My husband of 27 years, a successful businessman, whose career enabled him to cross paths with society’s elite; Oprah, Pope Francis, and Donald Trump to name a few, asked me to join him to see Wicked over the Thanksgiving Holiday.
I painted my lips the perfect shade of pink and smoothed my blonde locks, I had unknowingly patterned myself in looks and attitude, after Glinda (Arianna Grande), the Barbiesque anti-hero, of the new movie Wicked. Yes, just like Glinda “The good”, I made sure I was the perfect, perky, popular, wife.
Even though my husband and I had recently separated, and he’d moved into our condo on Michigan Avenue, I happily joined him, presenting a united front for the Thanksgiving holiday. Not only for my college-aged daughter’s sake but for a larger cause; as a statement of hope to our friends, family and society.
I remained amicable, going so far as to celebrate our 27th wedding anniversary with him, even though we were separated. Self-appointing myself, as a role model of how to rise above the usually ugly, tawdry side, of divorce. Consciously uncoupling, in such a way, that it would have made Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin proud.
There was nothing dirty or unseemly about the dissolution of MY marriage. It was a squeaky clean, perfect break. Glinda would have waved her wand with approval, as I smiled sweetly, and tossed my hair, as I got into his Tesla and headed to our Thanksgiving dinner.
We broke bread and spoke openly of our gratitude for “our” life: Our children, our home, our health. In the garden room of the chic Deerpath, in Lake Forest, Illinois, we raised champagne flutes in a toast, and I made sure to smile. I was never going to fly off the handle and be a “bad” witch. I vowed; that I was going to be good- always.
After this perfect meal, we all went to see Wicked together as a family.
I didn’t know anything about the film, other than it was a wildly successful musical. So, I had zero expectations.
I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed the film. It was a visual triumph, the cast spectacular, beyond that I didn’t take away anything of real significance- not giving it any thought. Other than it was a fun, family film.
After that “perfect” Thanksgiving weekend, where we all got along fabulously, my husband contacted me and said that he missed me and loved me and generously asked what I would like for Christmas.
I contemplated this gesture. Nobody wants to get divorced, had I made a mistake? My resolve was waning, and I began to think perhaps the divorce wasn’t the right thing, going so far to call my lawyer. He loved me after all. He was so generous, he wanted to know what I wanted for Christmas. He was offering to gift me something wonderful, just like he had done last year, when he had bought me a white Porsche for Christmas. It was presented to me with a massive red bow on top, like something out of a movie.
Later that day, a girlfriend asked if I would like to go see Wicked. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I had already seen it. And truth be told, I was lonely in our huge house, all by myself. I had NEVER been without a man. I had gone from my parents’ home, straight into a series of serious relationships with men, and then into my marriage of 27 years. So, I eagerly said Yes!
The second viewing of the movie gave me a much deeper understanding of the underlying messages in the film. So much so, that as I sat in the theater, I began to shake and to weep.
Elphaba’s (Cynthia Erivo) father is the mayor of Munchkinland. He is a powerful man in Oz and his dictatorial rule over his daughter, the bad witch, is ever present, throughout the film.
In one scene, a particularly poignant bonding moment, between Glinda and Elphaba, they share secrets at a sleepover. Elphaba admits her dark secret. her father hates her. And it is ultimately this hatred, that causes her to seek out approval from another father figure-The Wizard.
The disapproving abusive nature of Elphaba’s father directly related to my childhood and my relationship with my own father. No matter how perfect I tried to be, it was never good enough. Images of my childhood flashed back as I remembered how I used to march like a soldier, doing the military two step, so as not to incur my father’s wrath.
I would trot by his side in strict, militant formation, always the perfect, little soldier girl. But it still was never good enough to avoid his abuse, which was so severe, it caused even my brothers to suffer as adults.
The eldest self-medicated, the middle suffered from PTSD, and my youngest sibling battled with depressive episodes.
On the other hand, I was fine. Perfect in fact, just like Glinda. For 27 years I appeared to have a rock-solid marriage and was completely put together, living a happy life. But just like the wizard himself (Jeff Goldblum), none of it was real.
Seeing Wicked and having that violent reaction to the film forced me to confront the abuse that I had suffered at the hands of my father. And acknowledge that I had married a man who was very much like the wizard, someone who really wasn’t able to love in the way that I needed, instead giving gifts as a way to show affection.
For me, Wicked was much more than just a fanciful, family musical, with toe tapping tunes, and awe-inspiring visuals. But rather, a deep commentary on our patriarchal society and the far-reaching impact that has on women.
Both Wicked and last year’s mega-hit Barbie provided deeper perspectives, to women like me about our society, and the patriarchal ideal that women are held to. Not just by fathers and husbands, but by marketers, advertisers, the media, and society as a whole.
But I knew I had to take personal responsibility for the choices that I had made. Acknowledging the fact that my entire adult life, I had been relying on male approval. Looking for “Wizards” to rescue me, to validate me. I needed to be strong, like Elphaba and stop trying to present a perfect picture to the world, which again was not real. It was a figment of my imagination. It was a creation. I was living my life in a pink bubble, like Glinda, floating around, surrounding myself with a protective shield, rather than being honest.
That very day, I called my lawyer and said I was proceeding forward with my divorce. I am teaching myself to defy gravity and to take the chance, to fly on my own.
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Reel 360 News contributor Amy Pais-Richer is a painter, author and screenwriter.
