Fantastic Beasts and the Perils of Over-complication

The series has yet to figure out why its overwrought narratives justify their complexity...or their existence.

If you’ve seen any of the three Fantastic Beasts films, you’re no doubt aware of a number of important things. First of all, J.K. Rowling, whatever her (admittedly dubious) talents as a young adult fantasy novelist, is decidedly not very good at screenwriting. Among other things, she relies far too much on info-dumps and exposition to convey important information. Second of all, you’ll notice that the series has no overarching creative force behind it, as opposed to, say, either Star Wars or the Marvel Cinematic Universe over at Disney. This, in turn, leads us to the third thing, which is that this series also lacks a coherent mythology; each film introduces us to new creatures and magical traditions that have no precedent, either in the previous films or in the lore already established in the original Harry Potter series. Fourthly and finally, it is a notoriously overcomplicated series, with various plot twists that often make no sense and which ultimately leave the audience scratching their heads about what, exactly, it is that they’ve seen. Let’s break down each of these in turn.

Like many other people, I’ve grown increasingly angry and frustrated with Rowling and her ever-more-egregious attacks on trans people. I still struggle to understand why someone with her incredible influence and cultural cache as one of the most successful authors of the 20th and 21st centuries would choose to sully her legacy in such a way. Be that as it may, I’m also flummoxed as to why Warners continues to give her so much creative control over this property, given the extent to which there doesn’t seem to be a clear overarching goal.

If, for example, Warners had decided to go in the direction of either the Star Wars franchise or the MCU, this could have perhaps been avoided (there are some indications that they are going to do precisely this with the DCEU, a franchise that has similarly struggled to assert itself or find a coherent approach to its stories). Love them or hate them, both Star Wars and Marvel have benefited from the oversight of such figures as Kathleen Kennedy and Paul Feige. Marvel in particular deserves a great deal of credit for how skillfully Feige has created a sprawling universe that still manages to feel coherent and connected. And, contrary to what some might claim, you don’t have to have seen the other films to enjoy a singular entry (I say this as someone who merely dabbles in this particular universe). Almost without exception, both the films and the TV series manage to be both self-contained and connected to what has come before (and what will come after); they thread the needle of complexity and simplicity. 

As a result of this lack, each subsequent entry in Fantastic Beasts seems to have sprung out of nowhere, with few meaningful connections to its predecessors. Take, for example, the third and most recent entry, The Secrets of Dumbledore. Though it has some carryover from The Crimes of Grindelwald–most notably in Grindelwald’s efforts to use Credence Barebone as a means of killing his lover-turned enemy Albus–these feel quite ephemeral. What’s more, it also introduces a new magical creature, the Qilin who, apparently, has long played a key role in determining who will lead the magical world. However, this is a rather tough pill to swallow, given that we have literally never heard of this creature at any point in any of the preceding stories. And, given just how extensively we have already explored the inner workings of the magical world and its institutions, one would have thought that someone would have mentioned this at literally any point in the many preceding books or films. 

Given all of this, it’s not at all surprising to find that this series is often ridiculously complicated. Now, to be clear, I’m very much in favor of complex storytelling, particularly in fantasy. Multiple plot threads are a key part of the pleasure of epic fantasy–of which Harry Potter is an example–but this only works when there is a clear pattern. Unfortunately, this has been lacking from the very start, once it became clear that this wasn’t going to be just a merry jaunt with the delightfully whacky Newt Scamander and his pals but, instead, somehow also a story about the rise of Grindelwald and his war against the Muggles. Thus, characters run around doing all manner of things, but it’s sometimes hard to tell just why they’re doing it, let alone why we, as viewers, should care about them. 

Each film, particularly the second and third ones, have struggled to meld together these two strands, and it’s very clear that the series as it currently exists wasn’t quite what the studio (or perhaps even Rowling) had in mind when they started. While this attempt to put two very unlike things together worked decently in the first film, by this point it’s become something of a lost cause. There is, at times, a tonal inconsistency to these films that can be very jarring indeed, particularly given the fact that we’re talking about one wizard’s attempt to commit genocide. Thus, much as I like Jacob Kowaski as a character, his comic relief often feels very out-of-place, particularly in The Secrets of Dumbledore, and his eventual reunion with Queenie feels rushed and begs the question of why they had her convert to Grindelwald’s cause to begin with (it was tacked on during the climax to Crimes of Grindelwald) if it was going to be resolved so quickly and tritely. 

All of this being said, I will say that I did enjoy the third installment, The Secrets of Dumbledore, more than I did the second (though not as much as the first, I must admit). Mads Mikkelsen makes a very good Grindelwald, with a sinister charisma that was utterly lacking in Johnny Depp’s overly mannered and cartoonish performance (to say nothing of his ghastly hair and makeup in the second film). I find myself agreeing with the many critics who believe he should have been cast in the role in the first place. After all, if you’re looking for someone to play a menacing wizard of vaguely Germanic extraction, you can’t go wrong with Mikkelsen. Likewise, Jude Law continues to turn in a good performance as Dumbledore, giving us a man truly haunted by his youthful indiscretions and obsessions with Wizard purity and dominance. And of course Eddie Redmayne continues to be enchanting as Newt (even if he feels even more disconnected from the Dumbledore/Grindelwald storyline than ever). 

However, strong performances ultimately can’t overcome the fundamental flaw marring the heart of this new franchise. It is simply far too complicated with no real clear reason for being so. Until and unless the powers-that-be at Warners decide just what they want this franchise to be–what its stakes are and, just as importantly, why viewers should care–I fear that this series will never be more than a footnote in the history of Harry Potter.