REVIEW. WICKED: It's not easy being green... but it's also about the Benjamin's.

Nickels and quarters and dime, oh my!

Record receipts not just once, but twice?

Longer and bigger and more CGI!

I can't help but wonder: just why, oh why?

Greed. It's good, yes? In the words of Gordon Gekko (Michael Douglas in 1987's Wall Street), greed is a virtue, not one of the Seven Deadlies. And Wicked's $100M+ take in its opening weekend showed just how "popular" is it (sorry, couldn't resist). Too bad that, as a movie, it's just not that good. Big, yes. Loud, yes. Busy, yes. But all of those dazzling visuals really don't enhance the core of the story: identifying with someone who is different, who has been ostracized. And considering the root of the nature of evil.

Okay. Call me a purist. A classic. Or just plain old. But after reading the 1995 novel by Gregory Maguire, I envisioned a movie version of Wicked more like Thelma and Louise,1994's Heavenly Creatures (you can look it up), or even 2012's Frances Ha. Each of those movies examined various aspects of women being different, being social outcasts, but ultimately connecting with another woman who helps them find their sense of self, empowering them to realize their individual potential. But something about women and friendship and how their differences actually complement each other. Something edgy, maybe even a bit controversial. But definitely not all razzle dazzle with fluffy marshmallows and pink. Lots of pink. And remember, this is not Barbie pink. It's just frothy, sparkly pink as airy as Glinda's voice. Maguire mused about the nature of evil - was it innate or acquired? - and raised questions how one finds purpose in life. His fascination with L. Frank Baum's children's story, The Wizard of Oz, came from wondering how the Wicked Witch of the West came to be, well, wicked. Was she born that way or did she become wicked because of external circumstances?

When I read that Wicked: The Book was being turned into Wicked: The Musical, I could only conclude one thing: money. An independent movie about two young women's coming of age probably wouldn't garner much interest, but a big, splashy Broadway musical would surely draw an audience. And so it did, making stars out of Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel, and sending Gen X female hearts aflutter.

I saw a "Broadway in Chicago" touring company production of Wicked back in 2009 and wasn't overly enamoured with it. Yes, there were a few good songs, notably the now iconic "Defying Gravity," but I wasn't sure if the musical version really did justice to the strong themes of power, politics, and the nature of evil that permeated the novel. It seemed as though the musical was a clear attempt to grab baby boomers and Gen X-ers who grew up watching The Wizard of Oz on TV. Kind of a "let's give them an adult back story to a beloved children's take" and make money. So I did not have a preconceived notion about a movie version, nor a strong attachment to the original (re: I was not planning to burst into song in the theater).

Not surprisingly, it took a long time for the movie version to come along. Broadway musicals have had a notoriously bad record transitioning to film, with a few exceptions: My Fair Lady (1964), The Funny Girl (1967), Cabaret (1972), Chicago (2002), and Les Miserables (2012). Most of the time, we get really cheesy, hokey Hollywood versions of art forms meant for the stage. Think Brigadoon (1954) , Hello, Dolly! (1969), or even Phantom of the Opera (2004).

For my money, the best movie adaptation of a Broadway musical is still 1979's Hair, beautifully realized by Czech director Milos Forman (who later won Best Director for Amadeus) because it used film to capture the power of the counterculture while, at the same time, exposing some of its narcissism and superficiality. Watch it sometime: the cinematography is visually stunning, Twila Tharp's choreography is organic and fluid, and Treat Williams is the best Berger ever. It is, unfortunately, dated now, as some of counterculture's rhetoric feels trite and trivial. But sometimes that is what cinema does: it can effectively, unintentionally, expose ideas or philosophies that don't measure up to the expanse of the big screen.

So many iterations of Wicked. Many actresses suggested for the two leads, Glinda (the Good Witch), and Elphaba (the Wicked Witch of the West), including Lady Gaga (Elphaba) and Taylor Swift (Glinda). Now that would have been an interesting movie, depending on the director. The final selection of Ariana Grande (Glinda) and Cynthia Erivo (Elphaba) matches the physical appearances of Chenoweth and Menzel (though she is taller than Erivo) and, more importantly, the vocal style needed for both characters: Grande showcases a lovely, airy soprano, and Erivo's powerful alto is a force of nature.

I read one review that said Erivo brings more depth because she's African-American (re: adding more dimension to the issue of "color" as a barrier to Elphaba's acceptance). But I'm not convinced it's Erivo's blackness that makes the difference. It's Erivo. Period. Her on-screen presence dominates the movie, and her face belies a thousand slights and injustices. Her eyes reflect a soulful understanding of the world's cruelty, especially to those who are different. Side by side with Grande, you can't take your eyes off Erivo.

If you're mostly familiar with Grande's pop music, you might be surprised to hear a very different, more mature sound here. My only complaint is that sometimes the orchestrations overwhelmed her voice and you couldn't hear her distinctively. This is especially true in the opening number (and Glinda's big entrance), "No One Mourns the Wicked," where the chorus and the music overshadow Grande, making her diminutive frame seem almost invisible. Not true with Erivo (both she and Grande are 5'1"), who grabs every scene and runs (or, in some cases, flies) with it. In a movie chaotic with CGI, Erivo manages to hold her own and maintain focus on her, even when the rest of the world around her is spinning or in shambles.

The supporting cast, including Jeff Goldblum as the elusive Wizard and Oscar winner Michelle Yeoh as the sorceress Miss Morrible, are appropriately flamboyant. There's also a lovely, fey touch from SNL's Bowen Yang in a small role as one of Glinda's school friends, but he's almost misused. No one wants to think, "Oh, there's Bowen Yang!" when you're in the middle of a big production number that has nothing to do with his character.

This is a movie, after all, and gestures in film don't need the grandiose movement required on stage. Goldblum is the bigger offender here, but someone should have told director Jon M. Chu that the actors don't need to play to the people in the cheap seats. We can all hear and see everything just fine, thank you.

And seeing everything is no small thing. Chu has packed this movie with every conceivable object - big or small - no minimalism here. Every scene is crowded, crammed with everything from expansive buildings to tiny insects (which are not tiny at all). Everything is big, panoramic and busy. I felt like I was in an alternate universe, caught between The Hunger Games and Harry Potter at times, and not in a good way. Sometimes too much of a good thing isn't wonderful, and Chu might have been wise to show more restraint in visualizing each scene. It's just excessive and, for me, detracted the the essence of the story: how being ostracized turned an otherwise sensitive outcast into an evil, vindictive witch. Elphaba's pain is her power, and the tragic message of how she uses it deserves more than a song and dance. Though I can't fault Erivo - she is magnificent in this role and should see well-deserved recognition during awards season. Her scenes with Dr. Dillamond, a talking goat who also a history professor (as a history professor myself, I'll refrain from including my own snarky impression of the old goat's connection to my chosen discipline), some of the quietest moments in the movie, are genuine and poignant. We needed more of these to balance the CGI-acrobatics Chu is so fond of (over) using.

And then, of course, there's the "great divide," as I call it. About a week before Wicked's release, news broke that the movie was being released in two parts: Wicked: Part One, would essentially take us through the musical's first act; Wicked: Part Two will be released next Thanksgiving and focus on the second act. Part One, which comes in at two hours and forty minutes, is longer than the entire Broadway version, including an intermission.

Why? I feared it would be extended orchestrations of the songs (which can sometimes feel like the original is being watered down), and more CGI than necessary. Unfortunately, that's exactly what Chu has done, defending his decision by saying he needed two films to tell Elphaba's story. I may disagree. Not that I minded staying around for the rousing, emotional "Defying Gravity," just that I'm not sure splitting the movie in two will heighten its dramatic impact, and the importance of Elphaba's journey. You know what will happen next year. Movie theaters will re-release Part One before Part Two in an attempt to generation more box office returns. As if we haven't already been inundated with everything pink and green - I'll be curious to see Target's November receipts.

Chu's choice to split the movie into two parts with release dates a year apart reminded of what happened to 1973's The Three Musketeers, which still gets my vote for the best movie version of Alexandre Dumas' classic novel. With a cast that included Michael York, Oliver Reed, Richard Chamberlain, Raquel Welch and Faye Dunaway - and the directorial vision of Richard Lester, who'd had great success with the Beatles' movies a decade earlier, The Three Musketeers seemed destined to be a modern classic.

But then movie's producers decided that the original cut was too long (just over three hours), and split the film into two parts, arguing that the first half was more light-hearted and romantic, while the second part was darker and showed some of consequences of the evil MiLady's (Dunaway) machinations. The actors collectively - and successfully - sued the studio, claiming they were paid for one film, but actually made two. And the two movies are decidedly different in tone and plot. However, if you've read the novel, the arch of the musketeers story, especially novice D'Artagnan (York), was nuanced with many plot twists and turns, as well as a realization of the world in which they lived. I still try to watch both movies back-to-back (when I can find them), as together the recreate a magnificent tale of adventure, politics, duplicity and romance.

Ditto Kill Bill, director Quentin Tarantino's 2003-2004 tale of "The Bride" (Uma Thurman), and the lengths she goes to seek revenge on the assassins who tried to kill her and her unborn child. Coming in at three hours, Miramax (this is still during Harvey Weinstein's tenure) decided to cut the film in two and release each half one year apart. Bad move in terms of the movie's story and arc. I remember waiting for the second half to be released so that I could see both together. Artistically, it was worth the wait, as I could experience the full arc of Tarantino's magnificent story at once. The impact of which, was memorable.

I feel the same about Wicked. I think I could have handled Elphaba's cinematic storyline in one sitting, to feel all the feels you need to appreciate her journey, her friendship with Glinda, and the price she pays for being different. I didn't need all the extra visuals to be impressed. Elphaba's journey is enough. And, with some different directorial decisions, Chu could have accomplished the task of translating Wicked to the silver screen with all of its "green" intact.

Did I love Wicked? No. Did I hate it? No. Would I watch it again? Probably not, unless I need to revisit specific scenes before the next installment. Am I excited about Part Two? I'm mostly neutral. I didn't leave the theater with a "can't wait to see the ending" feeling, but then I already know the ending...unless Chu & Co. have performed some unexpected sorcery.

Guess we'll have to wait until next year to see if Wicked defies gravity, or if no one really mourns the wicked once they're gone. It's just the film's shameless promotion of capitalizing on a Broadway musical's popularity that lingers. Let's generate twice the box office receipts, market twice as much merchandise, and hope that the American public will buy into the movie's faux importance. Hell, we just re-elected Donald Trump, so why not? Besides, no one ever went broke underestimating the taste/intelligence of the American people. (Thanks, H.L.)

Whether Wicked Part Deux bombs or succeeds is thus irrelevant. Either way, there's money to be made. And that may be the most wicked thing of all.