Magic never dies — it simply waits for the right moon to rise again. Hocus Pocus 3: Rise of the Coven (2025) resurrects the wicked charm and mischievous heart of the beloved Sanderson Sisters for one final, spellbinding ride through the shadows of Salem. It’s a film that knows exactly what it is: wickedly funny, hauntingly nostalgic, and unexpectedly emotional. The magic feels both familiar and fierce — older, wiser, and far more dangerous.

Decades after the last resurrection, Salem has become a town that turned its curse into a carnival. Tourists flood its cobblestone streets, eager for selfies and ghost tours. But beneath the laughter lies a restless stirring — a whisper in the woods, a candle that burns when it shouldn’t. When three teenage girls stumble upon an ancient grimoire — older than Winifred’s own — the line between legend and reality blurs once more. The coven is calling.
Bette Midler, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Kathy Najimy return as the Sanderson Sisters with the same electric chemistry that made them icons. Yet time has deepened their magic. Midler’s Winifred is more complex than ever — still flamboyant, still ferocious, but haunted by the loneliness of immortality. Parker’s Sarah remains delightfully unhinged, a songbird of chaos, while Najimy’s Mary continues to steal scenes with her earthy humor and loyal heart. Their banter is pure cinematic comfort — like a spell we didn’t realize we missed.

New blood breathes fresh energy into the story. Jenna Ortega shines as Rowan, a descendant of one of the original Salem witches who must decide whether to destroy magic or embrace it. Her performance anchors the film’s emotional weight — a bridge between old myth and modern rebellion. Alongside her, Jacob Tremblay brings innocence and wonder to a town too used to pretending. Together, they carry the story’s new heart: the choice to honor power without letting it consume you.
Director Anne Fletcher returns with a more mature, atmospheric vision — still bursting with humor, but cloaked in richer shadows. The cinematography captures Salem like never before: candlelight flickering against ancient gravestones, fog curling around iron fences, the moon hanging low and watchful. Each frame feels like a painting of autumn’s melancholy.
The film’s magic sequences are dazzling yet grounded in emotional truth. When the Sandersons rise again, it’s not with a cackle, but with a sigh — a moment both grand and tragic. Their power hums through the air, playful and deadly. Spells shimmer in blue fire, potions glow like liquid stars, and the broomstick chase across the harvest fair might be one of the most joyous sequences of the entire series.

But Rise of the Coven dares to ask what happens when legends grow tired. For the first time, the sisters question their purpose. Are they villains, or victims of history? There’s poignancy beneath the laughter — a reflection on sisterhood, legacy, and the weight of being remembered only for fear.
The score, once again echoing John Debney’s original themes, merges mischief with melancholy. Choral chants weave through modern orchestration, and Sarah’s lullaby returns — slower, softer, almost like a farewell. The soundtrack feels alive, breathing with the same energy that makes the film’s world pulse with enchantment.
By the time the final act unfolds under a blood-red moon, the tone shifts from comedy to myth. The Sanderson Sisters face a choice: eternal life or eternal peace. Their decision — quiet, beautiful, and deeply human — turns Hocus Pocus 3 from a Halloween romp into something enduring. When the spellbook finally closes, it feels like the curtain falling on an era.
In its final moments, a candle flickers out, and Salem exhales. The laughter fades, but the legend remains — whispered by children in costume, sung by witches under the stars. Rise of the Coven is both a love letter and a goodbye, a reminder that even the darkest magic can hold a little light.
⭐ Rating: ★★★★½ — A heartfelt, enchanting finale. The sisters may vanish with the dawn, but their magic will live forever.