• Universal Pictures

Live theatrical spectacle and cinematic spectacle are two very different beasts—and sometimes it becomes clear why that should be the case. Such a moment occurs not far into Wicked: Part One, as our protagonists Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) and Galinda (Ariana Grande)—later to become the legendary witches of The Wizard of Oz—sit in a university classroom taught by Dr. Dillamond, a talking goat. In the stage version of Wicked, as necessitated by the realities of people performing in front of an audience, Dr. Dillamond is a human actor in goat makeup; in the film, Dr. Dillamond is a CGI goat voiced by Peter Dinklage. That might not seem like a crucial distinction, until it becomes clear that one of the key thematic components of Wicked involves demagoguery and the demonization of minority groups, which hits quite a bit differently depending on whether the characters in question are humans being treated like animals, or literal animals.

It was perhaps inevitable that a fantasy like Wicked would be given the full blockbuster treatment, and director Jon M. Chu makes that clear in the opening seconds as he sends his camera swooping over the computer-generated landscape of Oz during the overture. But it's maddening when the sorts of options available to a filmmaker feel like they're changing the appeal of the source material in fundamental ways. It's a test case for the idea that limitations can help make a creative form what it is, and that when it feels like you can do anything, you don't always do the right thing.

The bones of Wicked are certainly sturdy enough, built on the often-contentious relationship between the generally-ostracized, green-skinned Elphaba and perky blonde queen-bee Galinda, stuck together as odd-couple college roommates. Writer Winnie Holzman—adapting her own book from the stage musical with Dana Fox—offers up a pair of terrific characters, and the casting here nails it. Erivo plumbs Elphaba for the sense of otherness that engenders her compassion for other ostracized beings, as well as the growing sense of her own power to do something about it. And Grande nails everything that's delightful about Galinda's own evolution from narcissism to caring in a gloriously buoyant performance. Watching the two actors work, both alone and together, is nearly enough to make Wicked: Part One soar.

Yet repeatedly, throughout the film, you get reminders of why making it bigger has not necessarily made it better. That idea certainly begins with the decision to break it into two parts in the first place, somehow thinking the pacing of a single two-hour-and-forty-minute stage production wouldn't be impacted by turning it into two two-hour-and-forty-minute movies, or that the truncated character arcs are made okay by a "To Be Continued" card. One piece of padding includes a perhaps-inevitable but nevertheless eye-rolling nod to the original Broadway production, but many of the visual decisions also contribute to the frustration. Wicked: Part One becomes almost hopelessly busy, adorning every scene with neon-colored bumblebees or flitting hummingbirds or somesuch. The melancholy of Elphaba alone on a stage lamenting her prospects in "I'm Not That Girl" is not helped by having her wander through a forest of glowing flowers that looks like an outtake from Avatar.

It would have been hard to ruin Wicked entirely—especially the first act, since it features all the best bangers from Stephen Schwartz's killer song score, including "Popular" and the trademark show-stopper "Defying Gravity." Chu also happens to be one of the few working movie directors who seems capable of handling musical material, as evidenced most recently by his adaptation of In the Heights. But here, he simply can't get out of the way of the expectation that turning Wicked into a blockbuster meant turning it into something ... else. It's hard to convey how the stagecraft required to elevate Elphaba for the Act I finale of "Defying Gravity" loses nearly everything remarkable about it when it's simply Cynthia Erivo against a greenscreen with a billowing digitally-created cape. It's kind of fitting that the Wizard of Oz is played by Jeff Goldblum, as I kept thinking about paraphrasing one of his most famous lines from another fantasy spectacle: They were so concerned about whether they could, they didn't stop to think if they should.