There is something deeply satisfying about watching a child prodigy grow into her power, and MATILDA 2: THE WORMWOOD REVENGE (2026) understands that satisfaction intimately. This sequel does not merely revisit nostalgia; it elevates it, asking what becomes of a brilliant little girl once she has outgrown the classroom that once confined her.

Mara Wilson returns as Matilda Wormwood, now an inspirational professor whose quiet strength radiates far beyond telekinesis. She no longer moves objects out of desperation; she moves minds with intention. Wilson plays her with warmth and intellectual grace, portraying a woman who has transformed childhood resilience into purposeful leadership.
The film opens in a university lecture hall filled with bright, misunderstood students — the kind society often overlooks. Matilda dedicates herself to nurturing their gifts, offering the empathy she once craved. The early scenes shimmer with optimism, suggesting that education, when rooted in compassion, can become a revolution in itself.

But the past, as always, has unfinished business. Danny DeVito and Rhea Perlman storm back into the story as Harry and Zinnia Wormwood, gloriously chaotic and hilariously self-serving. Their attempt to exploit Matilda’s success for fame and profit injects the film with sharp comedy, yet beneath the farce lies a familiar ache — the sting of parental inadequacy.
Embeth Davidtz returns with quiet dignity, anchoring the emotional core of the narrative. Her presence reminds us that mentorship and chosen family often shape us more profoundly than blood ties ever could. The contrast between nurturing guidance and reckless ambition sharpens the film’s central conflict.
The true antagonist, however, arrives in the form of a chilling educational reformer determined to standardize brilliance into submission. In his sterile vision of schooling, creativity is disruptive and individuality dangerous. Classrooms become rigid, imagination discouraged, and fear institutionalized.

It is here that the film blossoms into spectacle. Matilda’s powers reawaken not in anger, but in defense. Desks glide across polished floors, books whirl like loyal guardians, and chalk dances across boards in defiant poetry. The magic feels less like fantasy and more like metaphor — a visual embodiment of intellectual freedom pushing back against oppression.
Yet the most powerful transformation belongs not to Matilda, but to her students. Once hesitant and self-doubting, they begin to find their voices. The sequel wisely shifts focus from solitary genius to collective empowerment, suggesting that true leadership lies in lifting others.
Visually vibrant and tonally balanced, the film weaves whimsy with urgency. It captures the glow of imagination while confronting contemporary anxieties about education, conformity, and control. The humor never undercuts the stakes; instead, it makes the message more accessible and resonant.
At its heart, The Wormwood Revenge is not about revenge at all. It is about reclamation — reclaiming identity, reclaiming joy in learning, reclaiming the courage to question authority. Intelligence, the film insists, is most powerful when guided by kindness.
By its final moments, MATILDA 2 leaves us with a simple yet profound truth: power is not domination, but elevation. Matilda no longer needs to prove her brilliance. She proves something greater — that when knowledge is paired with empathy, it becomes unstoppable.