‘Now You See Me, Now You Don’t’ Review: A Familiar Magic Act with a New Generation

In the terminology of the film industry, there is a relatively recent expression that helps explain movies like Now You See Me, Now You Don’t. They are known as “legacy sequels.” The idea behind the term is simple enough: a sequel that returns to a story or cinematic universe many years later, bringing back familiar characters and pairing them with new protagonists in a narrative that is supposed to work both as a continuation and as a passing of the torch. Strictly speaking, Now You See Me, Now You Don’t never quite becomes one. It borrows some of the gestures of the legacy sequel—the return of recognizable faces alongside new ones—but without fully embracing the logic of “legacy” itself. There is no sweeping generational handoff here, just a blending of the old and the new.

What has not changed much is the type of movie this franchise wants to be. Ten years may have passed since the second installment, but the series continues to rely on the same elements that once worked so well. As the saying goes, you do not tamper with success, and there is little reason to fix what is not broken. Beyond a few differences tied to a change of director and a decade’s worth of technological advances, this third film is not radically different from its predecessors. That said, the introduction of three new protagonists suggests that, with a fourth installment already announced, the balance may continue to shift in the future.

Using deception as their calling card, the three new illusionists are first introduced as devoted fans of the Horsemen, the group of magicians known for committing elaborate heists during their performances, often redistributing their ill-gotten gains to the audience. Through a holographic ruse, they fake a reunion of the original Four Horsemen in order to steal money from the corrupt founder of a cryptocurrency. When they arrive at their hideout, however, they realize that J. Daniel Atlas (Jesse Eisenberg), the group’s leader, has seen through their tricks. His intention is not to expose them, but to recruit them for a job he has been offered.

The new magicians are Bosco (Dominic Sessa, the breakout of The Holdovers), Charlie (Justice Smith), and June (Ariana Greenblatt). Atlas convinces them to join a new assignment from The Eye, the mysterious secret society that orchestrates the Horsemen’s activities. This time, the target is the Heart, the largest diamond in the world, owned by Veronika Vanderberg (Rosamund Pike, sporting a wildly exaggerated South African accent), a jewelry mogul with murky finances and predictably dubious intentions.

The intricate operation unfolds in Antwerp, Belgium, where the group runs into a series of complications—and discovers that the original Horsemen have also been summoned for the same mission. Merritt McKinney (Woody Harrelson), Jack Wilder (Dave Franco), and Henley Reeves (Isla Fisher) reunite after a period of estrangement. After the heist, the expanded group gathers in an impressively constructed magical castle to plan their next move, joined as well by Thaddeus Bradley (Morgan Freeman), the mentor and patriarchal figure of the saga. This is where things truly start to spiral.

The plot is, unsurprisingly, a compilation of tricks and deceptions—magicians deceiving one another, deceiving civilians, and, above all, screenwriters deceiving the audience. We are constantly led to believe we are seeing one thing when, in fact, something else is happening beneath the surface. Some of these twists make a certain kind of sense; others are entirely arbitrary, and viewers will have to decide whether to go along with them or not. The film moves quickly enough that one tends to accept its turns without asking too many questions, but the truth is that very little of what happens holds up if examined for more than a few seconds.

That, however, is not really a problem here. Anyone familiar with the franchise knows that the sheer absurdity of its tricks is part of the appeal. In that respect, the formula still works—more or less. What the army of screenwriters and the various directors involved in the saga (Louis Leterrier, Jon M. Chu, and now Ruben Fleischer) have never quite managed to solve is how to avoid devoting half the runtime to explanations, exposition, and convoluted plans that the characters—especially Atlas—endlessly spell out for one another. Much like Stranger Things, the plots hinge on absurd and capricious ideas that take great effort for the characters to explain, for the audience to understand, and even more effort to justify logically. Whether they actually work becomes almost beside the point.

While no longer occupying the absolute center of the narrative, the original cast still carries the film, even as key moments are handed over to the younger characters. The Horsemen remain irreplaceable, since much of the series’ charm lies in their verbal sparring, mutual irritation, and playful infighting. The younger magicians contribute their share—generational differences are, in fact, a recurring source of irritation for Harrelson’s character—but one is left with the impression that what truly holds these increasingly tangled stories together is the sheer conviction Eisenberg and company bring to the surrounding absurdity. In the end, that may be the only magic trick that really matters.