When Disney adapted Artemis Fowl to the screen, the promise was bold: the story of a twelve-year-old genius criminal mastermind, pitting his intellect against the hidden world of the fairies. But instead of a razor-sharp cat-and-mouse tale, the movie offered a muddled spectacle. Fairies appeared as high-tech soldiers, their magic reduced to gadgets. Artemis acted less like a manipulator and more like a wide-eyed boy thrust into an adventure. And yet, in the final scene, he called himself a “criminal mastermind.” The words rang hollow. Nothing in his journey justified that title.
The problem was fundamental: the movie could not decide who was right or wrong, who acted justly or unjustly. The fairies seemed villainous one moment and sympathetic the next. Artemis was painted as sincere, even likable, befriending a fairy to reach a happy ending. But sincerity and friendship are the exact opposites of what the premise promised. By softening him, the film robbed Artemis of his defining arc.
Why the Book Worked and the Movie Did Not
In Eoin Colfer’s book, Artemis is no hero. He is manipulative, arrogant, and willing to cross moral lines. The tension comes from watching someone so young act with the cunning of a hardened criminal. Readers are pulled between admiration and unease. In the movie, however, this edge was dulled. By making Artemis sympathetic from the start, the story never earned his final declaration of being a “criminal mastermind”. The result was tonal dissonance — a happy ending wearing the mask of a dark one.
Giving Artemis the Proper Path
If Artemis Fowl is to conclude his story as a criminal mastermind, the tale must lead him there naturally. It begins by recognizing that intelligence alone is not enough. A boy who is smart from the start but untested needs flaws that put him at risk. For Artemis, arrogance and smugness would be his blind spots — the very traits that land him in trouble as he sets out to rescue his father.
But to make that rescue matter, his father must not be an innocent victim. Artemis Sr. should be guilty of something immoral, perhaps stealing something sacred or breaking a pact with the fairies. At first, Artemis Jr. would not know this, believing his father’s capture unjust. That belief fuels his determination, even as his arrogance blinds him to the dangers ahead.
The Dark Revelation
At his lowest point, Artemis Jr. would be captured himself. This is where most heroes are humbled, forced to learn humility and rely on others. But Artemis is not most heroes. In captivity, he would uncover the truth: his father’s plight was the result of criminal acts. There is no lawful or noble way out. If he wishes to save his father — and himself — he must resort to the tools of a true mastermind: manipulation, lying, and promise-breaking.
This is the moment the title “criminal mastermind” becomes earned. Not a boy playing at cleverness, but one who makes the conscious choice to weaponize his intellect in morally shady ways. Where his father faltered by trying to play both sides, Artemis Jr. doubles down, committing fully to the criminal path.
Reimagining the Fairies
To polish the story further, the confusion around the “tech fairies” must go. The movie’s choice to turn fairies into gadget-wielding soldiers was lazy — a shortcut to ride on familiar lore while gutting it of meaning. Instead, the fairies should be written as something richer: hybrids of fairy and human, or perhaps the remnants of an ancient race of intelligent builders who once shaped the great monuments of the world. Sensitive to sunlight, they live underground, emerging only at night. This grounds their culture in mystery and depth, making them more than props for the plot.
The Proper Ending
Such a reimagined story would not need to force a happy resolution. Instead, it would allow Artemis to stand where the book intended him: victorious, yes, but tainted. He wins by cheating the rules, not by befriending his enemies. He leaves not a boy pretending to be a mastermind, but a mastermind forged by revelation and choice — the boy who chose the shadows when the light failed him.
Thank you,
Ira