Autumn Classics: Practical Magic
Examining one of the best three-completely-different-movies of 1998

As the days shorten and decorative gourds inexplicably start populating the tables of trendy restaurants and your artsy friend’s apartment, many of us love to get cozy with movies that evoke the spirit of the season. This month, Ken Lowe is remembering four Autumn Classics. Be sure to get caught up with our looks at Halloween, The Nightmare Before Christmas, and Hocus Pocus.
I’ve tried to figure out how one humble internet scribe can possibly encapsulate the phenomenon that was Practical Magic in one lowly article, and it turns out that this is impossible. It is impossible because this beloved tale of sisterhood and forbidden magic and botanicals, with a deep bench of some of Hollywood’s most commanding female performers, is actually three different movies (though they are all directed with the same eye for homey aesthetic pleasures and are pushed into the PG-13 territory due to only one or two scenes of endangerment and bodily ickiness).
’Tis the season to engage in dark and forgotten magics, my children, and so I will attempt the cursèd art of fleshcrafting necessary to unite these three disparate artistic visions into one dark and unhallowed whole, in honor of their 20th birthday. Bring me my grimoire and cauldron (the 40-gallon, please).
The Tale of Two Sisters
Practical Magic is one part feel-good sisterhood drama, and when that’s what you’re aiming for, you could do worse than casting Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman right when they were both just entering into true Hollywood mega-stardom. Sally (Bullock) and Gillian (Kidman) become orphaned at a young age when their father dies unexpectedly and their mother dies of a broken heart. Their aunts, (Stockard Channing and Diane Wiest in full whimsical white magic witch mode) raise them on tales of their family’s witch pedigree. It turns out that a distant ancestor was denounced as a witch.
The opening makes us think she’s destined to be murdered at the gallows before a hard-hearted crowd of ignorant townsfolk, but it turns out that a little thing like a public execution isn’t that hard to stop when you’re, you know, a really powerful witch. When her love life takes a tragic turn, she casts a spell upon herself, barring her from ever being hurt by love again. Unfortunately she performed it too well, and it becomes a curse upon all subsequent generations of her family—the daughters of her daughters will fall in love with hunky dudes and then hear the shriek of the deathwatch beetle, the harbinger of their devoted husband’s untimely deaths. (It’s kind of hard for me to reconcile this with the affectionate tone Channing and Wiest refer to this great grandmother witch with—do the actions of our parents not already cockblock us enough while they’re alive that they need to put a post-mortem curse in place as well?)
As an aside, this sets up one of the things I find the most admirable about Practical Magic, namely that its magic is imprecise and rooted not just in the checklist of icky ingredients and weird ministrations necessary to make it work, but also the emotion and intent of its casters. No spell is ever straightforward in the movie, which is a great underlying decision.
The movie proper begins after this tale, and we see that young Sally and Gillian are taunted and physically assaulted by the townsfolk as witches. This apparently has been going on for hundreds of years. Prompted to consider how love will one day inevitably wreck their whole lives, Sally casts a spell which will call her true love to her, but purposely overloads the mystical Boolean search with qualifiers which must surely select out every possible human male. (It does not. It totally brings Mr. Right to her, but we’ll get to that.) It’s a pretty obvious gun on the mantle, but it’s also a cute scene grounded in believably innocent childhood logic.
Quickly enough, we flash forward to the girls in full Bullock & Kidman mode, and witness Sally becoming the homebody and Gillian running off for a fun and sexy life of trouble, drugs and boy-craziness. Sally falls for the blandest of local men and soon has two daughters of her own by him. Everything is looking great, when she hears that damn beetle. Out of nowhere, her husband is run down in the street. (I want to know what the going rate is for the rent-an-oblivious-driver service Hollywood uses to randomly dispose of loving family members or kids in Final Destination movies.)
Gillian comes back to be with her bedbound sister in her grief as her two daughters (Alexandra Artrip and Evan Rachel Wood!!!!). This is the point where the movie looks like it’s going to be about Sally getting her witchy groove back, learning how to move on from tragedy and really embrace her family’s roots as a practitioner of the wholesome dark arts.