ourselves got too heavy, we would go for a drive. Side by side in the car, Queens of the Stone Age blaring, felt like the safest place I’d ever be.

While we were still in high school in Michigan I imagined we’d go to the same college. We’d share a dorm, waffle between majors, discover ourselves in coffee shops and dive bars. I assumed she had the same dream. But when the time came, I was shocked to learn she wanted something else. She opted to go to an out-of-state engineering school and join their volleyball team. When she told me this, I recognized the happiness in her voice, and wanted that for her. But, I also feared for our future as friends. At 18, I couldn’t conceive of what it would do to our relationship to be so far away from each other.

At the time, her decision felt like a rejection of the college experience we could’ve had together, and in a way, of me too. And in my immediate reaction, I let that show. I couldn’t see how we could be different, and also remain the same. We left for school, each with a coffee mug decorated with photos and lyrics, and the hope that it would all work out.

Like Elphaba and Glinda, Morgan and I met in school—but instead of Shiz University, think Michigan, and Catholic high school.

Early on in their friendship, Glinda wants to make over her newly minted bestie to be more like her. But Elphaba doesn’t want to be Glinda’s — or anybody’s — project. She needs to be herself. For all Glinda’s good intentions, she fails to register this. And in her failure, I saw glimpses of my own.

Looking back, of course Morgan would leave for school; she spoke so often of a fresh start. And at 6’1” and supremely athletic, of course she would play college volleyball. Of course she would become an engineer; my girl loves a process. I love a possibility, and for my degree, I would find my way to marketing—business, but make it artsy. I would forge my fresh start among the more familiar, continuing to find myself in writing and books.

In “Defying Gravity,” the iconic duet that ends Act I of the play (also the end of the film; it’s being released in two parts), Glinda decides to stay in Oz, while Elphaba leaves to fight for her beliefs. The two friends, whose hopes have just been crushed by the Wizard, sing, “So though I can’t imagine how, I hope you’re happy right now.” As I watched this scene, I saw two people who not only overcame their differences but embraced them. They each recognized what the other must do to be true to themselves. It represents a major shift.

Now, if I replay all the decisions made in our 18-year friendship, even those that were at first difficult to understand, I’m able to see them as not rejections of each other, but reflections of who we’ve always been. All those hours driving around and belly-laughing in Target dressing rooms as girls made us comfortable enough in our own skins to live exactly as the women we are today. Isn’t that the gift of deep friendship? To be seen, accepted, and loved as our full selves. Elphaba and Glinda realize this too.

These days we even have our own Emerald City—Manhattan. For the past few years, we’ve vacationed together in the city. We see musicals. We discover cocktail bars. And instead of driving around, we life-chat our way through Central Park. This year we got matching ear piercings on a whim, hers a jewel cluster and mine a gold bar. Walking out of the shop Morgan said to me, “Our high school selves would love to know what we’re doing right now.”

Though Morgan and I haven’t lived in the same place since high school, we’ve never been too far apart. My teenage fears that the distance between us would endanger our friendship were unfounded. We’ve survived different colleges, states, boyfriends, friend groups, careers, and ever-evolving interests. But — of course we would. Our friendship was never fragile; it was always flexible. And the lyrics of “Wicked’s” penultimate song, “For Good,” contain everything I hope Morgan knows: that I’ve been changed for the better, and for good, because of her.

Follow Cognoscenti on Facebook and Instagram. And sign up for our weekly newsletter.