An act of misdirection

Noel Vera

Christopher Nolan's "The Prestige"--an adaptation of the novel by
Christopher Priest--has a lovely premise at the heart of it all; not
so much the notion of two professionals locked in a life-and-death
rivalry (that's been done to death several times over), but the
secrets that lie at the heart of their respective trademark acts:
Alfred Borden (Christian Bale) with his "The Transported Man," and
Rupert Angier (Hugh Jackman) with his "The New Transported Man."
Like all of the best magic, the respective secrets are simple, and
it's actually possible to guess them beforehand (I knew the trick to
Angier's act the moment he spotted a pile of hats; I realized
Borden's when I saw one of the minor characters onscreen for the nth
time (and in fact someone blurts out Borden's secret--which is
promptly dismissed as unworkable)). The real trick and true secret
of a great magic act is how the trick is presented, in such a way
that you know, and are enchanted anyway.

The rest of the film isn't so bad. Borden and Angier are co-workers,
employed by a competent if old-fashioned magician named Milton
(Ricky Jay); when someone dies as a result of a possible slip-up in
preparation, a rivalry sprouts between the two, in all aspects of
life: career, family, even the love of a woman (Olivia Wenscombe,
played by Scarlet Johanssen as yet another object of desire (she's
so many she could open her own wax museum)). They show up in each
other's acts, sometimes prying into inner workings and snooping
around for secrets, sometimes assuming a disguise and sabotaging the
act while in progress. This part of the film is given the majority
of screen time, but in terms of what seems to interest Nolan they're
really given very little weight; at one point a woman hangs herself
and the husband concerned can barely bother to work up the energy to
regret what happened (he seems more bothered by the obligation to be
bothered). You tend to suspect that the wives, lovers, children and
various career highs and lows are really a piece of misdirection--
Nolan and Priest pointing our attentions elsewhere, until they're
ready to present the story's true secrets.

As the pair of prestidigitators, Jackman and Bale make a handsome
couple; Jackman presents an aristocratic profile to his pubic, the
better for Bale to look up and resent him; for Bale's part, the
moment where Bale literally ties up Jackman's act is the moment
where he taps into his "American Psycho"/"Batman Begins" badass
persona and comes across as a gleefully, even cruelly, unrepentant
prankster. When he walks down the aisle and out the theater doors,
all eyes are on him; not because he stopped the show, but because he
takes such evident pleasure in doing it. Jackman is left with being
handsome and charming, which he does well enough (one would wish to
see more of the psychological damage that his act must undoubtedly
be costing him (it's a variation on an idea proposed in Algis
Budrys' classic novella "Rogue Moon"--Priest, of course, is also a
science-fiction writer)). Michael Caine as Angier's assistant Cutter
is a solid, dependable presence (and a reminder that if he were
younger he could've played both lead roles to the hilt, and with far
less effort); David Bowie is even better--with his steely gray eyes,
delicate Russian accent, and inexplicably charismatic presence, he
depicts a genuine wizard, Nikolai Tesla, hidden away and working
wonders in his mysterious laboratory in Colorado Springs.

But if Bowie is playing a wizard (Tesla has been alternately
described as either "insane" or "the inventor of the 20th century"
or both; you make your choice), there is only one true practitioner
of classical magic in the cast, the great Ricky Jay. Jay even when
intentionally playing a timid-hearted and clumsy illusionist, even
when Nolan's camera relegates him to the background, comes across
strong: his eyes flash at the camera, and he can't resist delivering
the smooth, economical motions and flourishes of a true
practitioner. Jay, of course, acted as technical consultant not only
for this film but for its rival production (Neil Burger's lesser-
known but more highly praised "The Illusionist"); his in-depth
knowledge not only of magic but its history and more bizarre
practitioners (he would know of Ching Ling Foo, the magician that
inspired Priest to write the novel) undoubtedly proved invaluable to
the filmmakers. Actually, if they had tossed out Bale and Jackman
and just had Jay play both lead roles (not impossible, knowing Jay--
and he wouldn't resort to digital cheating, either), I couldn't be
happier. The man is a treasure trove of dark and malevolent
performances just waiting to be unleashed, and it's just incredible
no one's had the intelligence to realize this, even today.

Nolan's career has mostly consisted of gimmickry
("Following;" "Memento," "Insomnia") presented in a flashy manner;
the setting and subject of Priest's novel (magic at the turn of the
century) should be a perfect marriage of maker and matter; the
results, however, are rather disappointing. A magic trick needs the
simplest of setups to present--you're showing something fantastic,
so you must work hard not to emphasize the fantastic nature of the
act, but its realistic background, the very solidity and familiarity
of stage and set. Nolan, if anything, seems oblivious to this; like
the Angier character he tarts up the important setpieces with
dramatic lighting, loud orchestral music, fancy camera moves and
(ugliest of all) plenty of digitally created electrical effects (to
be fair, he does show us Borden's first presentation of "The
Transported Man" in a relatively unfussy manner--but cuts away at
the crucial moment). I would love to have seen Nolan tell the story
in a manner closer to Priest's novel: as a pair of diary narratives
often repeating key scenes but with differing points of views (in
which case he'd have to repeat camera setups for entire sequences--
but that's part of the fascination). I'd also love to see him do the
film in a more theatrical manner, using the space of the theater
stage the way, say, a real filmmaker uses it, as a confinement and
challenge that shapes his camera moves and angles accordingly (think
of Robert Altman ("Come to the 5 and Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean")
or Jonathan Demme with their various stage-to-film adaptations). You
might say Nolan's directing here is the biggest piece of
misdirection of all; he's directed much of the magic out of a
promisingly ingenious new film.

(First published in Businessworld 10/27/06)

(Comments? Email me at noelbotevera@...)