it appeared, and as quickly vanished.

A word came into my head, referring to this shifting and changing, these erasures that were now obvious--it appeared, and as quickly vanished. Louise Gluck, A Summer Garden

[theseerasures]

MOMENT 6: the reconciliation. Fiyero gets fed up enough to explicitly point out Elphaba's moral superiority compared to the two of them, though he doesn't mention her by name. as he stalks away, Glinda makes one more effort to paint them as a united front, this time in missing Elphaba (she doesn't say her name either). Fiyero reacts derisively until Glinda points out if Elphaba hasn't been found by now she does not want to be found. this point seems to wound her as much as it was meant to wound him, but it does the trick: Fiyero balks and admits Glinda is right, gesturing helplessly before he goes back to Glinda and comforts her.

i distinctly remember saying to Leah, when we watched this for the first time: "oh, they have NEVER talked about this." and i stand by that instinctive reading tbh, though time and repeated viewings have helped sharpen what exactly "this" is that Glinda and Fiyero have never talked about.

Elphaba is not named for the entirety of Act II's opening, though the scene is about her from pretty much every angle (the first person who refers to Elphaba by name in Act 2 is Nessa, when she's telling Elphaba to shut up, which is certainly...something). during the public facing moments it underscores the core theme of the show: by this point there is no more Elphaba, only the Wicked Witch of the West.

but Glinda and Fiyero don't mention her by name either, even though Fiyero outright rejected the "Wicked Witch" moniker to Morrible's face earlier, and even with their relationship with each other at stake here. i honestly don't know what the original intent was behind this choice: Fiyero is being weird about Elphaba because of emotional adultery or whatever, and Glinda is...being weird in the same way because she knows about it too?? and is?? afraid to bring it up?? why are we in Marriage Story when three minutes ago these characters were fighting with their boss, a seventy year old woman in clown drag

it's only due to the iterative tendency of live theatre that this part of the book (MANY parts of the book, lbr) evolved into something less all-over-the-place. any semblance of emotional restraint was jettisoned before Norbie and Cheno even left; the love triangle stayed, but changed its tone so that by the time the OBC's successors hit their stride the dynamic wasn't so much infidelity and ~fighting over a man as it was equally wounding breaches of trust for every relationship permutation.

one of the results of this cuddlier interpretation where everyone loves everyone and they're all just having a really hard time right now uwu is the approach to this part of TG has (for the tragically few Gliyeros who care at least) been flipped on its head. Glinda and Fiyero no longer talk weirdly and excessively about their friend from college because suddenly they're repressed WASPs in a motherthriller; Glinda and Fiyero talk weirdly and excessively about Elphaba because they are weird and excessive people who never shut the fuck up, and Elphaba's kind of an important person in both their public and personal lives. the stilted fumbling stems from having talked about this topic to death--what Elphaba would do, where she might be, what she would think--over the course of five years, and both of them are somewhat aware of this even as they cannot help but bring her up again and again (that's love, bitch).

you can see this so clearly with Katie and Ryan, where Glinda barely even lets Fiyero finish his "you KNOW who could, and who has!" before jumping in with her rebuttal. for the two of them it's an old and worn refrain: Elphaba would do something different. Elphaba isn't here, and we have to move on. the problem this read always runs into, though, is where the conversation goes from here, because the stakes still have to ramp up. it has to go from just one of the many, many fights the two of them have had over the past five years to The Fight that matters. for Glinda and Fiyero the people, it's their umpteenth time circling the wagons; for Glinda and Fiyero, fictional characters we are watching onstage, it is the last time they ever talk about Elphaba with each other.

i've talked about TG simultaneously showcasing and dismantling the status quo, but to discuss it from the perspective of story structure makes it sound like the dismantling occurs due to like, a conspiracy of impersonal circumstance when the actual forces driving these tectonic shifts are, as is appropriate for a tragedy, the characters themselves. so we have here another instance where Katie and Ryan are exceptional because they are exemplary: they telegraph the exact point Glinda ups the ante and escalates the conversation to an area neither of them have been willing to touch before this. she doesn't want to be found. they've been talking about Elphaba nonstop, conjuring her presence, projecting her co-existence with them in the future, because the thing neither of them can bear to think about is the alternative.

and to be clear, the alternative is not JUST that Elphaba hates them 5eva now and "doesn't want to be found." that might have been the worst thing Glinda and Fiyero were capable of imagining in Act 1, but not anymore. Glinda and Fiyero both call Elphaba by name for the first time in this act after Wonderful, and what Glinda says specifically upon seeing her best friend is Elphie? oh, thank Oz you're alive. i don't think it's a stretch to imagine that Glinda and Fiyero have learned a lot about the fragility of life during the act break years. they'd been trying to ward that idea away from Elphaba: the one they think of as larger than life, the one they know would give her life for a greater calling, the one whom neither has seen for five years. she doesn't want to be found is the gentlest, most timid way Glinda could have phrased it, but--as Ryan's reaction demonstrates--it sends Fiyero reeling anyway, because he understands the implication. that Elphaba cannot be found. that she is irretrievable, dead, because another thing both of them learned during the act break is fascism does not need its enemy to live, to be real, to sustain itself.

this is what they've never talked about; the possibility both knew and feared so much that giving voice to it felt like sacrilege. but Glinda brings it up now, finally, and Fiyero takes heed in much the same way Glinda had at you can't leave because you can't resist this. all they have for each other now is the pain which comes with truth and the truth which comes with pain. it's a pain that cuts both ways, which brings us back to Katie's Glinda, and the unique and acute tragedy of her portrayal. she viscerally feels the fallout of her own actions every single time, yet in the moment she never learns. in the moment, Glinda never backs down. Glinda will always get the last word. here, she stands firm when she can't see Fiyero's face, but the moment he turns around--before he even admits she's right--she is already shaking her head, trying to take it back.

but she can't take it back. a significant but overlooked reason why Katie's TG always hits so hard is in the runway she meticulously builds for it beforehand, so by the time she returns to that podium we implicitly understand this is just what Glinda does. every time she just has to win, no matter the cost, and every time reckoning with the wreckage of her victory fills her with shame and regret. earlier on during her tenure this was played more like a compulsion--like Glinda literally couldn't help herself--but now as a seasoned performer the approach is more stark: it's no longer that Glinda doesn't mean the horrible things she says and does. it's that Glinda doesn't WANT to mean them, but she does anyway.

this is also what makes Katie's Glinda still feel like Glinda, as opposed to just like, a nice popular girl misunderstood in her own right. because yes, Glinda is very sensitive to the feelings of everyone around her, but she is always more sensitive to her own feelings and self-concept. if she sees a way to make herself and everyone happy she will do her utmost to make that happen; if she doesn't see a way--or if there's no time for her to find one--she defaults to what she wants in the moment every time, other people's feelings be damned, her own future feelings be damned. the possibility that Elphaba is irretrievable terrifies and devastates her just as much as it does Fiyero, but in the moment it doesn't matter. in the moment it only matters that Fiyero was leaving, just as Elphaba had, and the only way to keep him with her was to crush the hope for reunion both of them hold so dearly.

and it works. Glinda always gets what she wants, forever, and there is never any giving it back. there is never anything she can take back, any bridge she can uncross, any harm she can undo--nothing which can be perfectly restored to what it had been. in the end there is only Glinda, the things she thought she wanted, the things she ruined to get them. and she loves all of it still; enough to continue living with them, to help them move forward. but first, she does the only thing anyone can do with the past, which is recount it: painfully, truthfully, in the hope this time she will finally learn.

[theseerasures]

MOMENT 5: the Fight(tm). Fiyero clenches his tiny impotent fists before verbally expressing his helpless rage. Glinda reminds him they're dancing in this cage together and briefly gets lost in the weeds of her own powerlessness and self-loathing. Fiyero grounds her back in reality, tries to suggest they at least wash their hands of this whole thing, but Glinda refuses. Popular tinkles plaintively in the background as Glinda claims she has a duty to the people and can't leave, to which Fiyero retorts that she won't leave because she can't resist "this." Glinda reels at the accusation but admits he's right.

i'll say upfront that in general there's not much to take away from this segment beyond what i've brought up already--make Glinda and Fiyero's relationship recognizable as a relationship (however dysfunctional), gesture toward how the larger world works now after the timeskip, etc--but i wanna talk about it anyway, because when i complain about TGs feeling like conveyor belts moving inexorably toward Glinda's solo this is usually what i'm thinking of. i've spoken before about the rise of bland functional Fiyeros, but i haven't really touched on the wider phenomenon related to it of Gliyeros which only exist to service Fiyeraba (or Gelphie) endgame. again it's logic i can follow: Glinda and Fiyero DON'T end up together, the show telegraphs it so strongly no one watching Wicked is going to genuinely root for them, so it feels pointless to put any effort into this stopgap couple.

which: if your approach to narrative is to optimize it to the point of creative sterility, sure! i guess it would be pretty fucking pointless, but in that case idk why you're bothering with Wicked or narrative in the first place. "willing suspension of disbelief" isn't just about practical considerations; it encompasses emotional credulity as well. yes, we all know Glinda and Fiyero don't stay together in the same way we all know we're watching a staged musical at the Gershwin and not actual historical events, but Glinda and Fiyero don't; nor do they know how inconsequential their relationship is in the story of Wicked. it is therefore the jobs of their actors to inhabit the characters (to act, even!!!!) powerfully enough that the audience stops fussing over bad faith efficiency considerations and get invested in the emotions of the present, but fewer and fewer of them do as the years progress. in fact, a depressingly outsized reason why i consider Katie and Ryan exemplary here is because they refuse to do this dumb imaginary math and play the scene for what it is.

so what, exactly, is this scene? well. excepting their brief non-exchange at the cornfields, this is the only time Glinda and Fiyero have anything approaching an honest conversation with each other. every other time they're onstage together there exists some kind of knowledge gap. even this conversation starts heading that way by the end, but before that the script forces them to have a glorious, horrifying minute of Mutually Assured Destruction Honesty. Thank Goodness tees up the Act Two status quo and immediately starts knocking it down; Glinda and Fiyero's argument does the same for Glinda and Fiyero.

the way in which this disaster specifically unfolds is up to how the actors have played their characters up to this point. with Katie and Ryan of course it's Pathetic Hot Mess Central: he's this bitchy twink of a bottom and she, sadly, does not hate fighting more than she loves winning, so they start going at each other like trapped feral cats, and then--not even ten seconds later--everything devolves to their Glinda-and-Fiyero default, which is, um. the same trapped feral cats but now they're grooming each other in some very fated effort to self-soothe

it's not that Fiyero forgets he and Glinda aren't actually in the same position power-wise; he definitely hasn't forgiven her for the engagement bullshit, but as soon as Glinda starts with her traumatized thousand-yard stare he just cannot bring himself to escalate this further, going instead right back to offering tactile and verbal assurance. then what are we doing here? it's we again. of course Glinda is just as miserable. they're a team. of course he'll take her with him when they get out of here--

then Glinda delivers the coup de grace. i can't leave now. not we. it's the dance Glinda does with everyone, every time: she's just like you, and you're in this together, except she's not either of those really. except the idea that she isn't somehow separate and distinct--special, better, more--compared to everybody else is unbearable. if she'd said we can't leave now the argument might have gone differently, but it would never occur to any Glinda to say that. there's no room in her world for anybody else.

this moment is, imo, one of the parts where you can tell just how much of the book was influenced by Cheno's specific approach to Glinda, because as written out on the page the dialogue skews pretty blatantly toward Glinda only seeing Fiyero as an extension of herself. she tells Fiyero she also hates what everyone's saying about Elphaba to placate but also, implicitly, to discipline: she hates it just as much, but she can keep her cool. the minute Fiyero tests their supposed solidarity she puts him in his place and reminds him she's actually the only one who matters here. i have an immense soft spot for this original spin tbh, especially since Norbie does such a good job of calling Glinda's bluff right after, but it is SO HARD to walk that tightrope. the alternative approach most Glindas following Cheno go for is one where i can't leave now is...kinda just what slips out, carried by the momentum of their argument. it still requires good chemistry and mindful setup, but you're not locking Glinda and Fiyero into as set characterizations as the original.

Katie has taken this approach in the past with other more hotheaded Fiyeros, but the issue here is Ryan kinda already foreclosed that possibility. Fiyero has just intuitively given Glinda what she needs most--empathy, some semblance of grace--and this Glinda knows and appreciates it deeply. so she in turn is going to give Fiyero what he is owed, what every Fiyero shows up needing: to be taken seriously. to be told the truth. (no, you're not; or you wouldn't be so unhappy.) she says i can't leave now, and she means it. but she doesn't mean it in the way Cheno's Glinda did, where it's this oh, how silly of Fiyero to forget everything is about Glinda; to Katie's Glinda, i can't leave now when people are looking to me to raise their spirits is just...true. whether she likes it or not, it's immovable fact. there's something very mundanely relatable about it, because Glinda's protest echoes the protests of many people who just graduated from college and cannot imagine any world beyond their first deeply toxic job. what is she supposed to do? quit??? find a NEW job?? unpossible. it's Fascist Disneyland forever

that people are "looking to her"--well, that really hammers home how Glinda is middle managing her own abuse and exploitation, doesn't it? she is more powerful than the average hapless Ozian, she is more powerful than Fiyero, and there's, y'know, that old adage about power and responsibility. people need Glinda--to assure them there's still a status quo, that comfort and prosperity remain possible--and when you're needed you can't take risks. the more aware you are of the impact you could have on other people, the easier it is to be a coward. people are looking to Glinda; she wouldn't dare refuse. not when she's always been so attentive to the feelings of others. not when her job for the past five years has been to look people in the eye, and validate their feelings (as terrifying as terror is), and lifting them up. she is doing something that matters. she's the ONLY one who can do this, for the good of everyone--

selflessness slips frictionlessly back into self-obsession. you can't leave, Fiyero snaps, because you can't resist this! it's imprecise and harshly unfair and Glinda cannot bring herself to argue back, because this is who Glinda and Fiyero are now, five years after they loved Elphaba and then lost her. this is how far they've traveled from you're perfect/you're perfect: now they tell each other the truth. now they are the only people in the world they trust will say the truth, even when it's ugly--especially when it's ugly. that's only fair, isn't it? everything beautiful in their world is a lie. it's the only thing they have for each other these days, and it hurts more often than not, but the truth freely given still counts for something between the two of them.

it counts. it matters. at least, at least; they are in this together.

[theseerasures]

MOMENT 4: Morrible editorializes too close to the sun as she starts talking about Elphaba. Glinda reacts with offended shock and instinctive denial; Fiyero does the same once he cottons on that this hadn't been in the copy.

Leah and i play a game called "how much of the copy did Glinda read?" every time we watch this bit. it's a nice microcosm of what each Glinda is about: how much does she know? and how much does she care? answers have wildly varied throughout the years, going from "she absolutely read and approved all of it, including the upcoming audience participation" to "Glinda has never read once in her life," and once again it's not so much about where each Glinda falls on the spectrum as it is how clearly Glinda's actress can articulate her placement.

like many other things it was with Katie that i first started paying attention here, but even now with so much more data her version still stands out. Glinda balks when Morrible launches into her second verse slander, and on a superficial level this just feels like the most obvious choice. she can't exactly react sooner given her scripted defense to Fiyero when Morrible was singing her praises, after all, but Katie's Glinda always reacts with disbelief rather than a more generalized discomfort. this is not about her having second thoughts re: Elphaba's smear campaign now that she hears the words out loud. Glinda had no idea Morrible was going to pull this, and the way Ryan plays the moment--holding back Fiyero's response until he notices Glinda getting upset--bolsters that impression.

so this is a good working example of how clearly a Glinda can communicate her position and feelings within the current regime, but the additional layer here is how congruous this reaction feels based on what the audience already knows about Glinda from Act One. this mix of hurt betrayal and outrage wouldn't make sense for most other Glindas, but it makes perfect sense for KATIE'S Glinda, an inquisitive neurotic incapable of letting anything go. it doesn't matter how intimidated she feels. remember well, that's not fair. i told you a really good one? this is a Glinda who feels entitled to know every fine detail to spark her interest, and compulsively insists on that entitlement, against all sense and threats of harm.

establishing continuity between acts is tricky but essential for Glindas in TG. the second half of the song is her lamentation over getting everything she thought she wanted, which means she has to still be recognizable as the person who wanted those things. Act Two opens with a changed Oz and a changed Glinda; the peons onstage seems to take it in stride as the natural order, and how things have always been, but we, the audience, get a privileged peek behind the curtain. like Fiyero, like eventually Elphaba, we get to see the parts which are performance, the parts of Glinda which remain the same.

it's not always an entirely comforting view, which brings us back to this Glinda, reacting in this manner at this particular moment. Katie has had roughly the same approach to this scene throughout her tenure, but--unlike in the Wizard's chamber--over the years she's only gotten less and less subtle about Glinda's misgivings. it's a pretty disquieting contrast tbh; Glinda had happily performed compliance five years ago, when noncompliance could have drastically altered the story and her place in it, so why is she worse at it now? Morrible needs neither permssion nor forgiveness from Glinda to do whatever she wants. is Glinda protesting because she's secure in her powerlessness and knows nothing she says matters? or, if she does expect to get her way, if she has eked out some semblance of agency through blithe obstinate disregard of how reality works, why is THIS where she takes a stand? excusing fascism but drawing the line at people keeping things from her, at people slandering Elphaba's name, is at once so incredibly Glinda and so incredibly fucked up. agency cuts both ways.

and you can't unsee what's behind the curtain. yes, she's the same Glinda you left at the end of Act One. yes, she's the same Glinda you can't help but adore.

yes, this is the Oz she helped to shape.

[theseerasures]

KPop Demon Hunters AU where Huntr/x do something very mundanely stressful like, idk, go to a high school reunion

they have to catch up with all their non-friends from then; obviously they can't say anything REAL about what they've been doing and so make do with pretending to have done nothing in the intervening years

except one of them gets so fed up with their normie schoolmates being snooty she forgets about The Greater Good and blurts out a lie which seems outrageous but is also very banal and (probably???) impossible to factcheck, like maybe the lie is Huntr/x invented an everyday office item

dunno why but i think it has potential. you could call it Rumi and Mira

...and Zoey!

[theseerasures]

MOMENT 3: Morrible's first verse. Fiyero reorients himself back to playing supportive spouse. Glinda watches Morrible like a hawk, only relaxing when it seems they'll stick to the script after all. Fiyero catches the heavy editorializing halfway through but, seeing Glinda's non-reaction, settles for a sotto voce protest after Morrible pauses for breath.

i remember being caught off guard when i first watched this. Ryan's Fiyero is such an obstinate fuckboy when things don't go his way; he is among the least impressed and most angry Fiyeros during the "surprised?" "yes!" exchange right before this. but he pulls himself back together remarkably quickly, to the point he's returned to nodding "yes Glinda is the greatest actually" as Morrible launches into her speech.

which is the part that stands out most: every Fiyero has to calm down because the script says so, but most Fiyeros play it either like they've gone back to factory neutral or like they're barely restraining themselves from throwing a confused tantrum. in both cases the implication is they're still too floored by the engagement to support Glinda anymore, and i expected Ryan's Fiyero to similarly hold a grudge. he has perfectly legitimate reasons to do so--what happened was a SERIOUS breech of trust--but he...doesn't. his calming down process doesn't involve getting some space from Glinda but going right back to Glinda-and-Fiyero, the perfect team.

and like. obviously this is because Glinda called him "handsome" and he's so chuffed that being mad at her is impossible, but damn if it doesn't give me feelings anyway. he was so upset when the engagement was sprung on him, but he has enough faith in Glinda that he's willing to wait and hear her out, and in the meantime he's going to keep taking her cue in their united front against Morrible. this degree of instinctual trust speaks volumes about how much comfortable intimacy they have with each other, and how fraught their lives have been in the past five years. Glinda and Fiyero have each other's backs because they know and love each other; Glinda and Fiyero have each other's backs because they know they can't rely on anybody else.

i'm not sure if anything can be extrapolated here about how TGs should work in general. most Fiyero-Glinda dynamics during Thank Goodness play out like a slow motion car crash, where Fiyero's belief in Glinda gets eroded verse by verse. which is perfectly fine; that's the way it was intended to play out, and as i said before i count it as a win any time Glinda and Fiyero have a legible relationship at all. that Ryan and Katie were so unique and textured with it is icing on the cake. really exquisite icing, mind: to make the audience believe for a moment that even Glinda and Fiyero might make it work.

[theseerasures]

MOMENT 2: "Frustrating!" Fiyero declares to Morrible's question, catching Glinda's eye as he keeps talking. Glinda nods in affirmation before an exasperated Morrible derails him by announcing the engagement. Glinda responds with ecstatic shock, while Fiyero does a "haha big joke" laugh before double taking at the congratulotions banner.

this point kind of feeds into the first by highlighting that PR has been Fiyero's job (at least part-time) for the past five years, too. Ryan does a good job of showing that it has been five years; you expect Glinda to be polished no matter what, but FIYERO being this well trained is something else. the sulky little face he makes right after Morrible interrupts him is just like...he's used to this. this is typical Madame. (Nancy's fed up look right after "frustrating!" implies she's used to him too.) it's a pretty rare take on Fiyero in TG, and i don't think it's mandatory--most Fiyeros unknowingly or knowingly contrast with Glinda and Morrible on the podium by being less smooth and practiced, and i've liked many of them.

this version does feel pretty special though, because it subtly underscores what Glinda and Fiyero's relationship has been like during the act break. Fiyero had been instinctively attuned to Galinda's feelings as early as the Ozdust, and now that's matured into them...well. working in tandem. he's clearly been doing enough of this stuff with her to know the workings; he checks in as she moves aside so he can take over, and she trusts him enough to back him even though his comment was clearly not scripted. they're a team.

once again i don't think every Glinda and Fiyero need to have this precise dynamic at Act Two's outset. tbh it's better if they don't; even Katie and Ryan are kinda straining credulity here by the time of the surprise engagement drop, because i'm left wondering what could compel Glinda to both a) knowingly acquiesce to the entrapment, and b) hide it from Fiyero for any amount of time. did Morrible just slide the ring on her finger five minutes before they went on and tell Glinda not to worry about it? anyway. for a lot of TGs i have no sense of what Fiyero and Glinda's relationship has been like for the past five years, or why either of them wanted to stay together that entire time. and i do think it's mandatory that the show answers these two questions, because Fiyero's outburst later in the number doesn't mean as much when we don't know what status quo he's disturbing. he has to be present enough that we see why Glinda both depends on his presence and takes it for granted, so it's all the more devastating when he's not present anymore.

[theseerasures]

MOMENT 1: Ozians sing "we couldn't be happier/thank goodness" at Madame Morrible's encouragment. Fiyero smiles down at the crowd while Glinda ducks in slightly to make the face a service worker makes right before she greets the customer who came in as she was about to close

tbh it just makes me giggle, but i also think this tiny choice puts the right foot forward in establishing the function of Thank Goodness within and outside of the text. very often the song is treated as a Glinda solo where she gets to check in with her own feels, but Thank Goodness, by virtue of being the Act Two opener, has to do a lot more than that. we need to catch the audience up on what's happened and at the same time make the case that THIS particular scene and moment is our best re-entry to all the drama. Thank Goodness is a social, transitional number. everyone on stage is doing something, and the thing Glinda is doing is working.

it gets lost in the fantasy totalitarianism, but Glinda and Fiyero in Act Two are, fundamentally, young adults with jobs. Fiyero even gets an explicit promotion during this number. i enjoy ragging on Glinda for being an influencer, but in reality her role in Oz has way too much structure. Glinda's work is more like the work of Disney cast members, or public speakers, or propagandists, or Argentine First Ladies. she is performing emotional labor in the traditional sense in exchange for compensation. i have no idea what that compensation IS because it's probably not an actual salary--dresses? cunty hats? days of continued existence?--but it's coming from an institution outside of herself.

and thinking of her this way--girlemployee!Glinda, as opposed to girlboss!Glinda or hostage!Glinda--eases the emotional peaks and troughs she goes through in the song, and grounds them in something very recognizable. i've never been arrested for abetting a terrorist and impressed into becoming a facist regime's figurehead, but i HAVE worked at jobs where i have to perform a heightened version of myself and always be on. that Glinda is doing this at such a horrifying scale highlights how insidious and banal becoming complicit in authoritarianism can be, but the scope doesn't change the very mundane core of it. Glinda is working. she's very good at her job. it's the job she always wanted to have, and she might love it even now, but it's a job. it's work. she's allowed to have ambivalent feelings about it and she's allowed to find it draining...

so long as she gets over it before anyone sees. that IS her job.

[theseerasures]

i'd planned to dive straight in for Act Two (almost like a real liveblog!) but less than a minute into Thank Goodness and my thoughts have already spooled toward infinity, so. here are some prefatory notes to help myself organize the incoming mess:

Thank Goodness is my favorite song in Wicked. this should make everyone feel very bad for it, because anything i consider "a fave" is doomed to ceaseless critique. when i see the number done well it's the highlight of the show and makes me feel hitherto unknown emotions, but i also almost never think Thank Goodness is done well. part of this absolutely has to do with my unreasonable idiosyncratic demands, but a not-insignificant portion stems from Thank Goodness being the most finicky song in Wicked.

even now i have a better sense of what makes Thank Goodness fail than what makes it succeed. this particular TG succeeds, but i have trouble pinpointing why--okay, that's not entirely true. one major reason this performance succeeds is Katie Rose Clarke, who is the best most consistent Thank Goodness performer. that's not actually helpful feedback tho, because the years have hammered in how trying to Do It Like Katie is a) so much work, and b) not actually possible.

so instead i'm going to treat this TG like a positive working example--reverse engineering the interesting moments to see what broad theoretical ideas (if any) make a Thank Goodness good.

...and by "interesting moments" i mean "all of them. all the moments." this is gonna take a minute, strap in

[theseerasures]

when people talk about Wicked's themes what gets most commonly brought up is the classic "ignorance breeds hatred" thing. you know: the people of Oz call Elphaba wicked because she's strange and they don't know her and it's very lamentable because if they'd just taken the time to understand her life and feelings they wouldn't have been such persecuting cunts

which is certainly true, and it's a reading encouraged both by the show's metatextual relationship with Wizard of Oz and the way Glinda frames the story. the versions of Wicked that really resonate with me, though, are the ones that complicate the relationship between understanding and respect. the best Gelphies to my mind don't know each other very well, even by the end. in fact, what makes the relationship so tragic is how they assume that because they love each other they must have reached some kind of total understanding and agreement. but that's...just not how it works. understanding isn't something you can take for granted because you've attained love, and love doesn't automatically follow once you have understanding. they are interdependent, but ultimately separate, choices, and expanding this idea outward offers a more pessimistic but truer takeaway on how the world works. ignorance isn't the only reason for discrimination, and knowledge doesn't automatically lead to tolerance.

it's not a total bummer either, because the fact Gelphie never achieve complete understanding or agreement doesn't undermine the love they have for each other, or how much they changed because of that love. Gelphie is a tragedy because they could have worked in tandem and come to terms if only circumstances had been different, but Gelphie also defies that same tragedy because they loved each other all the while, circumstances be damned. that's something THEY chose, and kept choosing.

it almost feels like a dare. what if you couldn't identify with the monster? could you love her anyway?

[theseerasures]

fellas is it gay to sob in unison with your bestie as you clutch desperately at each other while saying goodbye

[theseerasures]

this whole sequence is eight bars (the first two of which have no vocals) but somehow contains enough meaning and emotion to fill a seven layer dip

Katie's Glinda always looks at Laurel's Elphaba with such ambivalence whenever Elphaba isn't paying attention. it started all the way during Room Assignments after Elphaba's magical outburst. there's curiosity and wonder, but there's also caution; even now there is caution. she can't understand Elphaba, which is scary. she loves Elphaba despite--or even because--not understanding her, which is even scarier.

but Elphaba catches her looking, just as she had during Popular. back then Galinda had been able to transform her wariness into awe: why, Miss Elphaba, look at you. but too much has happened, and she is too overwhelmed, to do the same thing here.

the only thing she can muster is a headshake. a denial. earlier she'd told Elphaba: don't be afraid. now she says i'm not afraid. not of you. it's a lie, but it's the lie Elphaba has needed to hear all her life--that she is not frightening.

and she's Glinda now so obviously Katie has to hit herself and rip her cuticles to shreds

Laurel!Elphaba's little faltering half step backwards as Glinda starts singing is just like. some part of her really believed they would be leaving together! that's how strong her belief in Glinda was. she'd let Glinda dither by putting on the cloak, and you get the sense that she would have stayed for as long as Glinda kept arguing with her, because she could keep arguing back and then Glinda would finally be convinced

but Glinda isn't arguing anymore. she's already convinced, so she shakes her head again. Glinda has decided this fight is over, and she will have the last word. i'm not coming. you can't talk me into this. she can't bear to say it out loud, but Elphaba is at least owed a gesture. a refusal.

which Elphaba accepts with gentle grace: you too. Glinda's decision is one she can neither understand nor abide, but in this moment she is so concerned for her best and only friend she wishes, fleetingly and irrationally, that she could be wrong and Glinda right. anything, really, to wipe the shame and misery from Glinda's face.

and to this extension of care Glinda can only shake her head for a third. a refusal; a denial. Elphaba shouldn't have to worry about her right now. if Elphaba needs to leave--and she does--then Glinda won't be the anchor dragging her down. it's the least she can do. it's the ONLY thing she can do. don't worry about me, Elphaba; i'll be fine. safe journey.

a denial; a refusal. i hope it brings you bliss, Elphaba offers, loving Glinda so much she's willing to bend her own sense of right and wrong. Glinda shakes her head, loving Elphaba too much in turn to accept this concession. she won't win this fight if this is where it leaves them. what are you talking about? you're leaving me. i'm letting you go. i won't be happy again; not like i was with you.

[theseerasures]

kudos to Laurel Harris for actually trembling when Glinda says "you're trembling"

like i don't think it should be a requirement or anything; the way most Glindas--Katie included--read that line it's clear they're just scrambling to say anything that would avoid having to give Elphie a flat out "no." still nice to see sometimes anyway

[theseerasures]

i guess it really is an Ozdust reprise bc once again i can't think of a way to talk about this sequence except to walk through bit by bit

but no really: i think the most easily coherent way to bring out the tragedy of this scene is to highlight how Gelphie took away fundamentally different lessons from the Ozdust, and it just never came to light until now

for Elphaba it truly is that she was changed for good, despite the Ozdust happening while we're only a third into the show. even the least jaded Elphabas come in pretty convinced that no one will ever accept her, but then Galinda just...makes it happen during a 45 second dance break. it's why she's willing to hear Galinda out during Popular--Galinda's way WORKS, even if it only works for Galinda. it's why the pronoun changes during the unlimited motif here; Elphaba really believes that she and Glinda can change the world together. to her perspective, they already have.

but--as Katie's overwhelmed/incredulous expression shows--that's not what happened for Glinda at ALL. what happened at the Ozdust, for Glinda, is that she had done a Bad Thing. this made another person feel awful; equally importantly, it had made GALINDA feel awful, so she had to fix it even though it was maybe the most terrifying thing she'd ever done. she's glad she did it because it made her a better person and she and Elphie are friends now, but she never wants to do that again. the reason it's so important to teach Elphaba about Popular is so they can avoid anything like it in the future. the idea that they could do a bigger, scarier version of the Ozdust here, then, is completely unfathomable. the only reason the Ozdust worked out the way it did is because everyone loved Galinda already at Shiz, but Glinda, here? the Wizard doesn't know Glinda. Madame Morrible certainly doesn't love Glinda. Fiyero might not even love Glinda, anymore. Glinda can't possibly help Elphaba change the world.

...and Glinda doesn't want the world to change. she's good at this world, right now; that's why she could bring Elphie back into the fold at school. she might even be able to do it again, here, but if Elphaba doesn't want that--if the only thing Elphaba wants is this...

the crazy thing is she almost gives in anyway. the script says she has to, obviously, but what comes across for this particular performance is Glinda almost gets on the broom for no other reason except that Elphaba is the one asking. the moment when Glinda steels herself before grabbing the broom is the same moment earlier when Glinda steeled herself before saying "don't be afraid" is the same moment later when Glinda will steel herself before bidding Elphaba goodbye. it all comes down to this: Elphie needs her. in the face of something so simple, what can Glinda do, except everything she can?

so the duet portion of this sequence is just. Elphaba's all Glinda i believe in you more than anything else in the world, you might not think you can do this but you absolutely can you can do anything. and Glinda's like Elphie i cannot follow any of your cognitive leaps and when i do they seem like the scariest most horrible things in the world, but if this is what you want i will try to help you bc you deserve everything and i believe in you even when i think you are concussed somehow. then Elphaba's like i know this dream we both want seems impossible but we can achieve it if we work together while Glinda's going i cannot fathom why literally anyone would want what you want but you seem very convinced so and you'd think at this point they'd be like what? and realize they're having two completely different conversations but instead they're so stupid with the love beaming out of their bodies it seems it might actually work out

but of course it doesn't. the script says so, and this is Katie's Glinda, so of course the bitch has to start thinking.

and it's funny. "Glinda doesn't get on the broom because she's scared" is one of the most common readings of this moment for pretty obvious reasons. "Glinda doesn't get on the broom because she's scared of Elphaba" is much rarer and, when done well, stands out a lot more; the example that comes most to mind is Alison Luff and Gina Beck, where Alison's Elphaba is so outraged by what she reads as Gina!Glinda's betrayal that it feels pretty justifiable that Glinda fears for her own safety.

then you have Katie here, who is not doing either of those but some secret third thing. that she looks at Elphaba before flinching away from the broom (btw thank you Laurel Harris for putting your hands over Katie's; my wife and i now hiss "trap her. trap her u coward" during this scene because of you) implies that was what spooked her, but it's hard for me to buy she's scared Elphaba might hurt her, because a) Laurel's Elphaba is the most pathetic of meow meows and b) Katie's Glinda, despite being a massive coward, somehow also has no sense of self-preservation

instead it feels...almost metaphysical? back in One Short Day Glinda had been cognizant of something happening between them, which she couldn't identify but Elphie could. back then she'd asked for time to figure it out; now there's no time and she's cottoned onto just how overpowering her instinct to do literally anything with Elphaba, for Elphaba, has become. it's one thing to have misgivings about Elphaba's vision for the future because it's ridiculous (and because there might not be a place for Glinda there), but it's another thing to realize that none of those misgivings matter for Glinda herself, because some part of Glinda loves Elphaba so much she was about to atomize her own wants and identity without thinking twice.

which might be the scariest thing of all for Glinda--all Glindas, even if they don't think through it as much.

they'll never bring us down, promises Elphaba, but she's not even looking at Glinda anymore. where Elphaba sees a flight into the sublime, Glinda can only see a fall into nothingness.

[theseerasures]

ah yes the face of the revolution

[theseerasures]

Laurel's fucking face journey ruins me here, like

it almost feels like a dramatic reprise of the Ozdust?? she starts out so utterly betrayed when Glinda first floats the "apologize to everyone" idea because no matter what she had been accusing Glinda of just minutes ago some part of her still believes Glinda is in her corner

and then her expression transforming as it turns out Glinda absolutely is. Glinda is trying to keep Elphaba alive, Glinda still wants Elphaba to succeed and get everything she wanted. the vulnerable hurt transforming into this equally vulnerable fondness; because it can't be Glinda's fault she doesn't know Elphaba's priorities have shifted, right? Elphaba never bothered to explain herself. so once she does--

[theseerasures]

Laurel's Elphaba is such a weakass bitch she goes from screaming in Glinda's face to being like "Gwinda :( Gwinda why is Madame Morrible being so mean :( Gwinda my feelings hurt :(" in the span of a single minute

[theseerasures]

one of my favorite things about Katie's Glinda--something which gives her that unique texture--is like. yes, she is among the most kindhearted Glindas, but at the same time she has literally never backed down from a fight and has no plans to do so ever in her life

like sure she physically backs away from Elphaba in this scene because the stage directions don't give her much choice, but even as she's backing away every pore of her body oozes wounded indignation. and the moment Katie hits her mark she gets right in Elphaba's face again and just keeps on escalating until ELPHABA has to back away a little because Glinda was??? about to bite her maybe???

or they were gonna start making out; can't have that either

it's a very different flavor from Kendra's unchecked bellicosity; Katie's Glinda doesn't like to start fights and she really does want everyone to get along and be as happy as she is. and it's not like she refuses to acknowledge she's wrong! but she can only do it after the fact, because once she gets sucked into a confrontation this girl just. has no flight response. she doesn't only do it when things are really serious like they are here, either: you can see it as early as WITF. every time Elphaba makes an aggressive gesture Galinda either matches or tries to beat it, and even the way Katie closes the number (which has not changed in 12 years)--turning back to Elphaba on the beat being all "what's wrong with you >:("--feeds into this obsession with getting the last word.

i haven't really seen it discussed but imo this characterization choice plays a significant role in how Katie's Glinda conducts herself, especially once we get to Act Two