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 (102706) The Yari Film Group scored a big art-house hit
earlier this fall with The Illusionist, a thriller about a 19th-century stage
magician who was more than he appeared. It is a handsomely crafted film with
lofty ambitions and a movie I enjoyed quite a bit. The Prestige being a much
bigger film, backed by a pair of major studios and featuring more bankable stars
is a film of even greater imagination.
Credit for that lies largely with director Christopher Nolan, who approaches his
projects with a dark vision that I find utterly irresistible. He wanders through
the shadows of human desire and ambition, coloring his observations with mordant
wit that staves off the despair to which they might otherwise succumb. Showbiz
illusion makes a natural fit for him -- indeed, he understands as few others how
much film has in common with it -- and Christopher Priest's source novel sets a
banquet uniquely suited to his sensibilities. It centers on the bitter enmity
between two rival performers, once friends apprenticed under the same man, but
now poisoned by jealousy and recrimination. Alfred Borden (Christian Bale) is a
master of technique, grasping sleight-of-hand mechanics with unparalleled
insight. Robert Angier (Hugh Jackman) is less physically adept, but makes up for
it with supremely charismatic stage presence -- something that his counterpart
never quite got the hang of. Both have good reason to despise one another.
Borden's arrogance once triggered an accident that cost Angier dear, leading to
an act of vengeance that threatened to cripple Borden's performing abilities for
good. The two survived and went on to successful careers, but the seeds of hate
were planted deep, and now the good things in their lives mean nothing when
compared to the prospect of destroying each other.
But if the motives are understandable, then the methods are positively
Byzantine. I can't divulge too much of the pair's respective moves and
countermoves, for the slow reveal of each one forms a large part of the film's
appeal. Suffice it to say that each man knows the secrets of their profession
well enough to make things truly miserable for his foe. In their efforts, they
pull peripheral players into the web, including a pretty assistant (Scarlett
Johansson) sent by Angier to spy on Borden (or is it the other way around?) and
an old stage hand (Michael Caine) who acts as a Greek chorus for the
proceedings. The plot grows intensely complicated (the posters aren't kidding
when they admonish you to watch closely) and sometimes strains credibility (fake
beards come into play a little too often), but faithful viewers will be richly
rewarded by the clever ingenuity on display.
It helps that the two characters at the core of the story are so compelling, and
that the culture they inhabit is so uniquely twisted. Angier and Borden begin as
ambitious but basically decent men; as the film proceeds, their vindictive
campaigns against each other transform them into genuinely nasty pieces of work.
The Prestige meditates thoughtfully on how much their chosen profession
influences such behavior. Physical danger loomed for all illusionists of the
time -- even straightforward tricks could lead to mutilation or worse (animal
lovers be warned: it doesn't go well for the living props here) -- and success
requires a certain recklessness that can obliterate one's moral compass. Indeed,
the illusionist's audience shares some of that viciousness, since a tiny part of
every spectator hopes to see something go horribly, fatally wrong. To survive
and prosper in this environment, one must hold tight to the secrets of one's
craft; revealing how one does it not only spoils the trick (since it's often
nothing more than knowing which part of the stage holds the trap door) but may
give rivals the means to end one's career for good. The combination of
calculated risk and practiced deception bleeds over into both men's lives,
exacting an ever-greater cost until their obsession with each other is all that
matters. When Borden produces a seemingly impossible feat -- "teleporting" from
one side of the stage to the other in a manner that confounds explanation --
Angier endeavors to top him by entering the realm of the truly blasphemous.
Nolan keeps it all together with the same tricks that have made his previous
films such joys: deft story development and focus upon character. Like
Memento,
The Prestige utilizes a complex editing style, segueing back and forth between
eras to create a cinematic texture of misdirection and revelation (kudos to
editor Lee Smith for an extraordinary job). The results draw us close to the
central figures, than lets us watch in rapt fascination as their wounds and
desires drag them down. A few sore thumbs stick out -- places where plausibility
strains or the twists become repetitive -- but like the characters on-screen,
Nolan is so good at guiding our attention elsewhere that we soon forget such
quibbles. His leading men give him plenty of help. Bale's knack for evoking the
dark side is well established, but it's sublime watching Jackman turn his
immense charm towards sinister ends (this is easily his best film performance to
date). Both make excellent use not only of their characters' strengths, but also
their fears and insecurities, which retain a kernel of humanity even as they
seek new parts of their souls to sell.
The Prestige rises still higher by merging its cinematic structure with the
culture of illusion presented in its story. Obviously, the desire for fame and
fortune still drives cinema's icons just as fiercely as Borden and Angier (and
has equally devastating results), but more fundamentally, the moving picture
arose during the same era of Edwardian mysticism. Its vaudeville origins, the
plasticity of its images, and the presence of pioneers like Georges Méliès
(himself a stage magician) all mirror the dark compulsions of the characters.
Indeed, the entire medium depends upon an optical illusion -- the persistence of
vision convincing us that successive images actually appear to move. Nolan
brilliantly uses both the technical structure and the trappings of genre to
illustrate that connection, aping the same dark sleight-of-hand exercised by his
tragic protagonists. The Prestige earns high praise as a terrific historical
thriller, but also because it grasps the medium's links to this subject so
uncannily well -- just like Welles, Hitchcock, and all those other great
magicians whose ranks Nolan is well on his way to joining.
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