The Illusionist
I have another movie to add to my “Top 10 Films of 2006” (list forthcoming once I see a few more DVDs): Neil Burger’s The Illusionist. I liked it tremendously—so much so that I even listened to the whole commentary track (featuring Burger, who both wrote and directed the film) right after watching the movie.
The Illusionist reminds me in tone of an Isak Dinesen story: it’s sumptuous, romantic, and yet raises key philosophical and spiritual questions. Most of all, it addresses the power and mystery of stories—and stories within stories—as a kind of magic.
In his commentary, Burger reveals that the short story (“Eisenheim the Illusionist”) on which the film is based is much more philosophical in tone: Eisenheim, a conjurer in Vienna around 1900, is arrested for blurring the distinction between reality/truth and fiction/illusion. Burger wanted to keep that thematic element, but he also wanted a more cinematic story, and so he added the central political (and philosophical and personal) conflict with Crown Prince Leopold, as well as the romantic interest with Sophie, the Duchess von Teschen (which, when pronounced with a Viennese accent, sounds a lot like “Duchess Fantasia”). Leopold, played by my dear favorite Rufus Sewell (who always seems to land Hollywood roles as jealous villains or revolutionary radicals), is really central to this treatment of the story, because he is a worthy intellectual adversary for Eisenheim. He’s a lout and a boor, but he’s a highly intelligent lout and boor. He, as the rationalist foil to Eisenheim’s man of mystery, can’t stand not knowing the mechanics of how Eisenheim’s “tricks” are accomplished.
Burger also beefed up the character of Chief Inspector Uhl (Paul Giamatti), who is mentioned only in passing in the short story. He’s Crown Prince Leopold’s flunky, but he demonstrates a childlike enthusiasm for learning the inner workings of magic. And sometimes, unlike Leopold, he would prefer to suspend disbelief and enjoy the illusion. Since he narrates the story, this feature of his personality is really important.
Edward Norton, as Eisenheim, does an incredible job of acting in this movie. Throughout the entire thing, he has to allow for two simultaneous readings of what’s going on: is his magic real, or is it all a trick? He (and Burger’s screenplay) leaves room to come down on either side—which, in part, he accomplishes by not showing any of his cards, so to speak. And whichever side we, as the audience, end up believing, we have to admit that there’s truth in illusion.
That’s all I’m going to say without spoiling the movie. DO NOT READ AHEAD IF YOU EVER PLAN TO SEE THE ILLUSIONIST. Trust me: even if you don’t usually mind spoilers, you will here. MAJOR SPOILERS TO FOLLOW.
SPOILER ALERT
SPOILER ALERT
Okay, so, if you’re reading this, you’ve already seen the movie. Hurrah for you. You know that the central plot point of Sophie’s death may be all an illusion. But is it? Most reviewers seem to think so, that we’re supposed to trust Uhl’s version of the story at the end. And, if they gave the movie a less than stellar review, it’s often because they wanted the end to be “darker.” They seem to have forgotten that the faked death and the Eisenheim-Sophie reunion are all in Uhl’s mind! It may be true, but it may just be an illusion he himself has conjured because it’s what he would prefer to believe. I love the ambiguity of the ending. It makes me happy in a very nerdy way.
It’s funny—when I first saw the movie, I noticed Eisenheim putting a vial of liquid in the suitcase that he gave to Sophie, and I thought at the time, “Either they’re going to drug Prince Leopold or they’re going to fake Sophie’s death.” Both turned out to be right (well, in one reading). But, in the drama of Eisenheim’s apparent grief and the increasing darkness of his shows, I sort of forgot about what I’d seen. That’s what a magician does: shows you the clues, but then makes you forget about them in the spectacle that follows. It wasn’t until Eisenheim arrived at the train station for the second time that I remembered the vial, and, just a couple of minutes before Uhl, considered the possibility that Sophie could be well and alive, hiding away somewhere. I tend to be the sort who suspends disbelief extremely well, and without intention, so it’s possible that I was a little slower than some viewers to follow where the clues were leading Uhl, but, still, I think the film’s timing was effective. And I love the bit at the end where Uhl takes off his hat, delighted that Eisenheim found a way to hoodwink them all (or at least that’s what Uhl chooses to believe at this point).
Oh, here’s a random interesting fact from the DVD commentary: the hall with all the antlers on the walls is actually in Archduke Franz Ferdinand’s castle. “Bad karma?” says Burger. You better believe it. Burger says that Franz Ferdinand’s own death mask is actually at the end of the hall, placed there after his death (and presumably sometime after World War I settled down a bit). Ooh, the irony.
10 comments March 5th, 2007