New world order

To explain what’s troubling about J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter prequel, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, indulge me as I go deep into the weeds of Harry Potter lore.

Much of the appeal of Rowling’s blockbuster series has always come from the rich and multifaceted world-building she achieved, of which Hogwarts was only a part. Throughout (though on a far more juvenile scale), she managed to give readers (and viewers) something of what The Lord of The Rings did—a sense of a culture with deep roots. The wizards of Potter inhabited a fully fleshed-out society within our society and possessed a fully fleshed-out history intertwining our own. Thus, at several points in her seven-book cycle, Rowling dealt with England’s witch-burning past, but always with a whimsical tone that, far from being menacing, actually heightened the wittiness of her very British sense of humor.

Devoted fans will recall that in The Prisoner of Azkaban Harry received an assignment to write an essay on why witch-burning in the Middle Ages was pointless. The answer was that torch-bearing Muggles posed no threat to wizard-kind because the wizards could simply cast spells to protect themselves. One of Harry’s textbooks told of a witch who allowed herself to be burned at the stake 47 times because she enjoyed the tickling sensation of the flames.

Even the Dursley family’s abuse was so Roald-Dahlian and ridiculous, it inspired more outrage against their injustice than actual fear. We never doubted that Harry’s burgeoning magical skills would eventually allow him to get the better of them. The real danger came from amongst the wizards.

Yet for some reason, once Rowling shifts the action to America in the 1920s, all these established rules for Muggle and magical relations blow away like so much Floo powder.

The front story of Newt Scamander (Eddie Redmayne), the magizoologist who comes to New York with a menagerie of fantastic beasts hidden in his briefcase, has all the familiar Potter hallmarks. After he accidentally exchanges cases with a bumbling No-Mag (American slang for Muggle), a down-on-her-luck magical detective named Porpentina (Katherine Waterston) apprehends him. The chemistry between the trio as they scour the city in search of Newt’s creatures is sure to be a crowd-pleaser, and the lovable non-wizard baker (Dan Fogler) makes a welcome addition. Gellert Grindelwald, the Hitler-like precursor to Voldemort who wants to use Newt’s most terrifying beast to help him achieve world domination, is equally classic Rowling and sets up a strong foundation for the franchise going forward.

The secondary storyline, however, is far less appealing. Samantha Morton plays Mary Lou Barebone, the Puritan-like leader of a group called the “Second Salemers” that passes out tracts warning of sorcery. Her adopted children go by names like Modesty and Credence and chant unsettling rhymes about chaining and drowning witches. When some of these kids show signs of wandering from the faith, Mary Lou beats them with belts and shrieks with a fervor that would put Carrie White’s mother to shame.

There’s nothing amusing, clever, or even subtle about Mary Lou. Even less amusing is what happens when one of the children is revealed to be repressing latent magical powers. (The horror-imagery of these scenes along with minor profanity accounts for the film’s PG-13 rating). One has to wonder, from a continuity viewpoint if nothing else, what makes American witch-hunters so much more ominous than their British counterparts? Why has what was once a joke become what feels like an ugly indictment of American Christian history? Are American wizards somehow more vulnerable than European ones?

The film doesn’t spell out the subtext, but it doesn’t seem a stretch to imagine that Rowling conceived the storyline as a commentary on what she perceives as dangerous religious repression of certain sexual desires. Reports indicate that Rowling may make that a theme going forward. But if Rowling’s wry humor now turns to hectoring, relativist judgment against the faith from which she borrowed to give the Boy Who Lived his narrative arc, her wizarding world is going to become a lot less enchanting.