One of those movies about teenagers in which the youngest actor is 21 at the time of filming and the oldest 29. Screenwriter Peter Filardi previously served up the hoohah that was Flatliners (1990). The Craft is better than that, though it's still mostly hoohah when it come to representing this sort of magic.
Well, we don't want the kids at home trying to practice REAL magic, do we? The god 'Manon' who keeps getting name-checked is an invention of Filardi's, possibly just after he saw Manon of the Spring at the local art-house theatre.
The Craft is hilariously afflicted with a terrible slate of cover songs of classic New Wave and 1980's material. This is the most horrifying thing about the movie.
The movie takes full advantage of Fairuza Balk's unusually broad and flexible face, sometimes to cruel extents that suggest she's auditioning to be the next Joker. Robin Tunney is too bland to make an engaging protagonist, but here she is. It's certainly interesting to see any Hollywood movie in which the few male characters are relegated to supporting parts, though. Lightly recommended.
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