Rating 5/10
Warning: This review contains an unusually high number of scare quotes (“”) to indicate skepticism. Reader discretion (and a sense of irony) is advised.
It’s been nearly a decade since the team of magician-thieves known as the Four Horsemen (Jesse Eisenberg, Woody Harrelson, Dave Franco, Isla Fisher) last appeared on screen. This legacy sequel concerns a new gang of up-and-coming performers (Justice Smith, Dominic Sessa, Ariana Greenblatt). The trio pulls off a high-tech Robin Hood–style scam that steals money from a crypto bro (Andrew Santino) and gives it to their audience. Their stunt draws the attention of J. Daniel Atlas (Jesse Eisenberg), one of the original illusionists. He appears with a mysterious assignment that he claims comes from The Eye, a secret society that oversees elite magicians. The mission: steal The Heart, the world’s largest diamond, from Veronika Vanderberg (Rosamund Pike), a diamond heiress with criminal connections and a family history of laundering money for Nazis. Subtlety be damned!
Despite being the third chapter in an ongoing series, the OG Horsemen aren’t really the main focus here. At least not initially. Don’t worry. They will resurface, ostensibly to collect a paycheck. They reunite to help out, and the young trio is pulled into a massive, highly convoluted heist that makes stops in Abu Dhabi, Belgium, and Hungary. The job forces them to work together while slipping past Interpol investigators, Veronika’s private security army, and various mercenaries who conveniently materialize whenever the story needs “tension.” As the elaborate plan unfolds, it becomes clear that someone may be manipulating events and using the diamond as part of a larger scheme.
I’ll admit there is a certain relentless razzle-dazzle to the whole thing that kind of saves it. The rapid-fire dialogue, nonstop chatter, and conveyor belt of flashy gimmicks keep things lively, at least on the surface. But everything is so weightless. This franchise has never been about “real” magic; it has always relied on CGI sleight of hand and camera tricks to convey impossible feats. The problem is that what might seem impressive seen live in a Las Vegas act becomes flimsy and artificial on screen.
Take one moment where two people are talking in a room, only for the “walls” to suddenly lift and reveal themselves to be fabric curtains, exposing them on a stage in front of hundreds of spectators, all erupting in applause. I wasn’t buying it. The walls were rigid before. The crowd had been suspiciously silent. And now “Ta-da!” It was all a ruse. It’s emblematic of the film’s approach: every twist is so capricious and cartoonish that maintaining a suspension of disbelief isn’t fun. This is a chore forced by director Ruben Fleischer and four writers (Michael Lesslie, Paul Wernick, Rhett Reese, and Seth Grahame-Smith) who assume the audience has been lobotomized.
The scams rely on props, costumes, and elaborate equipment that they could not possibly have achieved within the slivers of time the plot allows. At this stage, the Horsemen have essentially evolved into superheroes controlling water, snapping people into hypnosis, chucking cards like daggers, and surviving whatever the script tosses at them. Reality has quietly excused itself from the screenplay. And that might be fine if these were likeable individuals to balance out the absurdity. But no: everyone delivers their lines with the smarmy, glib sass the script seems to equate with charm. Smugness is not an endearing personality trait.
Ironically, the only character who feels even remotely vulnerable is Rosamund Pike’s icy Veronika Vanderberg. This is not an intentional achievement evoked by a nuanced screenplay. No, rather, it’s because actress Pike is affecting a phony South African accent that I developed sympathy for her by default. I thought, “Ah, that doesn’t sound authentic. This woman is indeed human!”
Furthermore, the film is so inelegantly committed to making Veronika the Big Bad that it stacks the deck against her at every single opportunity. She’s the underdog in this narrative construct. I started rooting for her (and against the movie) out of sheer contrarianism. Naturally, that is a losing game. She is predictably thwarted, which isn’t a spoiler because every saga in this franchise always ends the same. Some ridiculous twist is presented and then explained in an even more nonsensical way. The final “reveal” is based on logic rooted in fantasy and only raises more questions.
By the time Mark Ruffalo’s legacy character Dylan Rhodes arrives to tease a future chapter, the film has already emptied itself of meaning. The appearance of the former FBI agent and grandmaster of the Eye is treated as “important.” However, anyone new to this cinematic universe will have no idea why. He just pops up, as if the filmmakers expect audiences to applaud on command because, hey, remember him? His cameo is another slap in the face, the last reminder that this picture is first and foremost a commodity designed to tease you into buying a ticket for the next installment. The picture concludes as it has unfolded for 112 minutes, an empty display of hollow “magic.” The spectacle keeps insisting it has something up its sleeve. Unfortunately, it’s nothing but air.
11-13-25