Sitting befuddled and muggled through all 130 minutes of Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, I finally understood how my non-comic-book-reading friends feel when they go to Marvel movies.
The run-on never ends, either; the final scenes are more ellipsis than period, with a cliffhanger designed to be continued in the next Fantastic Beasts.
Only the hardest of hardcore Potterheads could derive pleasure from this hodgepodge of arcane wizard lore, clunky setpieces, and miscellaneous, franchise-prolonging misery.
The established order wants to protect the status quo, while a populist mage named Grindelwald (Johnny Depp) begins accumulating followers in the hopes of enslaving humanity.