Crafting a good movie musical is a delicate art. To find a cast that can carry a tune as well as they can emote is just one of many miracles that have to materialize — but when the stars align with sweeping set design, good cinematography, and great songs, it’s obviously magic.

That brilliance comes in fits and starts in Wicked. The long-gestating adaptation of the Broadway juggernaut, itself an adaptation of an adaptation of the original Wizard of Oz, Wicked’s ambitions are set appropriately high. Director Jon M. Chu, himself no stranger to a musical, samples from many different pots here: his Wicked belongs to two worlds, invoking the knowing urgency of its on-stage predecessor and the Old Hollywood grandeur of its source material. And were it not for some overindulgent pacing choices and an unfortunate reliance on backlights, this new incarnation of Wicked might have been perfect.

Fans have been waiting for a faithful adaptation for years, and Wicked definitely fits the bill — but its love for the source material is almost its undoing. Plenty of pixels have been spilled about the choice to split a two-hour stage musical into two different films, and at its lowest points, Wicked does test its goodwill. It’s not without its flaws, but they’re easy to forgive, if only because it manages to create an entirely new myth from decades of careful worldbuilding.

I enter a hollowed-out factory with a wide open garage entrance. I explode: a cleverly hidden trip wire worked as intended on an unsuspecting intruder. I reload my save, carefully disarm the trip wire, and make it far enough to enter the heart of the factory. A set of stairs leads to a second level where I overhear the steps of an enemy soldier. One step onto the stairs and I explode. Another trap, this time connected to a pair of gas tanks. I reload. This time I account for all the traps, only to be one-shot by the enemy, who I now know has a gun that makes my salvaged rifle look like a peashooter.

I reload, making it past the traps and this time triumphing over the perched soldier. My earlier observation was correct: looting his body rewards me with a sniper rifle and a machine gun compatible with the laser sight I found earlier. Nice.

I carefully leave the factory (filled with more trip wires) with my haul, ready to face the day. As the sunlight hits my eyes, I’m immediately hounded by a pack of gross mutations called “fleshies.” I flee, hoping to conserve my bullets only to see my radiation levels skyrocket. I fumble around trying to crack open meds before it's too late, only to be snatched by a gravitational anomaly that kills me quicker than any of the dangers I was actually aware of. I reload.

This is what progress in S.T.A.L.K.E.R. 2: Heart of Chornobyl often plays like. I predict many players will bounce off of its punishing opening moments. It has zero concern about making things approachable. But those who make it past its trial-by-fire approach to open-world design will be rewarded with an experience unlike most other shooters. Unfortunately, moments of brilliance organically learning how to navigate the deadly wasteland are throttled by bizarre bugs and performance issues.

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