I first heard the Wicked Original Broadway Cast recording in 2024, and within the first few seconds of “Loathing,” I was hooked. It became my favorite musical and has stayed so until today.
When I learned Wicked was coming to the big screen, I was torn. I didn’t want a new version getting in the way of my love for the original. On the other hand, this presented an excellent opportunity to introduce it to people who were movie people but not Broadway people. So I went forward into waiting for the movie with cautious excitement.
Until I learned it was being split into two movies, at which point my excitement fell faster than a house from the sky.
My first experience with dividing a single media item in two was book seven of Harry Potter. In that instance, with everything that went on in that book, I understood the decision and thought it was good for the movie format.
However, when they then did so for Twilight, Hunger Games, Divergent, and so on, I started to see what this really was—a cash grab. I maintain until this day that one could watch the first, second, and fourth Hunger Games movies and suffer no confusion whatsoever. Put simply, many of these other stories just did not have enough material to warrant being split in two. The result? Some poorly paced films with lots of long, awkward pauses and drawn-out sequences inserted for the express purpose of reaching the bare minimum length for “full-length feature film.”
Then, there’s Wicked, divided along act lines—Act I in the first movie, and Act II in the second. At first glance, this seems like a perfectly decent thing to do.
Until one realizes that Act II of the Broadway show just does not have enough material to make its own movie. Fortunately, the film people realized this and added to it, which I know because I’ve listened to the soundtrack and read about it. It was not until this past weekend that I watched the first one but then did not have a chance to watch the second one.
Hence my irritation and the motivation to write this post about why cliffhangers may not work if your audience thinks they are just a trick to get them to pay for something twice.
I’m not necessarily a boycott type of person, but when I learned Wicked was being split, I decided right then and there that I would not watch either of them until both were out, streaming, and either free to me or below the newly released price-point. Hang it all, I wanted to get from “No One Mourns the Wicked” to “For Good” in as close to one sitting as I possibly could. Plus, I knew the end and all the plot twists. It wasn’t like I’d watch the first one and think “oh, no! Now I must grab tickets the nanosecond the second one comes to theaters!” Quite the opposite, in fact. I was so disappointed at having this full experience broken up that I’ve put it off. And then when I did start it, it got interrupted, which has irritated me even more.
Since I am a Wicked super-fan, I will watch the second movie, likely this coming weekend. However, if this were a story that had not had such a huge impact on my teen years, there’s a better than good chance I would have said “forget it” to the second movie. Or possibly not even have bothered to watch the first. The lack of a complete story experience this past weekend was truly a disappointment.
And even if you aren’t a Wicked super-fan, consider this cliffhanger tactic from an immersion standpoint. Ever read a book, waited months for the sequel, and then started it, only to think “wait, who’s this again? And why are they over here?” If the story doesn’t leave a lasting impression, the immersion is broken, and then you have to waste precious time recreating it. If your audience bothers to come back at all, which is far less likely if they feel cheated out of a fulfilling ending from the previous installment.
Now, lest someone read this and start telling the internet “I read that you shouldn’t use cliffhangers because they piss people off,” that’s not what I’m saying. I am saying that cliffhangers work better when they feel organic and come from a place of narrative structure, rather than a place of “hah! Now you have to buy the next one to figure out if she turned left or right!” Based on how much I have to say about this, there’s likely a deep-dive blog post in my future, but since this isn’t that kind of post, I’ll leave you with a question and observation.
Q. How do you feel when you get the rug pulled out from under you?
O. You probably aren’t the only one to feel that way.
👋 Fair travels,
Mary
P.S. A big thanks to StockSnap from Pixabay for the image.