Who Is Going To Be Dorothy In Wicked

Okay, so you know how Wicked is that super popular show? The one where we find out all about the Wicked Witch of the West before she was, well, wicked? And before she was green? It's a real crowd-pleaser. People love it. They sing along. They wear green. They probably dream of flying monkeys.

But here's the thing. While everyone's buzzing about Glinda, the good witch (who, let's be honest, is a bit much sometimes with all that glitter and perfection), or debating if Elphaba was really that bad, there's a crucial question lurking. A question that keeps me up at night. Or at least, it would if I didn't have popcorn to munch on during the intermission.

Who is going to be Dorothy?

Wait, wait, I know what you're thinking. "Dorothy? In Wicked? She's like, the main character of the other story!" And you're right. Mostly. But hear me out. This is my unpopular opinion, and I'm sticking to it like a Kansas tornado sticks to a farmhouse.

Think about it. We've got Elphaba, who's got the whole misunderstood genius vibe. We've got Glinda, who's basically the queen bee with a heart of gold (and a wardrobe to match). We've got Fiyero, the prince charming who’s got a secret soft spot. All the players are there, setting up their Ozi-verse drama.

But what about the catalyst? The one who, you know, lands in their world and messes everything up? The girl with the ruby slippers and the little dog? The one who’s just trying to get home?

It’s a glaring omission, I tell you. It's like making a movie about your favorite pizza and forgetting to put cheese on it. Or, you know, forgetting the entire tornado. We need that anchor! We need that little bit of Kansas innocence to contrast with all the Emerald City fabulousness and Shiz University sorcery.

So, the casting directors, the producers, the magical wizards behind the curtain – they need to be thinking about this. Who has that perfect blend of wide-eyed wonder and stubborn determination? Who can belt out a ballad about wanting to go home while also looking vaguely annoyed at the talking trees?

My money is on someone who can channel that classic Dorothy energy. You know the one. That earnestness. That slight exasperation with the absurdity of it all. Someone who wouldn't be afraid to tell Glinda her dress is a tad much. Someone who would look at Elphaba’s green skin and just say, "Huh. Interesting."

I’ve been watching a lot of old movies lately. You know, for research. And I’ve seen some contenders. There’s that girl from that show about the magical school… but she’s a bit too… witchy already. We need a blank canvas. A fresh start.

Then there’s that other actress who’s always playing the sensible best friend. She’s got the right vibe. The relatable one. The one you’d trust to share your last cookie with. But can she carry a tune? Can she handle a Munchkin mob?

Honestly, it’s a tough gig. Because Dorothy isn't just a character. She's an idea. She's the ordinary person thrown into extraordinary circumstances. She’s us, but with better footwear. And a more dramatic journey.

We need someone who can make us believe that Toto is the most important thing in the world.

And who else but Dorothy can bring that level of pure, unadulterated, "I just want my aunt Em back" sincerity? The entire plot of the original story hinges on her arrival. And the sequel, if you will, Wicked, is arguably a prequel that needs its ending to make sense. It's a narrative necessity, people!

So, while the internet is busy speculating about who will play Elphaba next, or if Glinda will get another costume change (spoiler alert: she will), I’ll be here, holding out hope. Hope for a casting decision that is bold, unexpected, and absolutely perfect.

We need our Dorothy. The one who reminds us that even in a land of flying monkeys and talking scarecrows, sometimes the simplest desire – to go home – is the most powerful one. And who better to embody that than someone who can truly earn those ruby slippers and the journey they represent?

So, next time you’re at the theater, enjoying the spectacle of Wicked, just take a moment. Close your eyes. Imagine that gust of wind. The little farmhouse tumbling through the sky. And then, think about who would be the perfect person to step out of that door. Because until that question is answered, a part of me feels like Oz is still missing its most important piece.