Film There have been surprisingly few major films about magic and the business of performing magic in particular. Most embrace the supernatural approach or use the process as a jumping off point for the ensuing comedy or drama. Woody Allen has used stage magic three times, most memorably in Oedipus Wrecks (his section of New York Stories), were the disappearance of his volunteering mother led to her appearance above New York with the expected hilarious consequences and therapy sessions. More often than not illusionists are knocked off the bill by ventriloquists, psychics or practitioners of the art of hypnosis. What's surprising about Christopher Nolan's The Prestige (an adaptation of Christopher Priest's novel) is not only that the business, at least in the late Victorian era version is presented in some detail, but also the mechanics of the tricks themselves. Their intricacies and the ingenuity of the trick designers, whose work is at the centre of this gripping thriller.
Stunningly, the narrative itself is something of a magic trick. Here, director Nolan continues his experimentations with storytelling and editing that were apparent in Following, Momento and even Batman Begins, restricting information all over the place and leading the audience on exciting, surprising adventure in which their deductive reasoning is tested in a form that is cleverly suggested within the film's own dialogue. As Michael Caine's Cutter notes, for the audience to believe in true magic, enough of the working must be left showing so that the audience always thinks it can work it out. The title refers to the moment at the end of the magic trick when the illusion is completed to the applause of that audience (the jargon the work of author Priest not history)
At the simplest level it's the story of two London-based magicians Alfred (Hugh Jackman) and Freddy (Christian Bale) attempting to out do one another through the performance of magic, an early accident leading to a tit-for-tat obsession in which one or the other must be victorious at all costs, the prize being the exaltation of the audience. The premise is complicated by an intricate storytelling structure in which flashbacks and voiceovers pile on top of one another, disorientating the viewer to the time scheme of events. It's 21 Grams, marinating in Six Degrees of Separation.
There's a fine cast here with Jackman extending his range and Bale turning in yet another effective performance. As their enmity develops, their characters are guilty of some unspeakable acts, and it's to the credit of both performers that they remain sympathetic throughout the business. Michael Caine is as dependable as ever and although there's been some criticism that Scarlett Johansson as the roaming assistant isn't firing on all cylinders, she's actually doing what a supporting player should do - be just remarkable enough without stealing scenes away from the stars. If Rebecca Hall's naturalistic performance as Bale's wife seems to have crept in from a different film, it's a pleasure to see Piper Perabo in another small role but vital role and full marks to English accent which beats Johansson's attempt.
One of the film's great successes is the photography. Nolan's film begins as a chamber piece that develops into something with a much larger scope and while some of the interiors have a conventionality to them, there are moments as lavish as anything I've seen in cinema. The lighting in particular seems to take its cue from key scenes in F W Murneau's 1927 film Sunrise, in which apparent lanterns are often the only light source creating a ghostly mood in which anything could potentially happen. And does.
To write anything else would spoil the mysteries that develop and the fragile hold that Nolan has on you as he drives toward's the film's own moment of prestige. The only real criticism is that he perhaps spends just too long getting there, provides a smidge too much information and risks the possibility that wilier members of the audience will be able to twig that mystery. Thankfully, the whole production is sumptuous and intelligent enough to engross. There's a commentary in here about old fashioned thrills have been stifled by the clamor for spectacle that could bespeak of film history itself. And even when all of its secrets have been revealed, against expectations, revisiting the piece will allow the viewer to see through Nolan's smoke and mirror.
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