Practical Magic 2

The Owens sisters return after 28 years in Practical Magic 2, a belated follow-up to the 1998 original that conforms to Hollywood’s banal legacy sequel template. Adopting a predictable narrative structure for this sort of thing, the movie retells the same story in hopes of connecting with a younger fanbase, all while giving superfans the illusion of something new. Practical Magic was generally panned by critics and embraced by audiences, and that will probably be the outcome here too, though surely with less rabid devotion among its defenders. The appeal lies in strong women who learn to harness their innate power and take control of their lives. When the moviegoer’s life is particularly chaotic or emotionally fraught, there’s something appealing about a character who can cast a spell to get her way. An ensemble of (mostly) cherished actors playing these characters only sweetens the deal. Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman return alongside fresh and familiar faces, delivering a routine, forgettable watch that will improve depending on how much wine you drink during the show or how many friends you watch it with—the more the merrier on both counts.   

Based on the book series by Alice Hoffman, who wrote two prequels and a sequel to her 1995 original, Practical Magic 2 follows the storyline from the author’s 2021 installment, The Book of Magic. Much as with the first movie, I have to imagine the book was better, with fleshed-out characters and a developed conflict. The screenplay (credited to Akiva Goldsman, Georgia Pritchett, and Kelly Marcel) plays it safe, manufacturing a reason for the studio to retell the same story. Sally (Bullock) and her wilder younger sister Gillian (Kidman) still live in their Massachusetts home with their kooky aunts (Stockard Channing and Dianne Wiest). At the end of Practical Magic, Sally supposedly broke the Owens family’s curse that says any man an Owens woman loves will die. The sequel proves that assumption wrong. Sally has since sworn off magic and romance after the death of her husband (Aidan Quinn in the first movie) and forced Gillian to promise never to tell Sally’s two daughters that they’re witches.  

Now Sally’s children are in their twenties and starting their lives (even though, based on the timeline, they should be in their thirties). The youngest, Antonia (Maisie Williams), who takes after the orderly Sally, is a nurse training to be a neurosurgeon. Her older sister Kylie (Joey King), more of a Gillian, is an art student on the cusp of falling in love with her boyfriend, Gideon (Xolo Maridueña). Inevitably, the repressed family secrets return after the passing of a beloved aunt, leaving Gideon nearly dead and Kylie determined to break the curse. She travels to the Owens’ ancestral home in England for answers. Sally and Gillian follow, securing the help of a hunky but disgraced professor, Ian (a buttery-voiced Lee Pace), who maybe—just maybe—could be the one to charm Sally back to magic and romance. The story veers into an obligatory confrontation with a resident bad guy, an underdeveloped character played by Solly McLeod. His role emphasizes the long history of men trying to seize and control women’s agency, believing that “power is making other people suffer.” It’s all resolved in a climactic sequence saturated in streams of gray magic rendered with subpar CGI.  

Directed by Danish filmmaker Susanna Bier, who made Bird Box with Bullock in 2018, the film features unflashy camerawork by d.p. Simon Duggan, captured in bohemian colors and candlelight. Bier knows this sequel isn’t rooted in intricate plotting or flashy cinematography, but in the sisterly bond between two movie stars. “No magic is stronger than sisterhood,” declare the Owens sisters (but it doesn’t hurt to have magic to help you stop an evil warlock when the plot requires it). Bullock and Kidman, who play reserved and outgoing, respectively, seem to be enjoying themselves—Kidman most of all. She gets to have more fun, pantsing her onscreen sister and behaving like an impulsive free spirit. Bullock is saddled with Sally’s Type-A personality and awkward, nervously stumbling dialogue that feels unnatural. Wiest and Channing are radiant and lend a warmth to the proceedings, while the more central King can’t quite measure up to her co-stars.  

Most distracting, the script is full of plot holes and inconsistencies. For example, McLeod’s character claims he was born without magic and plans to steal Kylie’s abilities with a ritual, but he’s also able to perform curses on people, which, the last I checked, is magic. Can he perform magic or not? Elsewhere, over a late-night dessert of hot apple pie slathered in custard, Sally tells Ian that she loves the creamy treat, as though she always has. But later in the movie, she thanks him for introducing her to custard. So which one is it? There’s also a big fuss made over Sally dragging some suitcases up three flights of stairs. Can’t she shoot some gray CGI waves out of her hands to magic them up? A more concerning inconsistency is how Antonia has no narrative arc whatsoever, which is a shame, since Williams is a fine performer. (By the end, I began to suspect that a subplot around Antonia had been cut, perhaps for time, or for other reasons, but this is pure speculation on my part.)

Practical Magic 2 establishes a patterned narrative that shows how, in the witch world, history repeats itself with cyclical consistency. The elder aunts pass on to the next realm, their nieces become the new family matriarchs, and the children graduate to a central role in later installments, assuming they happen. Curses are broken, only to return and require lifting once more. Life imitates art, too, as the movie repeats a narrative pattern common among legacy sequels. The result is clearly a Warner Bros. effort to exploit Hollywood IP, not a labor of love. It’s saddled with so many callbacks and nostalgic nods to the original, from margaritas to Stevie Nicks needle drops, that it never really comes to life on its own terms. The filmmakers took the easy, formulaic, fan-service route instead of letting the characters evolve. Even as seasons change, things remain the same. Maybe, as Nicks sings in the featured “Landslide,” time will make the filmmakers bolder, and future entries will take more risks.