This is the great L'illusionniste, not the Neil Burger/Jessica Biel/Ed Norton version. While I thought the ill-timed The Prestige competitor was entertaining, it's not even in the same film-making universe. For those of you who are not familiar with Sylvain Chomet's work with The Triplets of Bellville, he showed his live action skill directing that bizarre segment of Paris Je T'Aime involving mimes and the Eiffel Tower.
The story is quite simple: a traveling magician finds himself in Scotland performing in a small town. A girl sees his magic and believes it is real. She follows him to Edinburgh all the while believing that the gifts, money, and food he provides for the both of them are fabricated out of thin air. The original story was written by Jacques Tati, a French mime, director, and actor from the mid 1900s. It is a love letter from him to one of his children, but it is unclear whether the story is written to his first child abandoned in infancy or to his other child with whom he never spent enough time. Either way, there is evident a sense of melancholy and guilt in the magician's care of the girl. He sneaks out to a night job to afford to buy her the coat, dress, and shoes she desires; he always produces her spending money with a magical flourish; and he never tells her to her face that she shouldn't believe everything she sees.
On one hand, you want to hate the girl – she latches on to the magician and seems so naive and even greedy at some points. On the other hand, the magician chose to keep up the illusion (ooooooh!) and never exposes her to the harshness of the world. It's not until he believes she has someone to care for her that he
SPOILER ALERT HERE
disappears and leaves a note that simply says "Magicians don't exist."
I first saw this film in January at a fairly crowded art theater. Young, old, artistic, and not were all there. When the film's last scene closed, and the credits began to roll, there wasn't a sound in the theater. Nobody spoke, nobody got up to rush out like they normally do. We all just sat there in silence, unsure of how to feel. I was sad, inspired, resentful, and had a lump in my throat. Few films have that impact on me and fewer make me run out to see the movie again. I think the biggest problem (only in that it leaves you a bit confused emotionally) is a lack of closure. Nothing really changes – we don't get to see how the girl reacts to the truth. The magician moves on with his life and career, seemingly untouched by the brief time with the girl. We want a happy ending, a kiss, a death, anything to leave us without an open end to wonder about on the way home.
I have not even begun to talk about the beauty of the film. Character design was excellent, from the Brit-pop band to the angry little bunny that makes me laugh every time. More than ever, it makes me long to visit Scotland, the homeland, so I can see Edinburgh firsthand. The artistry of the film is only outdone by the subtle sadness of the story told without any real dialog.
This film is instantly one of my favorites. See it in theaters, see it on DVD. See it.
The story is quite simple: a traveling magician finds himself in Scotland performing in a small town. A girl sees his magic and believes it is real. She follows him to Edinburgh all the while believing that the gifts, money, and food he provides for the both of them are fabricated out of thin air. The original story was written by Jacques Tati, a French mime, director, and actor from the mid 1900s. It is a love letter from him to one of his children, but it is unclear whether the story is written to his first child abandoned in infancy or to his other child with whom he never spent enough time. Either way, there is evident a sense of melancholy and guilt in the magician's care of the girl. He sneaks out to a night job to afford to buy her the coat, dress, and shoes she desires; he always produces her spending money with a magical flourish; and he never tells her to her face that she shouldn't believe everything she sees.
On one hand, you want to hate the girl – she latches on to the magician and seems so naive and even greedy at some points. On the other hand, the magician chose to keep up the illusion (ooooooh!) and never exposes her to the harshness of the world. It's not until he believes she has someone to care for her that he
SPOILER ALERT HERE
disappears and leaves a note that simply says "Magicians don't exist."
I first saw this film in January at a fairly crowded art theater. Young, old, artistic, and not were all there. When the film's last scene closed, and the credits began to roll, there wasn't a sound in the theater. Nobody spoke, nobody got up to rush out like they normally do. We all just sat there in silence, unsure of how to feel. I was sad, inspired, resentful, and had a lump in my throat. Few films have that impact on me and fewer make me run out to see the movie again. I think the biggest problem (only in that it leaves you a bit confused emotionally) is a lack of closure. Nothing really changes – we don't get to see how the girl reacts to the truth. The magician moves on with his life and career, seemingly untouched by the brief time with the girl. We want a happy ending, a kiss, a death, anything to leave us without an open end to wonder about on the way home.
I have not even begun to talk about the beauty of the film. Character design was excellent, from the Brit-pop band to the angry little bunny that makes me laugh every time. More than ever, it makes me long to visit Scotland, the homeland, so I can see Edinburgh firsthand. The artistry of the film is only outdone by the subtle sadness of the story told without any real dialog.
This film is instantly one of my favorites. See it in theaters, see it on DVD. See it.