Unless you're Tarantino (Kill Bill) or, some would argue, Villeneuve (I wouldn't be among them), most filmmakers would struggle to successfully split a standalone story into two full-length feature films and have each half feel satisfying and cohesive. Cutting a story in half, or in the case of Wicked, a 2/3's split, inherently interrupts its natural flow, and in most cases, the pause is quite a bit longer than your average potty break during family movie night (unless you're like us with our seven kids), making it challenging to reengage an audience that was brought to its emotional peak a year prior.

Such is the case with Wicked: For Good. 2024's Part 1 ended at the story's climax (narratively, the climax does not mean "the end"), forcing For Good to bridge the five year in-story gap that's passed before the plot can even resume (oh, and it fails—I had to look up the time difference and was shocked that it was more than a few months). More than that, by stretching the first film to nearly the length of the entire musical while covering only a third of the story, the filmmakers had to pad it with filler—mostly redundant storytelling that eats up much of the first hour. That left Part Two with the burden of wrapping up (and for many subplots, introducing and wrapping up) the remaining two-thirds.

The result is some of the worst pacing in recent memory. Wicked: For Good is essentially a series of over-before-they've begun truncated character introductions and rushed subplot conclusions punctuated by a never-ending, obligatory, and underwhelming (if beautifully performed) musical number that stops the movie's momentum in its tracks, followed by a jarring jump to overlong exposition that inexpertly sets up the next wrap-up. It's the cinematic equivalent of walking a long distance in the desert only to stumble upon an air-conditioned art exhibit serving Gordon Ramsay-prepared McDonald's appetizers by waitresses and waiters on rocket skates—rinse and repeat, all in white boy rhythm.

This makes it impossible to connect with anyone or anything. It leaves emotional moments flat and moments that should have been shockingly fun thudding to the ground like a house dropped from a twister. The Tin Man and Scarecrow reveals are criminally underwhelming. Elphaba's conclusion is unearned and emotionless. Even the Ruby Slippers seem like an afterthought. Only the Wizard's "big" revelation is marginally saved by Jeff Goldblum's Goldbuminess.

That said, Wicked: For Good is stunningly beautiful. The costumes and practical sets are a visual feast of detail and color that should win their designers all of this season's awards, and even though the CGI isn't always seamlessly integrated into scenes, the loveliness of the art deco/steampunk mashup makes up for most of it.

There is one exception. Grande's unhealthy, skeletal appearance is amplified in all of her costumes. Pretty though they may be, each low-cut, strappless number uncomfortably accentuates her protruding clavicle and shoulders as well as her prison camp-bony chest. I kept wishing someone would give her a protein shake.

Cynthia Erivo, who stole the show and gave a surprisingly nuanced performance as Elphaba in Wicked: Part 1, continues to impress as the Wicked Witch of the West. She's given far less to work with in this iteration than in the last, and the character ends up as boring as the rest, but no amount of green makeup can cover her shining talent.

Arguably, the film's narrative weaknesses hit Ariana Grande the hardest. In the last movie, Grande surprised, turning out to be far less obnoxious than the trailers had made her seem, but it was her comedic sensibilities that were the most unexpected and pleasant surprise. However, For Good's more somber tone leaves her spending much of the film doing little more than making tear-filled puppy-dog eyes in scene after scene.

A special note must be made concerning Michelle Yeoh. Yeoh is a fine enough actress, but whereas in Wicked, she only seemed out of place and tone-deaf, Wicked: For Good benefits most from her relative absence.  Plainly put, the Academy Award winner is distractingly bad in each of her blessedly limited number of happily short scenes.

With all of this said, the film's greatest weakness is far more intrinsic. Elphaba is vastly more powerful than anyone else in Oz, and there's no logical reason that she can't use her powers to show the world the Wizard's true nature and easily unseat him. So, all of the simmering tension of this second half ends up feeling empty, as you scratch your head, wondering why she's even on the run, let alone doing little more than painting ineffectual graffiti in the clouds.

In the end, Wicked: For Good is the rare film that manages to be overstuffed and hollow. The production design dazzles, the cast works hard, and the music is still the music—but the fractured structure leaves the whole thing feeling like a beautiful, expensive recap reel for a better movie we never got. This two-part experiment never finds the heart, humor, or momentum to justify its existence.

PARENTAL NOTES

Just Fine, Right Up Until It's Not

• For 99% of the runtime, it's a perfectly safe family film that doesn't push the boundaries of what's age-appropriate for a PG rating. Then
  Spoiler

  Elphaba casts a spell with Fiyero's magic wand. They end up at her place and immediately, and rather awkwardly, begin to disrobe in this pseudo-casual chemistry-less foreshadowing that looks like they're getting ready to go to sleep, but anyone who's seen a movie can tell what's about to happen. It is one of the most bizarre setups to a sex scene that I've ever watched.

  • Anyway, they don't show anything, but at the end of a song, the couple magically floats into bed and kiss. The next time we see the two, they are still in bed with the blankets pulled up, but it's clear that they're supposed to be naked beneath the blankets and have just finished having marital relations.
• A 20-point deduction for a single, brief, non-graphic instance might appear disproportionate. However, it was so gratuitous and tonally misplaced that its brevity only heightened its impact. It's like having a normal, mundane conversation with someone who smacks you in the face with no warning in the middle of it, and just goes back to the conversation like nothing happened. Jarring, right?