What began as a charming, if eccentric, spin-off about the man who wrote a famous Hogwarts textbook soon spiraled into a five-film epic about dark wizard Grindelwald, obscurity laws, and the magical politics of the 1930s. Looking back, the first film stands as a strange, beautifully crafted anomaly: a creature-feature character study that accidentally became the prologue to a darker, messier saga. The journey began in 2001. J.K. Rowling published Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them as a slim, 54-page booklet for Comic Relief, written under the fictional author’s name “Newt Scamander.” It was a list of magical creatures with mock annotations by Harry and Ron. No plot. No villain. Just lore.
It never quite reconciles these halves. But when it works—Jacob tasting a magical pastry, Newt comforting a sobbing Credence, the thunderbird taking flight against a neon sky—it captures something rare: the sadness beneath the magic. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Things go wrong when Newt accidentally swaps suitcases with Jacob Kowalski (Dan Fogler), a kind-hearted No-Maj (American for Muggle) cannery worker who dreams of opening a bakery. Jacob inadvertently releases several creatures into Manhattan. What began as a charming, if eccentric, spin-off
The MACUSA headquarters is a soaring, gilded chamber hidden inside the Woolworth Building. The Speakeasy (a magical speakeasy where goblins serve cocktails) is dripping with jazz-age hedonism. It’s a world of cloche hats, secret handshakes, and wands concealed as walking sticks. No villain
In the end, Fantastic Beasts 1 is like Newt himself: awkward, kind, deeply wounded, and far more interesting than it first appears. It just couldn’t carry the weight of an entire cinematic universe on its suitcase straps. Featured image credit: Warner Bros. Pictures / 2016
Fans of creature design, 1920s aesthetics, and bittersweet endings. Worst For: Anyone hoping for a lighthearted Pokémon chase or a simple Hogwarts reunion.
★★★½ (3.5/5)