Wicked is Bodyqueer at Heart

I saw the new (2024) Wicked film adaptation and, wow what a film. The singing, the acting, the story, the staging, everything. I only cried four times while watching. Besides encouraging all 2 of you who read this and haven’t already seen the film to go watch it, I just have one thought that will bother me until I put it to paper, which is basically this: the concept of bodyqueer has way more explanatory power for this film than disability, race, or animal rights which are all takes I’ve seen on social media. Let me explain, hopefully without any spoilers as to the film’s ending.

If the concept of bodyqueer is unfamiliar to you, you can find the link to the post where I explain it below:

But a quick recap for those who won’t read all that: in my life I’ve found that in some ways the concept of “disability” falls short in describing my experience, which is better captured by describing the norms that my body subverts. In addition, there are many nondisabled bodies that violate these very same norms, but they have no larger group such as “disability” for sharing their knowledge and experience.

Honestly, Wicked perfectly illustrates the concept, so rather than elaborating further let me just dive right in. The main character, Elphaba, is green-skinned, and from the moment of her birth (in the opening scenes) is treated as abnormal and unwanted. So before categorizing or attaching a particular group label to the film, we can easily say that the story is primarily about Elphaba’s experiences of breaking norms and being othered.

Some have tried to cast this as an allegory for racism, given the obvious connections to skin color and discrimination. Another connection particular to this film adaptation is the fact that Elphaba is played by the amazing Cynthia Erivo, who is black. While there may be some truth to the racism connection, it falls a little flat given the many black characters throughout the film who are treated no differently on the basis of their apparent race, and more importantly, the fact that there are no other green characters, no green-skinned culture, or any other of the important group-related discrimination that would more clearly mark this as racism. Elphaba is, most clearly, weird.

Another thread of analysis, originating from scholars of veganism, holds that the most salient discrimination in the film is against the talking animals, and Elphaba suffers not because of her skin color but because of her resistance to the state on their behalf. Certainly the patterns here more closely resemble classic discrimination — silencing voices (in this case literally), caging and violence, etc. — and Elphaba does in fact get labeled as a state enemy because of it, but it still leaves a good deal of Elphaba’s experience unexplained. Her oft-repeated self-introduction to new people includes “Okay, let's get this over with. No, I'm not seasick, yes, I've always been green, no, I didn't chew grass as a child” which I strongly resonated with — I have a few similar phrases, and not because I’m an enemy of the state.

The other reason this theme doesn’t hit for me is that the animals are talking animals. While it is true that animals have feelings and can communicate with us through their body language, for which they deserve more respect than they get on a factory farm for example, it is not true that they are sentient in the same way as humans the way these talking animals are. Rather than saying much about animal rights, I think the film is instead saying something about beings that are fully sentient but have weird bodies.

Finally, while disability is a theme in the film, Elphaba does not fit any of the usual definitions of disability. Her body is just as able as anyone else’s, or even more so due to magical abilities. I appreciate the show’s depiction of disability through Elphaba’s sister Nessarose, who uses a wheelchair. The theme was handled deftly, but I would consider it a secondary theme.

Now that some alternatives are out of the way, I want to point out connections to bodyqueer themes, primarily through Elphaba’s character but also through scenes involving the talking animals and Nessarose.

The most obvious, which almost goes without saying, is that Elphaba violates beauty norms. The clear subtext is that everyone considers her ugly, for example:

Morrible: Yes, yes, of course! Oh, You must be Miss Nessarose, the governor's daughter. What a tragically beautiful face you have!

Morrible sees Elphaba, snorts...

Morrible: And you must be.

Elphaba: I'm the other daughter. Elphaba. I'm beautifully tragic.

This scene hit me hard — it outlines two different but related experiences of pity. Nessarose is considered beautiful but broken, and Elphaba is considered ugly, but whole.

This plays an important part in the dance scene — Elphaba has never been to a dance, but immediately recognizes the others’ reaction to her as one of disgust and amusement, as she has experienced her whole life. In a powerful moment (yes this was one of the times I cried) she queers the dance party by refusing to turn and run away, but rather dances without apologizing for who she is (violating behavior norms). She claims beauty regardless of how others percieve her, and it is awesome.

The other piece of this theme worth mentioning is Elphaba’s relationship to Fiyero. Although it becomes clear she desires a romantic relationship with him, she assumes they can’t be together, heartbreakingly illustrated by the song “I’m Not That Girl” (yes, I cried here too). In this case, there’s no queering, just norms and being on the wrong side of them.

The next theme I want to point out is ability norms, illustrated well by the following scene, featuring professor Dillamond, a talking goat:

Dr. Dillamond: Quiet. Quiet, everyone. Now then, I have read your most recent essays, and I am amazed to report some progress. Although, some of us still tend to favor form over content, Miss [bleats]: Glinda.

Galinda: Oh, actually, it's "Ga-linda." With a "Ga."

Dr. Dillamond: Mmm. Yes, of course. [bleats]: Glinda.

Galinda: No, it's... -[laughter]- Not even close. Um, I don't see what the problem is. You know, every other professor manages to pronouncify my name.

Elphaba: Maybe the pronuncification of your precious name is not the sole focus of Dr. Dillamond's life. Maybe Dr. Dillamond is not like every other professor. Maybe some of us are just different.

[…]

Dr. Dillamond: Quiet, please. Please. Yes, we goats lack upper front teeth, which accounts for the mispronunciation, Miss [bleats]: Glinda.

Here, the norm that every person should pronounce words a certain way is violated by Dillamond’s body — he physically cannot, but no allowance is given for his bodily differences. Elphaba strongly relates to him, stating that “some of us are just different” but I think the connection runs deeper than simply “being different.” They share the fact that their bodies break norms, and I think Elphaba is probably also thinking of her sister whose body also violates ability norms.

There’s a lot more to discuss here especially with regard to disability, but I’ll leave it here for now and just end with one thought: none of the other lenses I’ve tried do much to tie the film together the way that bodyqueer does, and though I don’t want to make too much out of it, it does warm my heart a bit that the concept seems to have a certain explanatory power here.