There was always going to be some level of disappointment to this for me personally. I’ve gone on record about how Nicholas Roeg’s The Witches is one of my all-time favourite movies, and the idea of something coming along that can do that story better seems unlikely. But to give this production credit right off the bat, all the pieces are certainly in place for something that can at least stand out from the original, if not ascend it. Between Robert Zemeckis as director/co-writer, who knows how to use cinema technology to tell a gripping story, and creature feature maverick Guillermo Del Toro teaming up with creator of the -ish franchise Kenya Barris to add to the script, there’s a chance for this to take the source material into an interesting new direction. But while there’s certainly traces of that intent in here, it still can’t manage to escape the shadow of its predecessors.
Part of what makes the original so great is that the casting was so on-point, it’s difficult even imagining anyone else in those roles. No one could embody British restlessness like Rowan Atkinson, no one could personify comfort like Mai Zetterling, and as someone who made a healthy career out of delectable depictions of the dark feminine, no one makes evil look more fun than Anjelica Huston.
And yet, they certainly tried to fit those moulds here. Anne Hathaway’s inhuman screech certainly makes for a more immediately-threatening presence as the Grand High Witch, if not quite as entertaining, and Octavia Spencer as the grandmother lends her earthiness to the kind of character you could easily see being a human balm to such a bizarre situation. But outside of those two, no one here makes enough of an impact to stand out, including the three lead mice (One of whom shares a voice with Chris Rock as the narrator, whose worthwhile contributions here are minimal at best).
And on that note, let’s get into where this film earnestly tried to breath a different air into the source material. It’s here where the team-up of Del Toro and Barris ends up making sense, as their respective histories with stories of the subjugated Other and the Black experience add some commentary to the idea of the Grand High Karen wanting to literally exterminate those she finds to be a nuisance. It primarily taking place in an upper-class hotel, with a largely African-American staff (save for Stanley Tucci as the manager), adds to that effect, as does the inclusion of voodoo into the larger examination of magic. The film even manages to tap into an idea the original merely looked past, with the idea of Hero Boy (yeah, that’s the protagonist’s credited name, and he’s about as bland as that suggests)’s pet mouse is also a victim of these witches.
Then there’s the effects work, one of the more objective points of contention as, no matter how advanced CGI tech gets, there’s no replacing the tangible textures of the original’s Jim Henson puppetry. But again, credit where it’s due, the effects work still works out pretty damn well. The animation for the mice gives them a lot of expression, which humanises them in a way the original never really seemed to manage, and as for the witches… dayum! The rendering of their squared feet and clawed hands is solid, and the Grand High Witch’s smile is genuinely unnerving, aided greatly by the monstrous vocal delivery from Hathaway.
There’s more than enough here worth being scared of… and yet the film’s tone never ends up delivering on that. The aforementioned racial allegory doesn’t add a whole lot to the overall narrative, save for some interesting speculation, and even with the body horror baked in, the tone is too light to do it justice. The most horrifying thing to happen here is in a throwaway line when Hero Boy says that he likes being a mouse because, since he’ll never have to drive, he won’t end up in an accident like his parents did. It’s a real lump-in-the-throat moment that fits with Roald Dahl’s original tone, but it’s also an unfortunate outlier.
Even with my pre-established biases, I honestly wanted to
give this film a chance. I’m not as instantly sceptical of remakes as most
others, since a fresh perspective always has the opportunity to revitalise a
classic story; I’ve covered quite a few films that managed to accomplish just
that, like Leigh Whannell’s The Invisible Man or Luca Guadagnino’s Suspiria.
But it feels like the filmmakers here are taunting the audience with the prospect
that they have a different take on the source material, but are too
restrained by that same material to make full use of it. I can't say it's bad, but I can't say it's necessary either.
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