We all know “Wicked” is a masterclass in subversion, turning our preconceived notions of the Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda the Good Witch on their heads. The songs are key to this, often layered with meanings that deepen as the story unfolds. Think about “I’m Not That Girl,” morphing from Elphaba’s envy to Glinda’s regret, or the Wizard’s paternal yearnings turning tragically ironic. Even seemingly cheerful tunes like “Thank Goodness” reveal hidden anxieties beneath the surface.
But have you ever truly listened to the opening number, “No One Mourns the Wicked,” beyond the initial fanfare? It’s easy to get swept up in the spectacle, the Munchkins celebrating the Wicked Witch’s demise. However, a closer look, especially after seeing the movie adaptation, reveals a much more poignant layer, particularly for Glinda. This isn’t just about Elphaba; it’s a chilling foreshadowing of Glinda’s own lonely destiny.
Let’s revisit the chorus Glinda sings:
And Goodness knows
The Wicked’s lives are lonely
Goodness knows The Wicked die alone
It just shows when you’re Wicked
You’re left only On your own
Initially, we interpret this as Glinda’s reflection on Elphaba’s supposed wickedness and isolation. We’re meant to feel sympathy for the “Wicked Witch,” even as the Munchkins rejoice. But the genius of “Wicked” lies in its mirroring, and here, the reflection is Glinda looking into a distorted mirror of her own future.
Think about the staging, especially in the movie. During these lines, Glinda is often visually isolated, even amidst the celebrating crowd. She stands apart, observing, almost detached. This visual language underscores the lyrics’ deeper meaning: Glinda, despite being surrounded by adoring citizens of Oz, is already experiencing a profound loneliness.
Why? Because unlike the narrative painted for Elphaba, Glinda does end up quite alone. Elphaba, despite being labeled “wicked,” finds genuine connection and love. She has Fiyero, animal companions, and a cause to fight for. Her life, while challenging, is rich with authentic relationships.
Glinda’s path is starkly different. She becomes “Glinda the Good,” an icon, an ideal. But icons are often isolated. By the time of this song, her engagement is crumbling, her friendship with Elphaba is seemingly shattered (from her perspective), and she’s navigating a treacherous political landscape with figures like Madame Morrible and the Wizard, none of whom offer true companionship.
The moment in the movie where Glinda ignites the Elphaba effigy is particularly telling. Ariana Grande’s portrayal captures not just grief, but a chilling realization. It’s not just regret or horror; there’s a hint of anger, of acceptance of a devastating truth. Glinda isn’t just mourning Elphaba; she’s confronting the emptiness of her own carefully constructed world.
As she later laments in “Thank Goodness”:
Though it is, I admit The tiniest bit
Unlike I anticipated.
But I couldn’t be happier, Simply couldn’t be happier, Well, not “simply”
‘Cause getting your dreams It’s strange, but it seems A little, well, complicated.
There’s a kind of a sort of cost. There’s a couple of things get lost.
There are bridges you cross You didn’t know you crossed Until you’ve crossed!
And if that joy, that thrill Doesn’t thrill like you think it will
Still– With this perfect finale, The cheers and the ballyhoo! Who wouldn’t be happier?
So I couldn’t be happier, Because happy is what happens When all your dreams come true.
Well, isn’t it?
Glinda achieves her dreams – popularity, power, the title of “Good Witch.” But at what cost? The song “No One Mourns the Wicked,” in its opening moments, subtly reveals this tragic trade-off. It’s not Elphaba’s wickedness being mourned, but the dawning realization of Glinda’s impending emotional isolation. Had Glinda never met Elphaba, she might have remained blissfully shallow. But that encounter forced her to confront a deeper void, a loneliness masked by adoration and authority.
So, when Glinda sings “No One Mourns the Wicked,” listen closely. It’s a song not just about the supposed demise of the Wicked Witch, but a haunting prelude to the solitude of Glinda the “Good,” standing alone on a pedestal of Oz’s making. It’s in this opening number that “Wicked” subtly foreshadows its most poignant tragedy: the loneliness of goodness when it’s pursued at the expense of genuine connection and self-acceptance.
