Wicked

I saw Wicked last night. My friends and I were lucky enough to get some tickets to the New Orleans performance with the touring roadshow.  I haven't been to a Broadway show since I left IU, so it was nice to be back in a theater to see a big production.  I really miss that about IU.

I never expected to get to see this one.  I  had read the book a long time ago, and I remember being powerfully moved by it.  I need to go back and reread it because I apparently had forgotten a lot of it, but the musical was amazing. 

The basic storyline was the same.  Elphaba was the scapegoat for everyone else's issues because she was different.  It's easy to blame the one who doesn't quite conform, who doesn't play by the rules.  The performers in the roles of Elphaba and Glinda were perfect.  Elphaba, as she grew and bloomed, was powerful.  Glinda was both poignant and hillarious as she fluttered around the stage and became something more than "blonde." 

The songs were grand, and I loved the spectacle of it. What broke my heart, though, was the song "I'm Not that Girl."  Oh, it made tears well up in my eyes.  There were so many great songs in it, but I felt that one like a knife strike directly.  I may not be green, but the feeling reflected is all too familiar.

I'm going to get the soundtrack, and I'm going to reread the book.  I guess I'm off on another kick.  That's okay.  There are worse kicks to be on, I suppose.   If you'd like to read it, too, here's a link from Amazon to it:  Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West (Harper Fiction)