Maleficent: Mistress of Evil

Edward Baxter
Nov 1 · 3 min read

Within Disney’s ever evolving “live-action” requiem nell of classic canon properties, Maleficent (Stromberg, 2014) represented the ideal of remaking with purpose, a unique perspective of a classic fable of a woman, robbed of her maternity and womanhood. Not a flagrant disregard for prior creatives lucrative, artistic work for the studio, most plainly on display in The Lion King (Favreau, 2019), requisitioning entire scenes and shot compositions at whim in an overt effort to capitalise on nostalgia. This newfound life within a tale as old as time kept me cautiously enthused by the prospect of a sequel.

Maleficent: Mistress of Evil (Ronning, 2019), concerns the titular mistress’s surrogate daughter Princess Aurora’s impending betrothment to young Prince Phillip. A union that may bridge the literal divide between humans and moor folk, culminating in a peacemaking celebration where Queen Ingrith makes her intentions known as diplomacy descends into calamity.

Quickly, the feature negates any evolution outlayed from the previous film with a flippant remark within its opening narration, an early precursor to the features confused direction. However, in spite of this, the first act is spirited, boasting verbal jousting within a visceral clash of personalities as the pretense is maintained.

However, the narrative develops into a quagmire as the pacing collapses in on itself, forming a storytelling entropy of confused pacing and seemingly meaningless plot threads.

Ultimately, devolving into a belated, bloated battle sequence more akin to a Marvel feature that exceeds past parlay with attempted genocide and massacre, rarely seen in a childrens feature. Before instantaneously engrained and rampant xenophobia is melded away to force a happy ending narrative. Racism is an alluded theme throughout the feature, haphazardly segued into the plot when convenient, but never addressed with the caliber of critique such a weighted subject demands. Egregious more so by another Disney features handling of the topic with poise and thought in Zootropolis (Howard & Moore, 2016), whilst maintaining the whimsy guise of a children’s film.

Glossy hyperbolic visuals abound adding little to the overall spectacle despite its many flying sequences and grandiose locals, everything is weightless and hollow. I can’t help but feel that the Disney company, through its rampant quest to dominate the media landscape has lost some of its signature magic, churning out countless sterile sequels.

Boasting a veritable plethora of talent both cast and creative, all of whom perform with gusto, given the nature of the material the film falls painstakingly flat compared to its predecessor. Unfortunately the mistress of evil no longer exists here, the fangs have lost their bite and the horns dulled.

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