As you peruse this from The Future, the fate of us all is unknown to me. You could, at this moment, be congregating with Stockard Channing and Sandra Bullock in your lounge, uttering incantations to resurrect your sister. Or envisaging a terrifying scenario of ER celebrity Goran Višnjić surging out from the underbelly of the Earth, his eyes filled with lethal intent. You declare “Blood on the moon” in a panic-stricken voice, whilst your feline companion, stricken with fear, bolts underneath the dining table.
Indeed, time to revitalise your magic brooms and lubricate your amphibians, for it’s the return of the uncanny and the oozy, with the Owens sisters cruising back into our existence.
It’s no random occurrence that in the very same week, the Strawberry Moon week, the announcement was made of the most significant revival of our era. Practical Magic Two.
In my childhood, at eleven, it seemed preordained that witches would provide a soothing influence. Our recent relocation to an isolated rural area made the roles of witch and writer resonate perfectly with me.
Both roles require a courageous commitment to evoking something from our common-daily-life moments, contrasting them to phenomenal phenomena like a blood moon, and witnessing their ignition and transformation into novel narratives and fresh tales. This type of metamorphosis only arises when the present, cherished recollections of the past, and anticipation of something novel unite. Narration and its governance is in the possession of any individual who is inspired enough to look beyond oneself and connect to concepts of significance: community, kinship and human condition. In my opinion, this is why stereotypical characters are so fearful of witches – everyone yearns for control under the mistaken belief that it will guard against life’s hardships, yet adversity continues to occur.
In the film, a memorable quote is spoken by Stockard Channing’s character, Aunt Frances, targeted at her niece, Sally, played by Sandra Bullock. Sally, dressed in a style that suggests the making of a future Ms Congeniality, states her earnest desire for a normal life, amidst her distinctly 1990s attire. Her wish for normalcy is glaringly obvious.
Aunt Frances, however, is garbed in a Victorian outfit, accessorised with an oversized, flappy hat and a parasol. She responds to Sally’s wish in a manner worthy of being legendary, stating, “My darling girl, when are you going to understand that being normal is hardly a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage.”
This line resonates strongly with me on a personal level. As a child who always felt different, I empathised with the witches in the narrative who were burdened with weighty responsibilities associated with power, healing and hope from an early age. Early on, I had to grapple with life-altering decisions – a burden I bore similar to having a regiment for unexpected curveballs life throws. This unusual responsibility seemed like a protective blessing. To add to this, I too had an aunt Frances in my life, and the outfits of the characters, a combination of long skirts, cami tops and cardigans, could be found in Pennys… it was almost magical.
Post Aunt Frances’s iconic dialogue in the film, another aunt, Jet, personated by Diane West, elucidates the concealed intricacies of the townsfolk. Essentially, she lists out the imperfections of each individual on the streets, a scene where the quote – Mother is mothering – makes sense.
I couldn’t help but draw parallels between the occurrences in the small town of Maria’s Island, Massachusetts, and my birthplace, Newbridge, Co Kildare.
The announcement of “Practical Magic Two” stirred reactions, with YouTuber Graeme O’Neill labeling the first instalment a “comedy drama romance fantasy,” and suggesting it was a setback in Bullock’s career. His criticism was aimed at the box office earnings, as Practical Magic only managed to rake in $68 million (€63 million), which fell short against its production cost of $75 million.
The essence of the film, ‘Practical Magic’ revolves around the profound connection shared by two women, capable of withstanding any adversity thrown their way. The strength of this bond is evident right from the onset, from playground jibes of “Witch, witch, you’re a bitch” to the trials of their youth, the horrors of domestic violence and the power harnessed when a community unites. The film, in truth, is a tribute to love in its multitude forms – the bond between sisters, familial and romantic love, affection between aunts and nieces, and the extraordinary lengths one would go to attain it.
Early on when Sally’s gaze meets that of her lover in the crowded marketplace, onlookers bear witness to a fiery passion between the two, encapsulated in a flurry of kisses and accompanied by Faith Hill’s hit of the nineties, ‘This Kiss’. This for a pair of 11-year-olds back in 1998, set unrealistic expectations from similar encounters. I was fortunate to experience the movie for the first time with my cousin, with her strawberry blonde hair reminiscent of Nicole Kidman’s. During the 90s, the representation of redheads in mainstream media was scarce, prior to the arrival of personalities like Amy Adams, Jessica Chastain or Lindsay Lohan, preceding the chant of the Halliwell sisters – “The power of three will set us free”, even before Willow and Tara’s Salem Saberhagen attempted world domination.
The magic of ‘Practical Magic’ is comparable to the sheer energy and coherence that writing workshops manage to weave amidst life’s unending uncertainty. The film heralds that all of us possess power in absolute measure, which can be harnessed through love and community solidarity. The film punctuated its narrative with certain profound teachings; toss the salt, accidentally spilt, over your left shoulder. Plant rosemary by your gate, sprinkle pepper on your mashed potatoes. Cultivate roses and lavender for luck and, above all else, seize every opportunity to fall in love.