It was supposed to be the next billion-dollar layup. When Newt Scamander first stepped out of that boat in New York City with a suitcase full of illegal magical creatures, fans were ready. We wanted more. Honestly, after the cultural titan that was Harry Potter, the world was hungry for anything J.K. Rowling touched. But here we are, years later, and the Fantastic Beasts franchise feels more like a cautionary tale of studio ambition than a magical triumph. It’s weird.
The movies started with a simple premise: a quirky magizoologist hunting for escaped animals. Somewhere along the way, it transformed into a heavy, politically-charged war drama about Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald. That pivot is where things got messy. You can't just swap genres mid-stream and expect everyone to keep up without some whiplash.
The Identity Crisis of Fantastic Beasts
If you look at the first film, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, it has a distinct charm. It’s smaller. Newt, played with a twitchy, lovable sincerity by Eddie Redmayne, wasn't a "Chosen One." He was just a guy who liked monsters more than people. That felt fresh. But the sequels? They decided they needed to be "important."
Suddenly, the beasts were side-lined. The title Fantastic Beasts started to feel like a vestigial organ—something that's there because it has to be, but doesn't really do anything. By the time we got to The Secrets of Dumbledore, the creatures were essentially MacGuffins used to pick a political leader. It’s a bit of a letdown when you realize the titular theme is playing second fiddle to a plot that probably should have just been a separate "Dumbledore" trilogy.
Warner Bros. was betting the house on a five-film arc. That’s a massive commitment. Most franchises wait to see if the second movie lands before greenlighting the fourth and fifth. This hubris led to bloated scripts. The Crimes of Grindelwald is notorious for its convoluted family trees and "wait, who is that?" moments. Leta Lestrange, Yusuf Kama, Credence—there were too many threads. It felt like reading a textbook rather than watching a movie.
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Production Woes and Real-World Friction
You can’t talk about these movies without mentioning the behind-the-scenes chaos. It’s impossible. First, there was the Johnny Depp and Amber Heard legal battle, which eventually led to Mads Mikkelsen stepping in as Grindelwald. Mads was great—arguably a more nuanced villain—but changing the face of your main antagonist in the third act of a five-act play is never ideal. It breaks the immersion.
Then there was the Ezra Miller situation. Their various legal issues and public outbursts made marketing The Secrets of Dumbledore a nightmare for the studio. How do you promote a family-friendly wizarding adventure when one of your leads is in the news for all the wrong reasons? You don't. You bury it. And that's exactly what happened. The buzz died.
- The first movie made over $800 million.
- The second dipped to around $650 million.
- The third struggled to clear $400 million.
Those numbers don't lie. The audience was checking out in real-time. It’s a shame because there are genuinely brilliant moments in these films. The production design by Stuart Craig is, as always, world-class. The 1920s aesthetic mixed with magic? Stunning. But pretty pictures can't save a script that doesn't know what it wants to be when it grows up.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Lore
There's this common complaint that Fantastic Beasts broke the Harry Potter canon. Some of it is valid, sure. Seeing Minerva McGonagall teaching at Hogwarts in the 1920s when she shouldn't have been born yet was a "head-scratcher" for the die-hards. But the bigger issue isn't the dates; it's the tone.
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The original books were about the wonder of discovery. These prequels are about the tragedy of loss. That’s a valid story to tell, but it’s a hard sell for kids. The movies are dark. Not "cool dark" like The Deathly Hallows, but "depressing dark." The color palette turned gray. The humor dried up. It felt like the fun was being squeezed out of the Wizarding World.
Also, let’s talk about Credence. Making him a long-lost Dumbledore brother felt like a twist for the sake of a twist. It didn't feel earned. In the original series, Dumbledore’s family history was a tightly woven mystery that added depth to his character. Here, it felt like a soap opera revelation. Fans caught on. They didn't buy it.
The Problem With Prequels in General
Prequels are hard. You already know how it ends. We know Dumbledore beats Grindelwald in 1945. We know he gets the Elder Wand. We know he survives until Harry’s sixth year. When the stakes are already settled by history, the journey has to be incredible to compensate.
In Fantastic Beasts, the journey felt stalled. We spent three movies getting to a point where the characters were finally ready to actually fight. That's a lot of setup for very little payoff. By the time the "big" confrontation happened in the third movie, it felt truncated. It lacked the operatic scale we were promised since 2016.
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Where Does the Franchise Go From Here?
As of 2024 and heading into 2025, the fourth and fifth movies are effectively on ice. Warner Bros. Discovery has pivoted toward a full reboot of the Harry Potter stories as a TV series for Max. This is probably the right move, honestly. The Fantastic Beasts brand is currently too weighed down by baggage—both narrative and external.
But there’s a lesson here. You can’t build a franchise on nostalgia alone. You need a coherent story that justifies its own existence. If you’re going to call a movie Fantastic Beasts, maybe actually make it about the beasts. Or, if you want to write a political thriller about the rise of wizarding fascism, call it Grindelwald. Trying to do both at the same time meant doing neither particularly well.
I still think Newt Scamander is one of the best characters J.K. Rowling ever created. He’s a different kind of hero—one defined by empathy rather than bravery or strength. In a world of "chosen ones" and "dark lords," a guy who just wants to protect a Niffler is actually pretty refreshing. It’s just a pity his story got swallowed by a war he didn't really belong in.
Practical Steps for Fans and Collectors
If you're still a fan of this specific corner of the Wizarding World, there are better ways to engage with it than re-watching the sequels.
- Read the Original Text-Book: The actual Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them "textbook" (the one released for charity years ago) is full of dry, British humor that the movies missed. It's a quick, delightful read.
- Focus on the Art Books: The "Art of the Film" books for this series are legitimately some of the best ever produced. They show the level of detail put into the MACUSA sets and the creature designs that often flashed by too fast on screen.
- Visit the Studio Tour: If you can get to London, the Warner Bros. Studio Tour has a dedicated section for the 1920s sets. Seeing the craftsmanship in person reminds you that, despite the messy scripts, hundreds of talented people poured their souls into this world.
- Accept the Trilogy as It Is: At this point, it’s best to view the three films as a complete, albeit flawed, trilogy. The ending of The Secrets of Dumbledore actually works reasonably well as a series finale if you don't think too hard about the lingering plot threads.
The Wizarding World isn't going anywhere, but the era of the Fantastic Beasts films is likely over. It's a reminder that even the biggest IPs can stumble if they lose sight of why people loved them in the first place. Sometimes, less is more. And sometimes, a suitcase full of monsters is enough of a story on its own.