Maleficent: Mistress of Evil (2019) – Review

 “You poor, simple fools, thinking you could defeat me. Me? The mistress of all evil?” There is no more iconic Disney villain than Maleficent, a figure who once commanded “all the forces of Hell” and casually cursed a baby to die before sunset. Yet in 2014, Disney decided this horned embodiment of vengeance needed a softer edge, and—against all odds—audiences showed up in droves. Now, five years later, Maleficent: Mistress of Evil arrives to answer the question no one was urgently asking: can a reformed dark sorceress and a perpetually wide-eyed princess actually earn a happily ever after?  

 Five years after King Stefan’s demise, Aurora (Elle Fanning) rules the Moors with all the serene optimism of someone who has clearly never read a history book, while Maleficent (Angelina Jolie) hovers nearby as her protective, and apparently semi-retired, guardian. Despite saving the day last time, Maleficent still has the public image of a supernatural boogeyman, which becomes awkward when Prince Philip (Harris Dickinson) proposes to Aurora. Diaval (Sam Riley), still stuck in the role of messenger bird, relays the news, prompting Maleficent to react like any disapproving parent who senses disaster brewing. Aurora, naturally, ignores her. 

“I should have let her sleep.”

Things go downhill at a family dinner hosted by King John (Robert Lindsay) and Queen Ingrith (Michelle Pfeiffer), because nothing says “peace between kingdoms” like passive-aggressive jabs over roasted poultry. Ingrith needles Maleficent about her past, accuses her of murder, and generally behaves like someone auditioning for the title role of “Actual Villain of the Movie.” When King John suddenly collapses under a curse, Maleficent is blamed, denies it, and immediately becomes public enemy number one. Aurora, demonstrating impeccable judgment, sides against the woman who raised her, and Maleficent flees, only to be shot mid-air with an iron bullet, because, sure, this was bound to happen. 

“Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?”

After plunging into the ocean like a gothic swan, Maleficent is rescued by a conveniently placed winged stranger and wakes up in a hidden cavern filled with Dark Fey, a whole race of creatures the film insists have always existed, even though no one thought to mention them earlier. Here she meets Conall (Chiwetel Ejiofor), the calm voice of reason, and Borra (Ed Skrein), who prefers his diplomacy served with a side of mass violence. Maleficent, it turns out, is basically fairy royalty, the last descendant of a Phoenix, because when in doubt, make your protagonist secretly the most important being in existence.

“Welcome to my cave of exposition.”

Meanwhile, back in Ulstead, Queen Ingrith is busy plotting genocide with the enthusiasm of someone redecorating a living room. She despises the Moors, has weaponized iron and fairy-killing red dust, and somehow got her hands on Maleficent’s cursed spindle to frame her for King John’s condition. Aurora discovers all this, reacts with the speed of a dial-up connection, and is promptly locked away. The Moors are lured into a church, trapped, and nearly exterminated via organ music—yes, really—until a last-minute act of sacrifice saves the day. Cue a chaotic final battle where Maleficent goes full Phoenix, dies, resurrects, saves Aurora, and somehow still finds time to turn Ingrith into a goat. Peace is declared, weddings happen, and everyone pretends this resolved anything.

She’s allowed to give away the bride, so that’s nice.

Stray Observations:

• Maleficent, apparently the most powerful fairy alive, has never heard of the Dark Fey. No one thought to mention, “By the way, you’re part of an entire hidden race.”
• Queen Ingrith uses the spindle to curse King John, even though the original curse was specifically tied to Aurora. Magic apparently now runs on loose interpretations.
• We’re told Ingrith reshaped the narrative of the first film into legend. In five years. That’s not a legend, that’s a mildly exaggerated news cycle.
• The fairy trio survives lethal anti-fairy gas in an enclosed cathedral. Plot armour isn’t just thick here, it’s industrial-grade.
• Lickspittle, a de-winged pixie, helps engineer genocide against his own kind, and the film offers zero explanation beyond “He’s… around.”
• An entire war is resolved because one prince politely asks everyone to stop. If only history were that cooperative.
• Maleficent once turned Diaval into a dragon, but when it’s her turn, she becomes a Phoenix. Do the people over at Disney have something against Maleficent herself turning into a bloody dragon?

Granted, this was still better than Fox’s Dark Phoenix.

This film arrived during Disney’s relentless live-action gold rush, the fourth such adaptation in 2019 alone, and it shows all the symptoms of a studio running on momentum rather than inspiration. While not as artistically lifeless as some of its contemporaries, it still feels engineered rather than imagined. The plot sprawls in every direction, juggling political intrigue, racial allegory, family drama, and magical warfare, yet never finding a rhythm that makes any of it land. Where the first film at least followed a twisted fairy tale logic, this sequel feels like someone dumped a box of story ideas onto the floor and decided to use all of them.

That said, the film does have its own visual flair.

The most baffling element remains the subtitle, Mistress of Evil, which suggests a return to Maleficent’s darker roots, yet she spends the entire film reacting, defending herself, and trying not to get murdered.  This is not what I’d consider the definition of evil. Her résumé here includes supporting Aurora’s marriage, being framed for a crime she didn’t commit, and ultimately brokering peace. If anything, she’s the Mistress of Being Misunderstood. Meanwhile, Queen Ingrith gleefully plots mass extermination, manipulates entire kingdoms, and weaponizes fairy dust like it’s a chemical agent.

Bad Guys Where White.

Angelina Jolie, who previously seemed to relish the role’s theatrical edge, now appears disengaged, as though she’s aware she’s trapped in a sequel that doesn’t know what to do with her. Visually, she remains the definitive live-action Maleficent, all razor-sharp cheekbones and regal menace, but the character herself has been hollowed out. Stripped of agency and reduced to a reactive figure, she drifts through the narrative instead of driving it. The film wants her to be both feared and beloved, but never commits to either.

I’d fear those sharp cheekbones.

Compared to its contemporaries, one could argue this isn’t the worst offender; the current winner of that is Tim Burton’s Dumbo, but at least it attempts original storytelling rather than photocopying an animated classic frame by frame. But that faint praise comes with a catch: undermining one of Disney’s most iconic villains is arguably worse than producing another soulless remake. The first film already softened Maleficent; this one sands her down even further until there’s barely anything left to hold onto. Even Jolie can’t salvage a character who’s been reduced to a bystander in her own story.

She does get a hunky potential side piece.

In conclusion, Maleficent: Mistress of Evil is a mess from the first moment to the last frame; that the cast includes such great actors as Angelina Jolie and Michelle Pfeiffer and then wastes them in such a way is a crime against cinema. Harris Dickinson, replacing Brenton Thwaites as Prince Phillip, has all the charisma of soggy toast, while Elle Fanning is given more to do but remains trapped in a glorified damsel routine. The performances swing wildly between autopilot and theatrical excess, mirroring a film that never finds its footing. Ultimately, this sequel feels like a hollow cash grab that takes a once-great villain and turns her into something far less interesting—a character stripped of menace, purpose, and identity.