The hypocrisy of Wicked

THERE'S NO EMPATHY IN OUR SOCIETY

By the time you read this, the movie Wicked would have been released and likely earned the number one spot at the box office. Wicked is an adaption of the 2003 musical, which in itself is an adaption of the 1995 Gregory Maguire novel with the same title, which in turn is taken from the 1939 The Wonderful Wizard Of Oz movie, which is based on the novel written in 1900 by L. Frank Baum. 

In all versions, the Wicked Witch is not a good person. She enslaves people and creatures, abuses animals and takes a “whatever means necessary” approach to cementing her power in Oz. But in its current form, the movie that will be viewed by hundreds of thousands of moviegoers, we will get an empathetic view of why the witch is the way she is. 

Fans will walk out of the movie feeling good about themselves. They will feel proud that they found it in their hearts to cheer for the Wicked Witch and forgive her of all her evils because now they know why she did what she did. The witch will be redeemed. 

Just like the Joker has been redeemed. 

I absolutely loved Joker. I felt strangely connected to the Joker’s plight even though I had never experienced any of the bullying and mocking he endured, nor do I have any visible disability (or any disability at all) or suffer from any major mental or emotional distress. Yet when the Joker shot those people in the subway, four of them if I remember correctly, then went home and danced, I wanted to stand up and cheer. 

Then he shot the talk show host in the head on live TV and it made me stop. Literally. Sitting in my seat, everything stopped and I stared at the screen wondering if I should still be rooting for this person. The entire theatre felt eerie and I’m willing to bet that many viewers shared my predicament. 

Because if art is supposed to reflect culture and culture informs art, then what we all watched in that theatre is something none of us would be okay with in real life. Yes, the Joker was treated unfairly but let’s not mince words: he’s a murderer. Cold-blooded at that. He kills people and in his own demented way, he enjoys it. And as is typical of a redemption story, we as viewers excuse it. More than that, we validate it and dare I say celebrate it. Again, he is a murderer. 

But once we leave that theatre, we leave much of that empathy behind in those comfy seats. In real life, we can understand when someone is feeling suicidal but we can never bring ourselves to empathize with the person that is feeling homicidal. And yes, one outcome is a person harming themselves versus harming someone else; but if we’re conscious of the backstories of both of these individuals, then shouldn’t we be able to offer empathy in either situation? 

Characters like the Joker are taken from larger stories, usually fairy tales and/or comics. Villains like Cruella De Vil and Maleficent are the offspring of stories designed for children. But those fairy tales typically have even darker origins. In fact, the origins of most fairy tales weren’t meant for kids at all. 

Before fairy tales, there were folktales that adults told each other for entertainment. Some of those stories made it into books like Nursery and Household Tales published by the Grimm Brothers in 1812. Those stories were a bit (or a lot) too macabre for children, so they were toned down to be more accessible. Still, even in some of the toned-down versions, these early versions of fairy tales were violent and…disturbing, to say the least. 

Take Rapunzel, for example. The most recent remake is Tangled, a cute story of a young girl whose hair has powers to help one stay young and beautiful. Rapunzel is kidnapped by a witch who uses Rapunzel’s hair to maintain her own beauty. Years later when Rapunzel is a young woman, she is rescued by a prince who uses Rapunzel’s hair to climb into her room, then cuts Rapunzel’s hair to kill the witch and they live happily ever after. Awww. 

In the original Grimm Brothers story, the prince is smitten with Rapunzel and impregnates her. The witch gets upset and banishes Rapunzel to the desert. The prince, too heartbroken to go on, jumps out of the tower window, lands in a thorned bush and is blinded. After wandering as a homeless person for years, he fatefully bumps into Rapunzel, who is unmarried with two kids. Rapunzel uses her tears to heal the prince’s blindness and they marry. Yeah, not so cute. 

The original Sleeping Beauty story is even more disturbing. 

When princess Zellendine falls into her eternal sleep, a knight named Troylus comes to her rescue. Troylus is told by the goddess Venus that he must “pluck from the slit” if he wants to wake up his princess (you may want to close your eyes for this part). After a kiss doesn’t wake the princess, let’s just say that nine months later, the still sleeping Zellendine has a baby. The baby sucks Zellendine’s finger and she wakes up. 

My year as a full time author

The newer stories of Sleeping Beauty have been sanitized, but there are enough similarities to the original to maintain the story’s essence. This is the story that we’ve turned into Maleficent, the supernatural, wizard-like character who triggers the curse that puts all of this in motion. Maleficent ends up as a heroic figure and her back story of taunted love forces us to empathize. 

But is this really empathy? There are two sides to this argument that feel completely contradictory. First, let me ask you a question: Do you feel like we live in a more empathetic world? Are people given second chances for their ill deeds? 

I don’t know about you, but it sure feels like people have become increasingly more cruel, more impatient and far less likely to excuse any type of bad behaviour. 

We’re at a point where people who stand on opposing ends of the political spectrum can’t even speak to each other, much less be friends. Yet in our movies, we’re asked to extend an abnormal amount of empathy for murderers and violent offenders because they were jilted by an ex-love or made fun of for some deficiency. 

I’m not making any conclusions here. What I’m saying here is that there seems to be a disconnect between what the art today is portraying and how culture actually responds to the concept of empathy. 

That’s one perspective. The other asks the question “why are we even doing this?” We meaning the storytellers. Why are we creating stories that excuse the heinous behaviour of villains? Author Serena Valentino has an entire series where she humanizes villains. Here’s a description of one of her stories titled Evil Thing: A Villain’s Graphic Novel: 

“Sure, you know the story of those wretched Dalmatians. But don’t I deserve a chance to tell my own side of the story? It is fabulous, after all.”

You may think you know the tale: a happy young couple, one hundred and one Dalmatians, and the woman determined to turn them into a perfectly spotted fur coat.

But who is that monster, that scene-stealer, that evil thing? Who is the woman behind it all? Before the car crash, before the dognapping, before furs became her only true love, there was another story. This is the story of Cruella De Vil—in her own words.

So we can write and publish a multi-part series about redemption yet if I ask you right now to have coffee with the person who is furthest from your moral beliefs, you’ll look at me like I asked you to jump out of the tower like our good old prince in the Rapunzel story. 

It’s hypocrisy. 

And if we really want to get deep, we’ll acknowledge that we reserve more empathy for some groups and less for others, but we’re not ready for that conversation just yet.

For now, tell me what you think. Are we living in a hypocritical society that pretends to be more virtuous than it actually is?