Maleficent: Mistress of Evil review – Fantasy fluff distracts from a glorious clash between Angelina Jolie and Michelle Pfeiffer

The dark fae’s origin story gobbles up much of the film’s running time, as it throws out character development in favour of gratuitous world-building and a CGI-laden, bloated battle sequence

Dir: Joachim Rønning. Starring: Angelina Jolie, Elle Fanning, Michelle Pfeiffer, Harris Dickinson, Sam Riley, and Chiwetel Ejiofor. PG cert, 118 mins

It’s been five years since Angelina Jolie strapped on a pair of horns and scowled her way through Disney’s Maleficent. Though the film came and went without much fanfare (beyond a hefty worldwide gross of $758m), it’s remained one of the stronger entries in the studio’s ever-expanding line of live-action remakes. Its characters feel genuine. So, too, does its underlying message.

A sly feminist makeover of Sleeping Beauty, the film posited that its villain wasn’t much of a villain at all, but a woman whose trust had been violated in the most destructive of ways. Once upon a time, it began, Maleficent was a fairy whose wings had been cut from her back by an old lover – in a scene that dealt allegorically with sexual assault, without crossing the line into anything distasteful. It was a film that spoke to something real, far beyond the world of magic and fairytale.

The same could be said of its follow-up, Maleficent: Mistress of Evil, but only if you’ve got the endurance to sit through the inevitable – and no less tedious – attempt to give the character her own superhero-style origin story. It happens far too often with sequels: instead of adding depth to an existing world, they attempt to stretch its horizons as far as possible. All you get in return is a baggy mess of narrative threads.

The film, directed by Joachim Rønning, starts on a promising note: Prince Philip (Harris Dickinson, replacing Brenton Thwaites) has finally popped the question to Aurora (Elle Fanning). And so, naturally, the boy’s parents – King John (Robert Lindsay) and Queen Ingrith (Michelle Pfeiffer) – invite Maleficent, who raised Aurora, for a celebratory feast.

Yet Ingrith has ulterior motives up her voluminous, pearl-encrusted sleeves (Ellen Mirojnick’s costumes here are exquisite). She’s pushing every single one of Maleficent’s buttons: dismissing her fellow fairy folk, while enthusing about the fact Aurora will finally have a real mother. These moments are delicious, dripping with venom and laced with just the right amount of camp. Pfeiffer’s inclusion, in fact, is a small stroke of genius. She’s an ideal sparring partner for Jolie, who flexes so magnificently in her return as Maleficent, giving her character a half-thawed heart and a haughty elegance.

The clash between these women would have been enough to carry the film, though it helps that many of the performances here are so strong – Fanning is angelic, while Sam Riley and Jenn Murray have fun with what they’re given as Maleficent’s exasperated bird-man sidekick and Ingrith’s steely commander respectively.

Was anyone ever interested in where Maleficent came from, though? Mistress of Evil certainly seems to think so, as the film takes a sudden dive into the rough, wild lands of endless exposition. She meets the dark fae – an exiled community whose entire vibe screams James Cameron’s Avatar – and is forced to listen as Chiwetel Ejiofor’s Conall drones on about their history. You discover how they connect to Maleficent’s past.

It’s this plot that ends up gobbling up much of the film’s running time, as it throws out character development in favour of gratuitous world-building and a CGI-laden, bloated battle sequence. In the end, both Pfeiffer and Jolie’s talents end up going to waste. Maleficent may have offered a sharp, original take on a well-worn story, but its sequel just feels like more fantasy fluff.