We saw the LA production of the Broadway show for my birthday, which was a lot of fun. I had read the book about a hundred years ago and remembered very little in the way of details, which is good, since they would have marred the experience.
Every time I mentioned that we were going to Wicked, people gushed like you wouldn't believe, which actually made me just a little nervous, considering how critical Chris and I often find ourselves of things that everyone else just adores. We thought the show was fun, but not great. The story didn't hold together in the end, and in really basic ways, like the timing didn't come close to matching the source material, The Wizard of Oz.
As it turns out, after reading the book again, I see that bad adaptation is the root of the problem. Significant features of the story were changed, and not in what I consider ways that served the story. The book itself gets a little dense and overdone at the end, but is still really fun to read.
It's also pretty racy, as far as violence and sex go, and I wonder how many of those pre-teens at the show have been encouraged to read it after seeing the show.
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