Magic Everywhere in This Ditch!

The Prestige (2006)

Rating ... A- (89)

Every great director has at least three movies ... or films. Christopher Nolan's first is called Memento. Nolan shows you something ordinary. A wronged man, a quest for revenge. He tells you this story. Perhaps he asks you to interpret, to analyze, to understand what seems normal. But of course, it probably isn't. His second film is called Batman Begins. The director takes an ordinary man and makes him do something extraordinary. Now you're seeing something different. A tale where vengeance is channeled. Where misfortune becomes the catalyst for betterment - personal, then societal. But you wouldn't clap yet. Because two crowd pleasers isn't necessarily a habit. It could still be an anomaly. That's why every hat trick has a third score ... the hardest part - the part we call "The Prestige."

I write lame introductions, but you get the picture. Nolan's tallied three in a row, and if there's anything disappointing about The Prestige it's that the film seems like a namesake swap - he's made Memento disappear... and then bring it back under a different title. Allow me to explain. If Memento was a film about self-delusion - that people need to fool themselves to add meaning to their lives, than The Prestige picks up the same conceit and runs with it. As consolation, at least the film runs far and fast.

This time we've got two obsessed protagonists. Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale play understudies with a knack for prestidigitation; they're seeking to infuse the art of magic with something bold and unprecedented. Magicians' current repetoires are shopworn. The natives are restless. What does it take to create a truly awe-inspiring trick? The duo's first encounter with greatness is chilling, to be frank. Angiers (Jackman) and Borden (Bale) observe an elderly Chinese illusionist capable of making reasonably-sized objects materialize out of nowhere. He feigns disability in the public eye to dissuade people from the secret - he possesses great strength, and is able to slip the objects from pinned between his legs and under his robe onto the pedestals where they "appear." The illusionist operates in two modes; he's either living the show or training for it. His parable is an early indicator of the remarkable sacrifice needed to uphold wonder and mystery in society.



Riddles and enigmas are always captivating, so what's the threat here? The answer is the same feature that distinguishes Angier and Borden from one another. They're both so entranced with magic it becomes a rivalry, but they've got differing motivations. Borden is concerned with perfecting the craft; he pierces the guise of the illusionist and the appearing objects trick from the get-go because he shares the same viewpoint. His version of the Transported Man is solved with the easiest answer but the method is sophisticated enough for audiences to doubt simplicity - the only prerequisite is a lifetime(s) of sacrifice. Borden is extreme, but plays by the rules of the game.

Angier dabbles with the same, but he's backed by Cutter (Michael Caine) and his numerous tools. Each new apparatus results in a slicker, smoother trick; the approach makes sense for Angier because his concern is primarily emotional. He understands the amazement successful magic has on an audience, and he thrives on producing such an effect. The secret to the trick is immaterial compared to the result. It's no surprise he ultimately turns to science to gain the biggest and baddest toy.

MF-ing Tesla could almost sum up that line of inquiry. And what trick does Angier purchase to enable his version of the Transported Man? Nolan loses a chunk of his fanbase with this letdown: there's no trick. With Tesla's device, he's actually physically able to teleport. Badass, right? Score one for science ... THE END.

Were you watching closely? What did he mean, anyways? Consider each man's ethos again, figuratively. Borden is low-tech but talented. His ability enables him to blur the truth - that guy didn't really just teleport - enough so audiences choose to believe something magical over what they know to be true. Now look at Angier; the truth is in plain sight. There's no secret. It doesn't take exceptional skill to accomplish the trick. That's just how it is. It only figures that Tesla's note implores Angier to destroy the machine rather than use it; here, science is an unforgiving way of understanding that nothing is special or magical. Tesla's invention reveals how little importance human life has because it too can be easily replicated. Angier's cloned selves fret over whether they're the "man in the box" or living the prestige; the tragedy of his last rendition of the Transported Man is that the distinction no longer matters. Whose version do you choose?