I don’t need to tell you that we live in very cynical times. The cynic in all of us watched, mouth agog, as the two Wicked leads first started gushing over each other in front of the world’s media. These days, we’re used to seeing staunchly media-trained actresses dole out polite platitudes about their acting roles, nothing-burgers that fans gobble up as the rest of our eyes roll. We’re so inured to this glamorous pantomime, this Hollywood-colleague politesse, that watching Grande and Erivo gently caressing hands and openly weeping because of, well, their parts in a film felt unsettlingly unreal. We saw these high-emotional-intensity interviews, this deep intimacy, before we saw the film and the yellow brick road that led to their closeness. While these two witches weren’t in Kansas anymore, the rest of us were still firmly rooted to the ground.
