Wicked: For Good Review: No Place Like Closure

It’s funny how watching a film like Wicked: For Good—a story built around perspective, misunderstanding, and second chances—required two viewings for me to click with it.

I left my first screening of the musical sequel feeling unsure how to approach its review, caught somewhere between admiration and mild disappointment. Twenty-four hours later, I went back. This time in IMAX, alone, in a theater with proper sound and picture, something clicked. The better presentation helped, but it was more than that. I had given myself space to see the film for what it was, not just what I expected it to be.

To be clear: this is not a flawless sequel. It loses some of the wonder and novelty that made Wicked: Part One such a surprise success. But it deepens the emotional resonance between its two leads and brings a sense of finality that’s rare in big-budget musical franchises.

Picking up where the first film left off, Wicked: For Good finds Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo, Harriet) in exile, now fully branded the Wicked Witch of the West. She’s hiding in the woods, trying to liberate Oz’s silenced and imprisoned Animals while still clinging to hope. Glinda (Ariana Grande, Don’t Look Up) lives in a bubble, literally and emotionally, at the Wizard’s side. She has become the smiling public face of the Wizard’s oppressive regime, soon to marry Fiyero (Jonathan Bailey, Jurassic World: Rebirth), and is haunted by the growing chasm between her and her old friend.

When Dorothy Gale—yes, that Dorothy—drops into Oz by a curious “twister of fate”, everything spirals and the story splinters again. Betrayals deepen. Truths surface. Consequences become clear. And the two women who once changed each other’s lives are forced to face what they’ve become.

Jon M. Chu (In the Heights) returns as director, finishing the sprawling two-part adaptation of the beloved musical. With original book writer Winnie Holzman and screenwriter Dana Fox (Cruella) expanding the second act for the screen, For Good has space to explore what most stage adaptations skim: fallout, fatigue, and the cost of heroism. That tonal shift will challenge some audiences. Act Two of the original musical is darker and slower, and that carries over here.

Let’s talk about those two women. A lot of early awards chatter has focused on Grande, and sure, Glinda’s arc hits its literal high notes in this second half. But I struggled with her performance on first watch. Her vocals were there, but some of her acting choices felt unnatural and stiff. This curious breathy delivery style she’s developed doesn’t always work for film. Seeing it again in better circumstances, I found more of the nuance she was playing with. Still, she’s more pop diva than screen natural, and while I expect she’ll earn another nomination, I wouldn’t call it a winning turn when the role demands both.

Erivo, on the other hand, remains flawless in a class of her own. She commands every scene with a deeply principled intensity, never overselling Elphaba’s pain or rage. Her new solo “No Place Like Home” doesn’t blend seamlessly into the musical’s DNA, but it gives her a showcase moment that pays off. Erivo understands this character from the inside out—how she walks, how she aches, how she hopes. Her performance is all about restraint and power, and if anyone deserves to “defy gravity” this awards season, it’s her. “No Good Deed” remains the 11 o’clock showstopper, though, with Erivo letting loose in a visceral vocal display that makes the IMAX speakers earn their keep.

Their chemistry? Still excellent. Their final scene together—built around “For Good”—lands with all the ache and bittersweet catharsis it needs. You feel the weight of their history and the cost of their choices. How can you not be moved?

As for the rest of the ensemble… it’s a mixed bag. Jeff Goldblum (Asteroid City), so strange and eerie in the first film, seems half-asleep here. Even his solo number, “Wonderful,” had to be juiced with extra Glinda just to generate life. Michelle Yeoh (Crazy Rich Asians) is given more to do this time, but her performance is strangely flat. Her vocals register somewhere between lullaby and dial tone, and not in an intentional way. Bailey—People Magazine’s reigning Sexiest Man Alive—is underused, though his scenes with Erivo still pulse with emotional heat. This is especially true during one passage, a major change from the stage show I remain on the fence about.

Ethan Slater‘s Boq gets more dimension and handles it well, but it’s Marissa Bode‘s Nessarose who undergoes the biggest rewrite—and it doesn’t quite land. The sanitized attempt to sidestep ableist subtext is well-intentioned, but the changes feel like overcorrection. What was once a powerful and tragic moment now plays murky and illogical. Nessarose’s moral complexity and desires are sanded down when they needed sharpening. Unfortunately, Bode—still new to film—lacks the range to elevate the weakened material, unable to compensate for what the script takes away from her character.

Technically, the film is a beauty. Paul Tazewell‘s Oscar-winning costume design evolves elegantly—Glinda’s gowns become sleeker, more mature; Elphaba’s look grows darker, more battle-worn. Production designer Nathan Crowley gives us breathtaking new sets, especially Elphaba’s arboreal lair and the reimagined Kiamo Ko castle, that mix practical and digital elements beautifully, though some VFX-heavy scenes aren’t as polished as you’d hope, especially with the extra post-production time. Still, musical numbers like “No Good Deed” are genuinely thrilling on a big screen, and Alice Brooks’ cinematography shines brightest during Glinda’s new song, “The Girl in the Bubble,” using different dimensions of mirrored surfaces to reflect her fractured inner life.

If the first film was about friendship and rising above judgment, this one sharpens the political edge. The oppression of Oz’s Animals and the public manipulation by the Wizard feel uncomfortably close to our own headlines in 2025. The smear campaign against Elphaba, the rewriting of history, the forced silence of marginalized groups—it all resonates. More chilling still, the film shows how people who’ve invested their faith in a leader will cling to the lie even after the truth is revealed—they’d rather double down than admit they were duped. And it forces Glinda, finally, to stop being complicit. The metaphor isn’t subtle, but it doesn’t need to be.

So is Wicked: For Good as magical and satisfying as the first? No. And I do wonder if this second chapter would’ve been better served as an extended final act of a single film. It starts slower, hits fewer comedic beats, and feels burdened by the need to wrap everything up, though the emotional arcs land as intended. The two leading performances—particularly Erivo’s—dig deep.

Taken as the second half of a whole, it works. Watch both parts together and that early sluggishness feels less like a flaw and more like a breath before the storm. It’s not a perfect film, but it honors the story that has always asked: what does it mean to be good, and who gets to decide who’s wicked? Here, we learn the sobering answer to both, and that’s worth exploring.