How the Wicked: For Good films are redefining disability representation on screen

16 November 2025

Photograph: Giles Keyte/AP

When the spotlight turned to the latest instalment of the beloved musical turned film franchise Wicked, one of the most resonant stories was not about flying witches or emerald cities it was about what one role represented behind the scenes. Actress Marissa Bode carved history by becoming the first actor with a disability to portray Nessarose Thropp, the wheelchair-using younger sister of Elphaba, in this mammoth production. For disabled performers and communities alike it was a landmark moment and an overdue change.

Bode’s casting matters because it addresses an industry practice long criticised what advocates call “cripping-up,” the casting of non-disabled actors in disabled roles. She says that when she was cast, she knew the significance. “I really hope my casting sets precedent,” she told the press, adding that it is “just navigating a world and a system that we have just not been acknowledged in as we should be.”

Her experience on set was noteworthy not just for the milestone nature of her casting but for the support she received. The production hired a disability coordinator, wheelchair user Chantelle Nassari, to ensure accessibility. Bode said that eliminated a layer of worry and let her focus on performance. “That was one less thing I had to worry about and I could just go in and do the job,” she shared.

However, history did not erase resistance. After the first film of the franchise was released late in 2024, Bode faced aggressive social-media comments targeting her character’s disability. She noted that while criticism of Nessarose is acceptable because she is fictional, mocking the disability itself is harmful and unacceptable. “At the end of the day me Marissa is still the person who is disabled and in a wheelchair,” she commented.

Importantly the sequel made subtle but meaningful changes to the storyline. In the stage version of Wicked Nessarose’s ruby slippers are enchanted to help her walk again. Critics argued that this sent an ableist message that disability must be ‘fixed’. For the film this was re-worked: instead of walking, Nessarose’s enchantment allows her to float, transforming what once resembled cure narrative into a moment of creative empowerment. Bode called it “something I really appreciate … I think it just adds so much more humanisation to Nessa.”

Beyond one role the larger vision is clear: disabled characters deserve to be complex and multidimensional. “Disabled characters deserve to be complex and deserve to be not just one thing,” Bode argued. She spoke of the broader cycle of disability being portrayed as bad, or disability being a burden, and that the industry must shift away from those narrow scripts.

For her the call extends beyond acting into creation. She advocates for more disabled creatives working as writers, directors and crew. She pointed to the need to “tell our own stories a lot of the time” so that the richness of lived experience influences representation. Some of the creators she names as inspiration include Crutches and Spice, Aariana Rose Phillip and Aubrey Smalls.

The ripple effect of Bode’s casting is already visible. A recent study by the Rudderman Family Foundation showed that only 21 per cent of disabled characters on U.S. television (2016-23) were played by disabled actors. Her role stands in contrast to that statistic and signals that change is possible.

Even the broader production of the films appears to reflect this shift. There is a growing realisation in Hollywood if global blockbusters like Wicked are prepared to cast authentically and build accessible sets, then the standard for representation can move. Bode’s on-set experience suggests that when the infrastructure changes, the performance flows.

She is realistic about backlash. “Unfortunately I kind of do expect that again,” she said in reference to online trolling. But she maintains hope that people will see Nessarose not just as a character defined by a wheelchair, but as someone with longing, desire, agency and flaws. And that, she said, is the goal.

For the audience the message is quietly transformative. When a major film like Wicked foregrounds a character who uses a wheelchair and casts an actor who uses one, it challenges countless expectations. It whispers that representation is not about tokenism, but about inclusion, narrative depth and authenticity.

In the end the story is part of the larger arc of inclusion in screen culture. Marissa Bode’s casting, the changes in Nessarose’s storyline, the backlash, and the resolve combine into more than a piece of industry news. They reflect the cultural shift of what representation means who gets to be in the frame, whose story gets told, and how disability is seen. And for many viewers that shift matters.