'Wicked' This Way Comes
Two weeks after the novel "Wicked" was published in 1995, movie moguls were clamoring to produce a film version. They just couldn't figure out how to make a movie about what happened in the Land of Oz before Dorothy dropped in.
"My own suspicion is that they were a little puzzled," said author Gregory Maguire. " 'Lord of the Rings' and 'Harry Potter' hadn't hit yet (in the cineplexes), and I think they were a little nervous about making a $100 million movie with no role for Mel Gibson in it. So everyone was kind of dragging their heels."
Not long after that, Stephen Schwartz — best known at the time as the composer of the '70s musical "Godspell"— visited Maguire at his home outside Boston and tried to persuade the novelist to allow "Wicked" to be made into a Broadway musical.
He told Maguire that what made his big, dense-with-ideas, filled-with-big-emotions novel so difficult to film made it perfect for the stage: Playgoing audiences, after all, think nothing of it when a character steps into a spotlight and sings about her feelings.
Schwartz's hard sell was unnecessary. "I was 99 percent convinced before he even arrived," Maguire said. "I love musicals. I can sing all of 'Pajama Game' by heart."
It was a good decision all around. Though plans for a "Wicked" movie are still on the back burner, the Broadway musical version, which opened in 2003, was a smash hit and continues today to play to consistently packed houses. The touring version, which opens tonight at Minneapolis' Orpheum Theatre, similarly sold out quickly.
There has been a reciprocal effect, as well. The book "Wicked," which had sold 800,000 copies in the eight years before the musical opened, is closing in on its 2 million sale. Maguire's most recent novel, "Son of a Witch," spent 14 weeks on the New York Times best-seller list.
So, what's better? Being a top-selling novelist or seeing that top-selling novel on the Broadway stage? That's like picking the cuter puppy, but the rush of the theater, Maguire said, is a unique thrill.
"A writer works by dreadful intimacy with himself," Maguire said. "It's very intimate and very lonely in many respects. So, to be able to sit in a theater and have 1,700 people sitting with you, in pleasure, cheering something that was in your head. … Well, I don't ever expect to have that kind of moment of profound professional satisfaction ever again in my life."
Which is not to say the road was a completely smooth one. Maguire wasn't involved in the creation of the Broadway stageplay and was content to leave the aesthetic translation to the theater professionals. He was, however, astonished to learn about a major plot twist from page to stage: In the novel, Elphaba (the green-skinned protagonist better known to generations of "Oz" fans as the Wicked Witch of the West) dies.
On the stage, she lives — more or less — happily ever after.
"The moment that I learned about that particular plot development, I was in a room with 125 other people when the cast was doing a sing-through," Maguire said. "I sat there and I had tears in my eyes during the penultimate number, thinking, this is rocking … this is great.
"Then, the man reading the stage directions said 'X' happens," Maguire continued. "My body temperature went down to about 18 degrees, and I clawed at my elbow till blood came out to keep from screaming."
Maguire has come to reconcile himself with the change. "We live in a world of imprecise apprehensions," he said. "So, who knows what really happens? The mood of the play ends where the mood of the book ends: There's still this grand divorce between Elphaba and the world she loves. It just gets there by theatrical ends rather than by novelistic ends."
Still, he acknowledges a bit of karma. The night before Idina Menzel, who created the role of Elphaba on Broadway, was to play the role for the last time, she was injured onstage, falling through a trapdoor in a scene where the Wicked Witch of the West melts.
Menzel attended what was supposed to be her final performance the next evening. At the subsequent party marking her departure from the cast, the actress — probably still a little loopy from painkillers — crooked a finger in Maguire's direction.
"I knew why I fell through the trapdoor," she told the author. "It was because you always thought the witch should die."
"My own suspicion is that they were a little puzzled," said author Gregory Maguire. " 'Lord of the Rings' and 'Harry Potter' hadn't hit yet (in the cineplexes), and I think they were a little nervous about making a $100 million movie with no role for Mel Gibson in it. So everyone was kind of dragging their heels."
Not long after that, Stephen Schwartz — best known at the time as the composer of the '70s musical "Godspell"— visited Maguire at his home outside Boston and tried to persuade the novelist to allow "Wicked" to be made into a Broadway musical.
He told Maguire that what made his big, dense-with-ideas, filled-with-big-emotions novel so difficult to film made it perfect for the stage: Playgoing audiences, after all, think nothing of it when a character steps into a spotlight and sings about her feelings.
Schwartz's hard sell was unnecessary. "I was 99 percent convinced before he even arrived," Maguire said. "I love musicals. I can sing all of 'Pajama Game' by heart."
It was a good decision all around. Though plans for a "Wicked" movie are still on the back burner, the Broadway musical version, which opened in 2003, was a smash hit and continues today to play to consistently packed houses. The touring version, which opens tonight at Minneapolis' Orpheum Theatre, similarly sold out quickly.
There has been a reciprocal effect, as well. The book "Wicked," which had sold 800,000 copies in the eight years before the musical opened, is closing in on its 2 million sale. Maguire's most recent novel, "Son of a Witch," spent 14 weeks on the New York Times best-seller list.
So, what's better? Being a top-selling novelist or seeing that top-selling novel on the Broadway stage? That's like picking the cuter puppy, but the rush of the theater, Maguire said, is a unique thrill.
"A writer works by dreadful intimacy with himself," Maguire said. "It's very intimate and very lonely in many respects. So, to be able to sit in a theater and have 1,700 people sitting with you, in pleasure, cheering something that was in your head. … Well, I don't ever expect to have that kind of moment of profound professional satisfaction ever again in my life."
Which is not to say the road was a completely smooth one. Maguire wasn't involved in the creation of the Broadway stageplay and was content to leave the aesthetic translation to the theater professionals. He was, however, astonished to learn about a major plot twist from page to stage: In the novel, Elphaba (the green-skinned protagonist better known to generations of "Oz" fans as the Wicked Witch of the West) dies.
On the stage, she lives — more or less — happily ever after.
"The moment that I learned about that particular plot development, I was in a room with 125 other people when the cast was doing a sing-through," Maguire said. "I sat there and I had tears in my eyes during the penultimate number, thinking, this is rocking … this is great.
"Then, the man reading the stage directions said 'X' happens," Maguire continued. "My body temperature went down to about 18 degrees, and I clawed at my elbow till blood came out to keep from screaming."
Maguire has come to reconcile himself with the change. "We live in a world of imprecise apprehensions," he said. "So, who knows what really happens? The mood of the play ends where the mood of the book ends: There's still this grand divorce between Elphaba and the world she loves. It just gets there by theatrical ends rather than by novelistic ends."
Still, he acknowledges a bit of karma. The night before Idina Menzel, who created the role of Elphaba on Broadway, was to play the role for the last time, she was injured onstage, falling through a trapdoor in a scene where the Wicked Witch of the West melts.
Menzel attended what was supposed to be her final performance the next evening. At the subsequent party marking her departure from the cast, the actress — probably still a little loopy from painkillers — crooked a finger in Maguire's direction.
"I knew why I fell through the trapdoor," she told the author. "It was because you always thought the witch should die."
