In ‘Wicked,’ the power of propaganda takes center stage
The campaign against Elphaba echoes Nazi messaging about Jews
Cynthia Erivo as Elphaba, fully embodying her role as the Wicked Witch. Courtesy of Universal Pictures
Many pieces have been written comparing the story of the hit-Broadway musical Wicked — a riff on the backstory of The Wizard of Oz — to that of the Jewish people. The musical, which was just adapted into a blockbuster film by John Chu, explains how Elphaba, who was born with unnaturally green skin, came to be known, unjustly, as the Wicked Witch of the West. And since the movie came out, numerous writers have argued that Elphaba’s story of persecution and discrimination is particularly Jewish.
However, the similarity goes beyond simple persecution; Wicked is a parable about how propaganda can be leveraged by authority figures, whether against Elphaba or the Jews, and the different forms it can take.
Gregory Maguire, the author of the novel upon which the musical is based, first became interested in the power of words after reading a 1991 newspaper headline comparing Saddam Hussein to Hitler. His immediate emotional response to that allegory made him realize how built-in word associations can cause us to form an opinion on an issue with no additional information.
In Wicked, Maguire wanted to examine how language is used to prompt violence against minorities and dissenting voices in a society. The one-word trigger is not “Hitler,” though, nor the Nazi’s hatred for anything described as “Jewish,” but “wicked.” As in the Wicked Witch.
In the film, after Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) refuses to help the Wizard (Jeff Goldblum) in his persecution of talking animals, she flees the Wizard’s Emerald City. However, the Wizard and his co-conspirator Madam Mirabelle (Michelle Yeoh) try to discredit her before she can tell the Ozians about the Wizard being responsible for the disappearing animals.
They make nation-wide broadcasts about a shadowy and undefined “evil in Oz,” embodied by the “Wicked Witch.” They don’t actually define what about her is so evil and wicked but manage to get people terrified of her just the same.
Similarly, the Nazi party in Germany would vaguely reference the greediness and evil nature of the Jews, creating a public idea of the Jewish people as a malevolent force. “The Jews are our misfortune” was one of the favorite slogans of Nazi newspaper Der Sturmer.
These words were often accompanied by disturbing caricatures of Jews, portraying them as greasy, hook-nosed, conniving imps. Similarly, in the movie’s opening number “No One Mourns the Wicked,” Elphaba is portrayed as a giant, ugly green monster with a lolling demon tongue.
But why do the Ozians so easily believe the words of the Wizard? As Wicked portrays it, it’s because the Wizard has built himself up as an omniscient, omnipotent and benevolent being. In a very Jesus-like fashion, the public believes him to have fulfilled a prophecy and become their savior.
Elphaba discovers, however, that the Wizard’s power is completely fabricated. He lied about having magic. The booming voice and giant wooden face he uses to talk to Oz obscure the fact that he is actually a pretty physically unimposing, powerless guy.
Hitler also carefully crafted his persona, and would practice his speeches to the most minute detail to make sure every part of his performance emulated power. It wasn’t just his words he would style, but his mannerisms, his gestures and his uniforms.
In Nazi Germany, aesthetics were core to conveying the gloriousness of Hitler’s regime. The Nazis appropriated Roman imagery, using the architecture of the world’s most iconic empire to symbolize the era of power and strength Hitler claimed to have ushered the country into — nevermind those who were losing their lives in the process. A focus on classical art, and a hatred of modern, so-called “degenerate” art, also communicated the fascist values of the regime.
Similarly in Oz, the splendor of the Emerald City, the Wizard’s home, parallels the splendor the Wizard has brought to the Ozians. And in the city, far from the countryside where the newly-silenced animals are being shackled, it is easy for Ozians to forget the price others are paying for their big emerald buildings.
Maguire’s story is not just a lesson against counting people out without having the full story. It’s also a strong warning about paying attention to leaders who seem too good to be true, looking beyond their words and recognizing manipulation in its most artful form.
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