Mainstream Media Learned The Wrong Lessons From WICKED
WARNING: Spoilers for “Hocus Pocus” and “Hocus Pocus 2”
Yesterday I watched Hocus Pocus 2 for the first time. An avid fan of the original (I still have fantasies of playing Dani if it ever becomes a Broadway show…), I avoided all spoilers and waited to watch it on Halloween night.
My heart broke. I hated it.
Now, this is not an article bashing the film or even saying that it was “bad.” A lot of people love it – some even more than the original. And that’s great! I’m all for any work of art that provides edification and joy. And I certainly don’t feel that my interpretation is the only one. But that being said, the reasons why it failed for me I find to be endemic of fantasy storytelling in a post-Wicked era – namely that the mainstream media seems to have taken all the wrong lessons from what made Wicked (both the book and the musical) so great. And I feel like it’s time to do a deep dive.
I’ve long noticed a pattern in the media (very pronounced on Broadway) of non-artistic folks in power latching onto superficial characteristics of a successful work as the reason that work was successful and then trying to replicate it ad nauseam. Take the early 2000’s trends of jukebox musicals. Jersey Boys was a big hit when it opened on Broadway. It told the story of the wildly popular music group The Four Seasons through the use of their song catalogue. It was a great show that went on to run for years. But apparently, the main lesson a lot of producers took from it wasn’t that it was well structured or had a strong story… it was that well-known music catalogues sold shows, and thus the era of the jukebox musical was ushered in, with many in the industry (and outside of it) scratching their heads as to why almost no other jukebox show was as successful as Jersey Boys.
And in a similar fashion, mainstream media seems to have taken the singular lesson: “Bad Guy is Really the Good Guy” from the success of Wicked. Now, I love a well-done deconstructed origin story as much as the next person, but that is not the moral of Wicked. In fact, it’s the thematic complexity that makes Wicked so good. Simmons University shares Gregory Maguire’s initial idea for the Wicked novel “While living in London during the beginning of the Gulf War, he was struck by his own reaction to a newspaper headline comparing Saddam Hussein to Adolf Hitler.” Maguire says:
“I experienced a visceral reaction based on the use of that word ‘Hitler’…My sense of reason was hijacked, momentarily by a throb of panic initiated by a single word. I grew curious about how we use words to summon our strength to go to battle.”
In the New York Times, Maguire added:
“I wanted to write about the nature of evil…”
Elphaba is many things, but a misunderstood, pure innocent is not one of them. She is powerful, she is kind, she is passionate, and at the end of the day, she takes responsibility for her actions and owns them. She may not be the embodiment of total evil that The Wizard of Oz might suggest, but, importantly, in both the book and the musical, Oz is definitely a place where evil DOES exist and must be wrestled with by every character in different ways. “The nature of evil” is a powerful theme to wrestle with, and that is exactly what Wicked does.
But what the mainstream media has largely given us in a post-Wicked world is stories about how the person we thought was evil isn’t really evil at all.
Now, that’s not a problem in and of itself…when it does become a problem is when the very existence of evil seems to be wiped out of the story altogether. For years journalists, critics, and phenomenal YouTubers have analyzed (and criticized) the fact that villains seem to have flat-out gone extinct. EVERYONE is now misunderstood in a world where stakes don’t seem to exist. And just as it is problematic to try to paint good and evil in black-and-white terms, it is just as problematic to metaphorically erase them from existence.
But that’s exactly what’s happening in just about every story I see now in mass media – from adult fare where Dahmer – a look at why Jeffrey Dahmer, one of the worst serial killers in history, was really just “a misunderstood boy who had a hard life” is the most watched Netflix movie of all time, to the new pantheon of Disney films where the antagonist is “your inner demons that you just have to be brave enough to face.”
And Hocus Pocus 2 is a perfect example.
Let’s break down some structural differences between the original and the sequel.
Opening
The original film opens in 1600’s Salem with a prologue in which the first thing that happens (pretty quickly) is witch Sarah Sanderson lures a little girl (Emily) to the Sanderson home where she and her sisters Winnie and Mary literally suck the life out of her. Based on the reaction from Emily’s big brother Thackery Binx and other villagers, it’s pretty clear that this is a common occurrence. The Sanderson Sisters live in the woods and kill children. The next thing that happens is the Sisters torture Thackery and turn him (painfully) into a cat. Then, as they are about to hang for their crimes, they mock Emily and Thackery’s father (who has just seen his murdered daughter and can only assume his son has met the same fate.)
This is important. Why?
The Sisters might be charming, they might be hilarious, they might be imminently watchable, but they are dangerous, vicious, and cruel. We might love Bette Midler, Kathy Najimy, and Sarah Jessica Parker (and we absolutely do!) But if these witches are not stopped, children are literally going to die.
In the sequel, we again open in 1600s Salem in a prologue that shows the Sanderson Sisters before they became witches. But these kids are GIRL BOSSES. They might like the macabre (Winnie is delighted by the gift of a pet spider for her birthday,) but they are nothing more than STRONG WOMEN ahead of their time. Winnie’s biggest crime is telling the Reverend that she refuses to be married off at the ripe old age of sixteen. Because she’s “not like other girls” she is hated by the townspeople, and they use this most recent rebellion to try and forcibly separate her from her sisters. A creepy spider saves the day (the macabre will rescue you!), and the three girls run into the woods. There they meet the local forest witch who, while she at first wants to eat them, quickly senses Winnie’s power. She gifts her THE MOST POWERFUL SPELLBOOK ON EARTH and disappears. Winnie and her sisters use the spell book to commit the shocking and heinous crime of… setting fire to the side of the Reverend’s house to teach him a lesson about trying to repress women.
These witches absolutely do NOT need to be stopped. More power to them!
The Setup
In the original, we jump forward in time 300 years to Salem in 1993. We meet siblings – older brother Max and little sister Dani. Contrary to the relationship between Thackery and Emily, Max wants nothing to do with his little sister. They’ve recently moved from L.A. to Salem, and Max wants to be a cool high schooler. He takes his little sister for granted and doesn’t want her cramping his style. Dani is smart, inherently cool, and adores her big brother. All she wants is to spend time with him. Also in the mix is Allison – the object of Max’s crush who thinks he’s a little too sure of himself. Allison grew up in Salem and is an expert on all things Sanderson. In a final, desperate bid to look cool to his crush, Max lights the infamous Black Flame Candle (doing so, legend says, can bring the Sanderson Sisters back from the dead.) Max suddenly realizes that he’s WAY out of his depth when his action does, in fact, bring back the Sisters – who have one night to suck the lives out of as many children as they can or turn to dust at sunrise. The central thematic element quickly becomes: you need to value your family, love them, and protect them, before it’s too late. Max is about to quickly find himself in Thackery’s position (which Thackery, when: Binx, still in cat form, makes sure he knows), and he realizes that getting Dani out of his life is actually the last thing he wants.
In the sequel, we again jump ahead in time, now to 2022. We meet three teenage female friends (whose names I can’t remember) who have started drifting apart over the past four months when one of them (the Mayor’s daughter) got a boyfriend. Our Main Girl is a little witchy (of the Wiccan variety), and her birthday happens to be on Halloween. The girls have traditionally gathered every Halloween to perform some sort of ritual in the forest…the purpose of which isn’t clear. But this year Mayor’s Daughter is having a party at her house with her boyfriend (her dad just CAN’T find out.) The Sanderson House is now a magic (again, more Wiccan) shop. Main Girl and her friend stop by to get some things for their ritual. The store owner gives them a special candle for the occasion (it’s her sixteenth birthday.) They perform the ritual, the candle turns out to be a new Black Flame Candle, and the Witches show up again.
Some interesting items of note:
- The Sisters have no specific goal when they return. They quickly dismiss the idea of sucking the lives out of children in favor of performing the Forbidden Spell that will grant them unlimited power. This will apparently erase the need to suck the lives out of children as well as grant them the power to stay on earth forever – no Black Flame Candle needed.
- There are no children in this story. None. The Witches threaten the teens, but it’s more out of annoyance than any diabolical motives. After all, we’re now dealing with young adults, one of which, surprise, surprise, is about to discover that she is a witch herself.
- Even the “stakes” aren’t really stakes…One of the ingredients the Witches need for their potion is the blood of an enemy. Discovering the Mayor is a direct descendent of the awful Reverend, they quickly decide they need some of his blood. Most of the drama involves them trying to get the Mayor, and then kidnapping his daughter. But when the moment to take the blood comes, they lightly scratch her, get a drop…and that’s it. No one’s in danger of dying in this story.
The End
In the original, after a bunch of twists and turns the Witches have brewed the life-sucking potion, have kidnapped Dani, and are about to murder her in a graveyard. Max manages to get the potion and, given the choice to either give Winnie the potion or watch Dani be thrown to her death, he drinks the potion himself – sacrificing his life to save Dani. Winnie’s last line in the film is: “What a fool to give up thy life for thy sisters’.” Winnie then proceeds to start sucking the life out of Max (not making any attempt to share with Sarah and Mary – keep in mind, if they don’t suck some life force they will turn to dust…) but Max, Allison, and Dani have delayed the Witches just long enough that the sun starts to rise, and they are defeated. Binx is finally able to die and be reunited with Emily, and Dani and Max have repaired their relationship.
In the sequel…against the wishes of her spell book (yes, her spell book that’s bound in human skin and was given to her by the devil, who has eagerly helped her commit numerous atrocities and murder how many children decides that doing an “all-powerful spell” that has the side effect of taking what you most love (in this case Winnie’s sisters) is that step too far…) Winnie casts the spell and becomes all-powerful. But our Main Girl, who has now learned the lesson that “power must be shared” now has the loyalty of the “I was really good all along” book, and warns Winnie that she’s about to lose her sisters – which she does. Then Winnie gets a monologue about how she would give up all her power to have her sisters back, everyone gets kind of weepy, and Main Girl casts a spell to reunite all the sisters. The movie ends with the three friends reunited and walking away from camera a la the Sandersons…only they’re going to be “good” witches, because they learned the power of…sharing?
Whereas the original was a fun but powerful tale about the importance of love and family in the face of selfishness and evil (Winnie is literally willing to sacrifice immortality to get revenge on a child who called her “ugly,” and she doesn’t care if her sisters are sacrificed along the way) the sequel is a story about how women are really girl bosses and are misunderstood, and no one is really bad, they have to be reminded about what’s really important?
There is no evil in Hocus Pocus 2. There is no antagonist. There is nothing at stake. Frankly, it felt like the Salem of this movie would have been a lot better off if Winnie were allowed to reign supreme.
And basically the same can be said for the majority of similar genre movies over the past several years.
Take The School For Good and Evil. I haven’t read the book, so I’m just going off the movie, but the basic premise is there is a school that trains all the heroes and villains of literature. Two best friends are taken there – the “princessy” one dropped, SHOCK! in the school for evil, the “bad” one in the school for good. The ultimate point is that no one is all evil or all good, and we need to embrace both sides of ourself.
But in this universe, “evil” seems to be a stand-in word for “confident, determined and powerful.” Never mind that the students in the school for evil gleefully talk about murdering people when they graduate, and even seriously attempt to murder each other, they are still framed as the “misunderstood misfits.” There is even a baffling twist when the real mastermind behind the dark plot within the story is called out for being “true evil” (his plot involves him basically just being in charge of everything.) What? Murdering your peers isn’t evil as long as you’re a misunderstood girl boss? But when you need a plot…that’s suddenly evil?
In Cruella, the live-action 101 Dalmatians prequel from Cruella’s point of view, Cruella is, once again, a misunderstood girl boss who actually loves dogs. It literally ignores the fact that the plot of 101 Dalmatians is centered on her wanting to kill and skin puppies to make a coat.
In Maleficent, the titular character spends most of the story wishing she could take back the curse she placed on Aurora as punishment for the man who metaphorically…raped her? What happened to the self-proclaimed “mistress of all evil” who joyfully called upon “all the powers of hell?” The thing that made Maguire’s Wicked so fascinating is it never attempted to say that Elphaba flat out didn’t do something she had clearly done in The Wizard of Oz. It provided a complex and often murky (in the best way) context and allowed us to examine the question “Are people born evil? Achieve evil? Or have evil thrust upon them?”
But this trend is just the latest in a long line of superficial readings of successful stories in the interest of “replicating success.” Look at the (generally speaking) downfall in the quality of the Star Wars movies, most of which are trying to replicate the trappings of a formula. Look at the long line of Broadway shows based on nostalgic properties that don’t seem to understand what made the original so great in the first place… one questions how many shows or movies are actually made these days because of a creative spark, or a thematic question the author wanted to explore. If you’re trying to replicate success, at least know what actually made that thing work.
And we need to stop giving easy platitudes in the name of being “relevant.” I believe we need stories of “strong” women – but a misunderstood troublemaker does not a strong woman make. We don’t need easy morals, we need stories with deeper truths. The original Hocus Pocus was a warning in the best way – the Sanderson Sisters were a metaphor for what would happen to Max (or any of us) if he kept on the path of being selfish and egotistical. He was at an age where such things were still a kind of cute developmental phase, but taken to an extreme they are destructive and diabolical. It’s one thing to humiliate your sister because you don’t want to be embarrassed going trick or treating with her (a bad thing, but a sadly common and somewhat understandable one…) it’s another to step on your siblings and kill children so you can stay young, beautiful and powerful…but both exist on the same road. In the remake, the Sanderson Sisters, Winnie in particular, have been reduced to bratty, entertaining children on a playground, who really only need a stern warning to have a good cry and feel bad. But that’s not always the way life works, and to reduce everyone to just a “misunderstood” not really bad guy, is to do a disservice to what humanity is capable of. It also seriously devalues the experiences of those who have experienced true horror and evil in their lives. After all, shouldn’t they “understand” and get over it? Because in the universes of the stories we’re being told, evil isn’t really a thing. No, it’s not good to say that evil is something easily put in a box or a singular person or thing (we’ve all seen the disasters that can lead to,) but neither is it good to say that evil doesn’t really exist.
This is why dramaturgy, text analysis, theme, and structure are important. This is why understanding the story is important – and most of all, as theater artists, knowing what you want to communicate and how to execute that effectively.
I’ll take the horror of a Hocus Pocus world over the sterile world of Hocus Pocus 2 any day.